“That’s the kindest offer you’ve ever made me.”

“Probably.”

Together we peel and pit until our fingers are stained green. I’m about to suggest a break when something cool and slimy smushes against my face.

“Did you just.” I whirl around to see a smirk on Jasmine’s face and a mashed avocado slice in her hand. “Oh, no you did not.” I grab an avocado half and leap in her direction, but she’s half a step too fast and we end up in a running battle.

“Gotta be way faster than that, Tinkerbell!” she crows, and in the second she stops to gloat, I wrap an arm around her waist and mash the avocado into her head.

“My hair!” she shrieks, even though we both need to shower before the party.

She rolls out of my grasp as I gleefully hold up my green hands and say, “Avocado oil is healthy for it! You’re welcome, Princess!”

“I’ll show you a princess.” She comes charging toward me and tackles me to the floor, each of us trying to smear the other’s face with goop.

“This is not what I thought you meant when you told me I could sneak an avocado,” I growl.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” She sits up and holds her hands in the air, but she’s still pinning me down, her knees holding tight to my waist. Even covered in green gunk, her cutoff tee a stained and sweaty mess, she manages to look sexy as hell. “Go ahead.”

“Don’t mind if I do.” I take one of those hands and bring it to my lips, licking the traces of avocado from her palm. She laughs, but her giggles taper off as I suck one finger at a time into my mouth.

By the time I’m done tasting each one, the look in Jasmine’s golden eyes could melt the corn off its cobs. I’m about to make a move when Declan’s voice rings through the kitchen. “Girls? Did you do the guacamole?”

Jasmine rolls off me quick as lightning and I jump up, just as Declan walks into the kitchen. Even though we haven’t been caught flirting, we’ve sure as hell been caught making a mess of his pristine kitchen. I watch as he takes in the sight, both of us covered in avocado that should be mashed into his carefully chosen stone bowls, and his mouth quirks into a grin.

“So, not done yet, I see.”

“Uh, no, sir.”

Jasmine snorts. I have not called Declan “sir” once the entire summer. In fact, I have carefully avoided referring to him as anything at all, except to thank him for having me. And when I did call him Mr. Killary, he immediately told me to call him Declan.

I did not.

“There’s still time,” he says with a wink, and he walks out.