He pooped. I suppose it’s better now than passing his lethal gas in the truck. I grab a poop bag from the backseat of the truck.

As Swarley sniffs his way back to me, I cringe. He has a piece of poop hanging from his backside, suspended by a long hair—probably one of mine—that he ate. This dog hates me on every level, conscious and subconscious.

“Hi.” I smile at Carley.

“Hi, darling.” She gives Jake an inflated grin. “Who’s your lady friend?”

Jake keeps his focus on bagging his produce. “Friend might be an overstatement. We just met. Hitchhiker would be more accurate. Carley, Avery. Avery, Carley.”

Carley laughs. “You don’t pick up hitchhikers.” She holds out her hand to me. “So this stunning young lady must be someone really special.”

“No. She’s not,” he deadpans.

I narrow my eyes at him while shaking Carley’s hand. “Nice to meet you, Carley. Jake offered me a ride to L.A. My car died. I can’t fly because I have my sister’s dog with me, and my dad’s heart wouldn’t handle me making the trip alone. And do you by chance have a napkin or paper towel?”

“Oh. I have a rag.” She grabs a cloth towel from a crate beneath her table.

“No. I need something disposable.”

“Time to go, Avery,” Jake says my name with less contempt. Must be the Carley effect.

“I have a tissue in my purse. Will that work?”

I glance back at Swarley and his dangling turd. “Several tissues might work. Thank you.”

Carley digs into her purse and pulls out a wadded-up tissue.

Just one.

One, one-ply tissue.

Possibly already been used.

Biting my lips together, I wrinkle my nose. “Is that all you’ve got?”

“I’m afraid so, darling.” She leans closer and whispers, “Did you get your period? I have a sanitary napkin in the glove compartment of my truck.”

I look back at the dangling turd one more time. It’s the size of a large walnut. “Would you mind if I took what’s in your glove compartment?”

“Not at all.” She goes to her truck, and Jake gets in his driver’s seat.

“Avery, let’s go! Get your dog.”

“Just a minute!”

Carley hands me the wadded sanitary napkin. Thankfully, it’s simply old, not used. “Thank you. I really appreciate it.”

“No problem. It was nice to meet you. You’ve got yourself quite the guy there.”

I find my fake grin. “He’s something all right. Bye, Carley.” I press the pad together in my good hand like a puppet. It slips out, falling to the ground, so I pick it up and remove the paper strip. The adhesive isn’t the best, but it should keep it from slipping from my hand while I nab the dangling turd.

“Avery? In the truck or you’re getting left behind.”