I unscrew the lid and pour. “Shit!”

Jake clears his throat. “It’s green juice.”

“I see that. Where’s my water?”

“You didn’t bring any.” He pops a blackberry into his mouth.

I hop on one foot, shaking the juice from my dirty foot. “I need water.”

Jake pops another berry.

“Ugh! You are the worst.” I glare at Jake.

Swarley whines.

“Both of you!” I slam the door and hobble to the produce stand. “Carley, do you have some—” My breath catches as I’m swooped up into Jake’s arms.

“You are a pain in the ass, woman,” he mumbles, carrying me to the truck. He opens the back and plops me down on the tailgate.

“I was going to ask Carley for some water.”

Jake opens a plastic tub. “And I’m sure she would give you her drinking water for the day so you can clean your foot because she’s nice like that. But it’s going to be hot, so only an inconsiderate person would accept such an offer.”

“I would not have taken her only water. I just thought …” My jaw drops as he pulls out a gallon jug of water and a roll of paper towels.

“Bastard! You watched me chase a turd with a sanitary napkin. You let me pour juice on my $300 Italian leather sandals while a gallon of water and paper towels were in the back of your truck?”

He unfastens my sandal and washes my foot and sandal without saying another word, without so much as a glance up at me.

“Italian leather doesn’t like water.” I frown at my shoe as he dries my foot and shoves it back into my sandal.

Jake glances up at me with a hard look. “Don’t even get me started on things I don’t like.” With zero effort, he lifts me off the tailgate. “Let’s go.”

“Thanks for offering me some berries.” As the skyline of Chicago comes into view, I break the silence again.

Jake turns down the country music. “What?”

“I said, thanks for offering me some berries.” I stare at the four empty pint containers between the seats.

“If you wanted berries, why didn’t you get some?”

“Because I had to deal with Swarley and the poop fiasco.”

“Then why didn’t you ask if you could have some of mine?” He shoots me a wide-eyed look with a tight smile.

“Because that’s not how it works. You don’t ask for something that’s not yours. You wait until someone with manners offers it to you.”

“You were going to ask Carley for her water.”

“Okay, okay … enough about the water. You act like I was going to take food from a starving child.”

“What are you doing?”

“Snapchat.”

“You just took a picture of me?”

“Yup.” I caption the photo of Jake.

“Beware! Satan has good hair, but he’s still a snake.”