“Lice?” Her head snaps up.

“I don’t want them. You’ve already been in close proximity to me. I’m going to do a rinse too just to make sure I don’t get them too.”

Her jaw falls open. “I do not have lice, you presumptuous, arrogant, insensitive jerk!”

“No?” I cock my head. “Bad psoriasis?”

“No! Oh my god! Why do you hate me so much?”

I start to list the reasons but stop myself before actual words escape.

“Can you show a little compassion instead of speaking every cruel word that comes to mind? Not all truths in life need a voice.”

I frown. “I’m not trying to be mean. I’m simply trying to prevent the spread of lice.”

Her light blue eyes meet my gaze, cheeks streaked in dark eye makeup, questionably infectious hair matted to her face. “I don’t have lice. My issue isn’t contagious, and if you have a single sympathetic bone in your body, then you’ll not say anything else about my hair.”

After inspecting her as if I don’t trust her, because I don’t, I set the bottle down and pick her back up.

“What are you doing?”

“Taking you down to the creek to get the mud and grass washed off.”

For once, she says nothing until I ease her onto a large rock sticking out of the edge of the water. “Thank you,” she whispers.

I nod once.

Avery slips off her single sandal, stares at it, up at me, and back at her sandal. “What’s happened to my life?” she mumbles, pitching the sandal down the creek.

It’s littering, but I don’t mention it. This moment has a more significant purpose. Princess Avery Montgomery has been knocked down a few pegs because she caught a ride with a guy who doesn’t bow to anyone, instead of the never-before-seen “gentleman” with expert lassoing skills.

“It’s not your life. It’s a moment in time. The only thing defining you at this moment is your decision to throw in the towel or come back fighting. You have an injured hand. It will heal. Some guy apparently did wrong by you, he was clearly not worth your time.”

“You sound a bit hardened to life.” She eases her body down into the water that only reaches a few inches above her knees. “Jeez, it’s cold.”

As she washes her legs, I splash water onto her back.

“Cold!” She straightens like a board.

I grin. “It’s not that cold.”

Avery smiles for a split second before her eyes narrow into revenge. “It’s not that cold,” she mimics while plowing her hands through the water to splash me. “It’s cold, isn’t it, Mr. Tough Guy?”

“Don’t start something you can’t handle, Princess.”

“Enough with the princess!” She whips more water in my direction.

“Last warning.” I take a step toward her.