“Get in the truck.” I point to the door after she stumbles backward, realizing her freedom. I hand the steering wheel to the cashier while pinning her with a firm look. “Don’t touch anything. Don’t step in anything. Straight to the truck. Can you handle that, Princess?”

Her hands ghost over her hair, surveying any possible damage. She nods. I think she’s actually shaking a bit. Unexpected tussles with steering wheels will do that to you.

She inspects her hair all the way to the truck as the cashier scans my bottles of water.

“Just a sec …” I sift through a cubby of T-shirts, looking for my size. “This too.”

A minute later, I’m out the door, shrugging off one shirt and pulling on my new one. Avery slaps the visor mirror shut when I open the door. Of course she was messing with her hair.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She eyes my new shirt.

“If I have to explain it, then it’s clear why you’ve had relationship issues.”

Karma is Like 69

You Get What You Give

“I’m not a fan of Karma at the moment.”

I start the truck. “And 69?” Rolling my lips together, I hide my grin.

“It’s …” She shrugs, drumming her fingers on her legs, lips twisted. “Efficient.”

Chuckling, I pull out of the parking lot. Most of the time I want to wrap my hands around her neck and shake, but there have been moments, like now, that I find myself intrigued, mildly entertained by her remarks.

“And if you ask me if I’m efficient, I will jump out of the truck. I don’t like talking about that stuff.”

“Are you efficient?”

She giggles, shaking her head while giving her focus to the window. It’s a surprisingly pleasant sound. “Sorry. I’m still mad at you. We’re not having this conversation.”

“No conversation works for me.” I turn up the radio.

She grabs a container that Addy sent with her. I give her a quick sidelong glance.

“I’m not sharing. You didn’t share your berries with me yesterday.”

I grin, returning my focus to the road.

“God …” She hums. “This is the best chocolate zucchini bread I’ve ever had.”

“It is.”

Avery licks her fingers. “No Pilates. No calorie counting. I’m going to pay for this.”

“How so?”

“Hello? Hips, ass, abs. All the places excess food likes to settle on my body.”

At the stoplight, I give her the once-over. “Nothing seems to be settling on your hips, ass, and abs.”

“Yet,” she mumbles over a mouthful of bread.

“Happy, healthy, helpful.”

Wrapping up the rest of the bread, she shoots me a questioning glance. “I’m not following.”

“Instead of hips, ass, and abs, you should focus on happy, healthy, and helpful. Are you happy? Do you have your health? At the end of every day, can you say that you helped someone?”

“Helped someone?”