I nod. “It doesn’t have to be grand, like donating a kidney. Something as simple as opening the door for a stranger. Did you make someone feel good? Did you put the needs of another above your own? Did you make a difference in the world?”

After a few seconds, she releases a long exhale, turning her attention back to her window. “Are you happy, healthy, and helpful?”

“Well …” I shoot her a quick look. “There’s a stranger in my passenger seat and her dog in my backseat. I’d say I’m quite helpful. I exercise every day and eat real food. Yes, I’d say I’m healthy.”

I pull into an angled parking spot in the downtown.

“And happy? Are you happy?”

Turning off the ignition, I shrug. “I’m content.”

“Cont—”

Shutting the door before she can respond, I glance up at the partly cloudy sky.

Happy? Two out of three ain’t bad.

My phone vibrates.

Deedy: Hey! Just wanted to thank you again for taking Avery and Swarley back to L.A. : ) You are a kind human, Jake Matthews. Please never forget that.

“Deedy …” I mumble, walking around to the other side of my truck. “I’m enduring this for you—only you.” Opening Avery’s door, I hide my gritted teeth behind my tightlipped smile. “S’up, Princess?”

She rubs her lips together, focusing on her reflection in the visor mirror while capping her lip gloss. “Freshening up.”

“For what?”

“For getting out. By the way, where are we going?” She uncaps a tube of mascara.

No. No, no, no …

I grab it from her hands, shove it back in her makeup bag, and toss the makeup bag into her fancy purse. “We’re grabbing lunch before setting up camp. Nobody here cares about the color of your lips or the length of your lashes. Get out.”

Flipping the visor up, she turns toward me, still rubbing her lips together. Her gaze scans up and down my body, pausing an extra few seconds on my arms. “Funny … you seem to feel the need to mark your skin—to express yourself outwardly to the world. Yet I’m a princess for wanting to fix my makeup?”

I grin—a real one. Why? Hell if I know. Lifting my arm between us, I twist it to show her some of my self-expression.

“Why do you wear so much makeup?” I glance up at her as she inspects my arm.

“My lips are pale,” Avery murmurs, tracing her finger over the script on my arm for a brief second before her hand balls into a fist as if I burned it. Vulnerable, blue eyes flit up to meet my gaze.

If she weren’t such a pill, I would say beneath her ten thousand layers of vanity, Avery just might be pretty fucking beautiful.

If …

“My lashes are too thin. My skin tone is uneven.”