“A handful of spinach, a banana, two dates—pitted—coconut water, and a scoop of Cordyceps powder.”

“Cordyceps?”

He shrugs off his tank top. I remind my eyes to keep my gaze above his neck.

“Mushrooms.”

“Reeeally …” I fail at keeping cool. Jake likes mushrooms in his smoothie. Well, isn’t that just fate?

“Yes, really. You should try them.” He slips into the tent. “Do you know where everything’s at?”

“Yes, Jake. I’ve watched you flaunt your morning routine. It’s predictable.”

When he comes back out, I flash him a smile.

“You’re in a good mood today. You forgive me for your shirt?”

Not ever, you monkey-spanking asshole.

“Mmm …” I nod, biting my tongue.

“I’ll be back in ten.”

I continue nodding as he disappears around the trees toward the shower facilities.

In the back of the truck, I riffle through the cooler and plastic containers to get his smoothie shit out. He has three bananas left. I scarf down two. If a guy goes down on a girl, all food becomes communal. Cringing, I try to forget about what his tongue did to me because that same tongue probably did that same thing to Deedy.

Retch …

I contemplate how much of my special mushroom to add to his smoothie, not wanting it to impart a noticeable taste. Half-sies feels about right. It’s not like I want him dead—okay, maybe I do, but …

Dear Heavenly Father,

Please don’t let this kill Jake. Seriously, I mean it. My gut says it won’t, but I need your magical powers as a backup in case things go wrong. I would never survive prison, but I’m sure you know this. Oh, and of course the guilt and remorse. I’m not suggesting prison is my number one concern, clearly human life trumps that—even Jake’s. Once things between us feel a bit more even, I promise to act my age, and try to do what Jesus would do a little more often. Please forgive my moments of sin. I’m only human.

“The water is extra cold today.”

My heart springs into my throat as I turn toward Jake’s voice.

Be cool, Avery!

“Big surprise.” I hand him his smoothie, once again reminding my gaze to ignore his bared chest, dripping hair, and those perfect flip-flop clad feed.

“Where’s yours?”

“My what?” My eyes narrow.

“Your smoothie?”

“Already drank it.”

“What did you think?”

“It was good. Hope you don’t mind, but I used two bananas in mine.”

He takes a sip of his smoothie. “Mmm … you did good.”

I hold my breath, waiting for him to keel over.

“Go shower. Let’s hit the road as soon as possible.”