She doesn’t look at me.

I get in.

Nothing.

I don’t sense she’s mad at me like she was when I left her to get her haircut. This Avery is just … sad.

Insecure?

I don’t know.

She angles her body away from me, one foot covering the other with her toes curled and both of her hands fisted and locked between her legs.

“Lunch. My treat. Any place you want to go.”

“I’m not hungry,” Avery murmurs barely above a whisper.

She grabs her purse and digs through it. After a few seconds, she closes her eyes and deflates.

Her phone.

I think she just remembered she doesn’t have one. Her hand slides along her hair, stopping at the end by her chin. She swallows hard, returning her attention to her window again and sliding her hands back between her legs like she’s hiding them.

I turn up the radio, searching for a station she might like, then I just drive.

Welcome to Texas

Drive Friendly – The Texas Way

We pull into a campground about fifteen miles out of Amarillo. Avery doesn’t sigh. She usually sighs when we pull into the campgrounds.

“Come, Swarley,” she says, sliding out of the truck.

I don’t recognize her voice. It’s timid and lacking any sort of confidence, sass, or that signature princess snoot. Again, I should be jumping for joy that she’s not being her annoying self, that she’s not trying to poison me again.

But … I’m not.

After erecting the tent and starting a fire, I make us both dinner, a can of veggie chili.

“I’m sharing my dinner tonight.”

Still … she doesn’t look at me. Her attention remains on the fire. Her posture in the camping chair mimics how she sat in the truck—her whole body folded in on itself. I set the bowl of chili beside her and sit across the fire from her, eating my dinner and trying to figure her out. But more than that … I’m trying to figure out why I feel the need to understand her.

I know why she drives me insane.

I know why I want to see her knocked down a few pegs.

I know why my dick betrays me around her.

But … hell if I know why I feel this need to fix her.

When the fire dies to small glowing embers, I whistle for Swarley to get in the tent. Avery doesn’t move. I set the bucket of water next to her chair instead of extinguishing the rest of the fire. She doesn’t resist me when I lift her from the chair and sit my butt down with her cradled on my lap, her cheek resting on my chest.