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Ahh, right.
“Yeah, I can see how a dead body in your truck would be a bad look.”
“Right. So let’s avoid that. But yes, it does have heated seats.” He opened the passenger door.
Wow. She’d never had someone open a vehicle door for her.
Don’t get used to it.
“Are you sure I can’t help with my bags? I should help. You’ve got to be freezing.”
Maybe he needed a hug.
Urgh, of course he doesn’t need a hug. And you barely know this man.
Obviously, the cold weather was affecting her brain. She glanced around, realizing that the sky had become very gray and dark. A lump of fear grew in her stomach.
Just breathe through it.
Everything will be all right.
“That’s not happening, Sugar Pie,” he told her. “In you get.”
To her shock, he lifted her into the truck.
And Lord . . . the heated seats were everything she’d ever dreamed of. And more.
She moaned as she sank further into the seat. That ache in her lower back that had developed after too many days of driving was easing and she could feel her eyelids drooping.
“You really like the heated seats, don’t you?” he asked with amusement.
“Oh. Sorry.” She straightened. Had she just moaned over a heated seat?
Embarrassing.
“Here you go. Take this.” She pulled off his jacket, then practically flung it in his face, her hand narrowly missed connecting with his nose.
He shied back.
“Oh my God!” What was wrong with her? “I’m so sorry. Did I hit you?”
“I’m fine. Don’t panic,” he soothed. “I’ll be back in a minute. Anything else you want besides your bags?”
“Um. No. Oh, the water bottle in the front seat, please.”
“Nice manners. You stay right here, understand me?”
She nodded.
“Words,” he said firmly.
Holy. Crap.
“Yes,” she managed to get out.
“That’s a good girl.” He winked.
Lord. No.
