“Couldn’t agree more.” Bastian helps me out of the trunk. He follows me around to my side of the car and holds the door open for me.
I wouldn’t exactly call him a gentleman, but this is one act of chivalry he never fails to perform. Every time he does, a strange thrill shoots through me. Feminism is nice and all, but a big, strong, handsome man holding open your car door just does things to a lady’s insides.
When I’m settled, he closes the trunk, then comes around to get behind the wheel. “Drop you off back home?” he asks.
“Yeah. Gotta shower off the musk.”
“Whose musk?” he asks in mock offense, hand plastered to his chest. “Mine?!”
“No, the other caveman who dragged me out of my cozy bed and into the freezing cold.”
“Hm,” he grunts. “I’ll keep an eye out for him then. Sounds like he
