“You know, you can’t tell me what—” Ambrose lifts me over his shoulder like I weigh no more than a sack of flour and I shriek. He swings the door to the back seat open, chucking me inside. Reaching for the seat belt, he attempts to buckle me in, but I swat at his hand and he makes a sound of frustration. “Brat.” “Caveman!” I snarl.
