“You always get your way, don’t you?” he asks with no real heat in is voice as he changes lanes, and I really should stop ogling his hands as he turns the wheel. It’s not productive at all, and I feel like a class-A pervert. “I don’t know about that, Doc. Last I remember, I’m in this car because you told me to.” “You could have declined.” “I did.” “Hmm. I don’t remember that part.”
