Before Heath could insist he was fine back there—he absolutely was not with legs that long—I clambered in and got comfy. “I suppose you do fit a little easier,” Heath admitted, pushing the passenger seat back into position and sliding in. “I forget how little you are sometimes.” “He means because you’ve got big-dog energy,” Royce informed me with a smirk in the rearview mirror. “You act like you’re six foot sometimes. Not a little yappy dog, like Jade.”
