“Shit. That’s . . . creepy.” I blink up at Rhett, who’s opposite hand cups my elbow now, turning me in toward him. “Maybe we should give him something to creep on. Do you think he’s in that car?” The rugged man in front of me smirks in a way that has my entire body humming. “Rather than kissing your magazine pages, you can try out the real thing.” “You’re an idiot,” I mumble, but I also don’t move away.
