“You gonna tell him to keep his hands off you, or should I?” My heart skitters to a stop. “What?” Garrett’s grip on the steering wheel tightens, his eyes on the road. “I don’t like the way he touches you.” “Garrett … Simon’s my dance partner. He has to touch me.” “You know as well as I do he wants to be more than that. I can handle the way he touches you when you’re dancing, but I won’t tolerate him putting his hands all over you the rest of the time, like he thinks you’re his.” “Okay, back up.” I swivel in my seat, hands braced in front of me. “What are you talking about? I’m not Simon’s. I’m
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