When they reached the car, Dylan opened the door and helped her inside, her movements sluggish and disoriented. Once she was seated, he walked around to the driver's side and slid in. Igniting the engine, he glanced at her and saw her leaning on the seat with her eyes closed.
"Seatbelt."
Ava grabbed at the strap, but it refused to budge. She tugged again. "Ugh," she huffed, struggling against it.
Dylan leaned over, his arm brushing against her shoulder as he reached for the seatbelt. The proximity sent a jolt through her, her body going rigid. His familiar scent—a blend of cedarwood and something uniquely him—wrapped around her, igniting a spark she couldn't ignore. Her fingers instinctively clenched at the fabric of her skirt.