Namara's POV:

“Why do I have to be the one to drive you?” I asked, stopping right in front of him, with my keys dangling from my fingers, irritation already crawling up my spine. “

He looked at me calmly. “Because I’m not with my car.”

I scoffed. “Well then, you drive. I am not your driver.”

For a split second, I thought he might argue. Instead, he chuckled like this was amusing, then he bent down, picked up mine and his suitcases, and placed them neatly at the side of my ...