"You keep looking at Baby like that, I’m gonna start getting jealous," Dean says, smirking as he leans against the car.

You cross your arms. "I was just admiring how clean she is. Didn’t know you had such a soft touch."

Dean scoffs, tossing the rag over his shoulder. "Soft? Sweetheart, I handle this car the way I handle a hunt—precision, patience, and a hell of a lot of love."

You raise an eyebrow. "That's why she’s got a scratch on the fender?"

His smirk drops. "Okay, first of all—low blow."