I nodded.
“Sissy? That’s really someone’s name? It has to be short for something.”
“She’s a Southern woman. It’s a common nickname.”
“What’s her real name?”
“Cecilia.”
“Go on,” she said, waving her hand at me before she propped her chin against her palm, elbow on the bar. “Tell me all about Sissy and Han Solo. I’m intrigued.”
I washed down her sarcasm with the Jack and Coke, staring her down. “She stormed into the bar, screaming at me in front of everyone about how I was a shitty boyfriend and how I better get used to my hand because I’d never sleep with her again.”
“Sounds like a lovely human.”
I shrugged, remembering a time when Sissy wasn’t off her rocker. “She had her moments.”
Mak batted her eyelashes. “I’m sure you were with her for her kind heart and not her what I’d assume were big breasts.”
My hand moved to my neck, rubbing the spot she’d made tense up. The girl was good at getting under people’s skin. She reminded me of an interrogator, always trying to throw the other person off, which she was doing with flying colors. “I’m more of an ass man, Mak,” I teased, winking at her.
She turned her head for a moment, but not before I saw the red flush creep across her cheeks. “Why were you a shitty boyfriend?”
She might be busting my balls, throwing me tons of attitude, pretending she didn’t like me even as a friend, but she was into me. Nothing that came out of her mouth going forward would change my mind.
I kneaded deeper into the muscles near my shoulder, thinking about Sissy and her antics, especially at the end. “She said I was supposed to be at home with her, watching theGilmore Girls.” I gagged, shaking off the memories of all the girlie shit.
“I loved that show.”
I raised an eyebrow, gawking at this chick who, while feminine, wasn’t girlie.
“Just fucking with you.” She touched my arm, blushing again when my gaze dipped to where our bodies were connected. She snatched her hand back so quickly, as if the contact was enough to burn her flesh. “My mom loved that show,” she snorted, acting as if whatever moment we’d just had never happened. “Which, if you knew my mother, you’d know how absurd that statement really is.”
“Your mom a lot like you, then?”
She tilted her head, all playfulness gone. “Like me?”
I lifted my chin, smirking. “You’re a tough chick, Mak.”
“First—” she put up a finger so close to my face, I couldn’t focus on the single digit “—I’m not a chick. I’m a woman.”
“Yep,” I said, my gaze dipping, taking her all in. “Noticed that as soon as I saw you.”
Her finger moved to my chin, forcing my eyes upward. “Second, I have to be tough. There’s no room for weakness in today’s world and definitely not in the military—especially if you’re a woman.”
“You can’t be hard all the time, darlin’.”
“Darlin’?” she snorted. “You Southern boys and your charm.”
“Would you rather I call you dumplin’?”
“Mak. Just Mak.”
“Sure, darlin’,” I said, aggravating her more. But I liked her this way. I loved the fire in her eyes and the spark I saw inside her.
“Mak,” her douchebag friend from earlier said as he walked back over to us with the bimbo from before still attached to him. “This asshole bothering you?” He pitched his thumb in my direction, and it took everything in me not to snap the damn thing in half.
She swiveled around on her chair, staring him down with a scowl. “The only asshole bothering me, Blondie, is you and Babbette here.”
