“He’s great. So perfect for Sloane. Don’t be an asshat.” I grin, my eyes locked to her full lips. “Whatever you say, ma’am.” She snorts. “‘Ma’am.’ Please don’t.” “Miss?” Her nose scrunches. “Madam?” I offer. Lark shakes her head. “Yeah, that’s not much better than ‘ma’am,’ I guess. Wait, I’ve got it. Duchess.” “Ooh I like it. Somehow it works with the feather thing. Regal, yet saucy.”
