“I can walk four blocks alone, Nixon,” I protest as he opens the door of West End and waits for me to walk through. “Just because you can doesn’t mean you should,” he argues, and I resist the eye roll that’s coming. “I don’t remember you being this stubborn, Mac.” “Yeah well, I don’t remember you being this bossy, Nix.” A weird little zing of electricity passes between us as I brush by him and almost fall flat on my face. I catch myself as I trip over the metal door frame. Stupid heels. They make my legs and ass look incredible in this dress, but they pinch the shit out of my toes. Guess I’m
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