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He smirks, perhaps thinking of other stiff things. Or maybe that’s just my mind jumping ahead.
He looks around the deck, craning his neck at the stars, then the rolling hills, then the house and finally me. He gestures to my glass. “Now tell me. Why are you drinking regret?”
I grab the nearby bottle, waggling it. “Want to try some? It’s a good vintage. A crisp white regret.”
“Sounds perfect post-game.”
He reaches for his mug and hands it to me. I pour some Chablis, then give it back to him. After a drink, he whistles in approval but then asks again, his expression serious now. “What’s going on? Why is this a hot tub of contemplation?”
“It’s nothing. I don’t want to ruin the vibe,” I say, dismissing my earlier comment.
He wiggles his fingers. “Come on. You can’t ruin the vibe.”
“Oh, I bet I could.”
He studies me, arches a brow. “Let’s see. You’re contemplating life choices in a hot tub. Is it the ex-hole again?”
I grimace, and that’s answer enough.
He growls. “You didn’t get back together with him, did you?”
I scoff. If I’d been drinking, I would’ve done a spit-take all over the hot tub. “Do I look stupid?”
“No, you look smart, and smart is hot.”
I freeze for a second, letting that compliment sink in. I haven’t gotten one like that before, but I like it. “He wrote an article for his website about signs a relationship is in trouble, and he was clearly referencing me without naming me.”
Hollis growls, low and menacing. “That guy is the worst.”
I’m not usually a blurter. I’m more measured. I keep things inside. But that article unlocked something in me. Something fiery, something angry, so I let it all out. “He said we had no chemistry,” I continue, surprised at how easily the details, embarrassing and insulting as they are, spill out. “His top ten list of red flags was about me. A lack of chemistry. A lack of desire. Claiming I didn’t know how to kiss.”
Hollis blinks, then blinks again, like I can’t actually have said that. “Okay, so this guy steals your cat. And for the record, if someone stole my cat, I would have them arrested for a felony. Now, he’s talked shit about your fucking sex life? Can I say it?”
“Say what?” I ask, curiously.
“I would like to murder him.”
It’s spoken nonchalantly, like the only answer for an ex-hole of this magnitude is offing him—and I like it.
“But then how would you take care of the cat in prison?” I ask.
He hums thoughtfully. “You’re right. I will refrain from murder for now.”
“Then I won’t go into details on how he basically said he never liked kissing me,” I say. Maybe I am ruining a flirty vibe. But the fact is I’m still ridiculously hurt from reading Steven’s veiled but cruel words.
Hollis’s eyes are fiery with rage. Maybe he would like to unalive Steven. “He really wrote that?”
“He did. I don’t know why I ever trusted him, and I don’t know why I didn’t see this nasty side in him.” Though maybe I do. Steven was all in from the start. For someone who’s always sure she’s being left, Steven’s commitment was a drug. I knock back the rest of my wine, then sigh in admission. “But maybe he’s right. I’m not sure I loved kissing him either. I don’t know that I felt the chemistry either.”
Hollis’s smile is pleased and a little smug. “There you go,” he says, slapping the water, almost triumphantly. “It wasn’t you. It was him.”
“I appreciate that. But doesn’t it take two to kiss?”
“It does. But that’s only part of what makes a kiss good,” Hollis says, and his tone is rougher, a little husky.
Just like that, we’re not talking about my ex anymore. We’re talking about kissing. “Well, what’s the other part?”
The water bubbles around us. My playlist shifts to a romantic tune, a little sultry, a touch sexy, and I’m not entirely sure how this tune is on this playlist, but the pulsing sounds and the soft groove seem to melt into the night. “Communication. Understanding what a woman wants. Listening to her. Reading her body language. Giving her what she needs.”
