AllFreeNovel
Share Us
But I can’t practice the avoidance pose forever. I need to meet with the Sea Dogs strength and conditioning coach before my first class at the festival.
On that to-do list note, I finish my practice, coming out of the pose, sitting cross-legged, then taking several calming breaths before I rise. Donut rises too. I pat my thigh, a cue for her to follow me, and head inside to face the first man who’s learned my dirty little secret even though I have no clue what to say to him.
Good morning! I have intimacy issues. How are you?
Inside the kitchen, Hollis is shirtless and meticulously slathering avocado on a chunky piece of sourdough toast with the back of a spoon. He must have grabbed groceries this morning since that doesn’t look like the loaf of bread I bought the other day.
“Who invented avocado toast?” He holds up the breakfast item like it’s Simba. “Seriously. Have you thought about it? It’s up there with penicillin and birth control.”
That stops me in my tracks and stops me from ogling him in just those workout shorts that hug his hips. “Birth control?”
“Well, yeah. It’s a great invention. It gives a woman more choice.” He taps his bare chest with his free hand. “Raised by a single mom here.”
My heart twists, and I feel even worse for my sex failures. My ex was right. The problem is me. I couldn’t even come for a hot, sweet, flirt of a man who not only cares about women but bought his own groceries rather than snitching mine.
“It’s a top invention for sure,” I say brightly, glad we’re not talking about last night at least. He’s moved on, so I can too. I grab onto the conversational offering he just gave me as I snag a banana from the counter. “And I was raised by a single dad,” I say.
One eyebrow quirks up in obvious interest. “Yeah?”
“My mom took off when I was ten.”
His expression twists in irritation. “Eight for me. Damn, are we living parallel lives?”
“Maybe,” I say, unpeeling the fruit, then breaking off a chunk since it’s too hard to eat a banana in front of a guy any other way. It’s not like I’m going to slice it with a knife. That’s the worst way to eat it. Then I add lightly, “I mean, I like avocado toast and antibiotics too.”
He laughs as I pop in a chunk of fruit, and his laughter has to be a sign we’re both going to sweep last night under the rug and never speak of it again. Just to be sure though, I shift to practical matters as Hollis spins around and grabs the sea salt from the cupboard. “I talked to Kailani. She said she felt terrible that she put me in your rental by mistake, but she has nothing else for me this week.” I fasten on a helpful smile, since I’m kind of the interloper here, and he has every right to just kick me out. “But we slept in separate bedrooms last night, so maybe it won’t be weird to share this cottage?”
I really don’t want to stay with my dad. I love him and all, but I want to be close to the festival. After the last week of commuting, I don’t want to drive back and forth for everything.
Hollis winces, sets down the sea salt. “About that…It’s not just me though. The guys are coming too.”
My eyes pop. “Guys?”
“Rhys. Gavin.”
This is the mother of all booking snafus. I peer into the living room, then up the steps to the loft above. We can squeeze in. We can definitely squeeze. “There’s a loft and two bedrooms,” I suggest, trying to make this work as I break off another small bite.
“And a couch,” he says, gesturing to the scene of my fake out and my failure.
I cringe. “I’ll stay with my dad.”
Hollis shoots me a look that says c’mon. “No. You won’t.”
“Bossy,” I say but it doesn’t feel as light as it did when I said it last night.
“I’ll sleep on the couch. There’s also a tiny house on the property. There’s plenty of room. And you don’t need to deal with more shit in your life right now.”
Yup, I’m definitely the problem. “You’re too kind. But I can’t, especially after?—”
“Listen, about last night. I’m sorry?—”
I can’t have him think the fake O incident is his fault. I have to try again to fix this. I set down the phallic fruit and advance closer but not too close. “Hollis, I swear it’s not you. Truly. You’re hot and sexy, and your hands are amazing, and your kisses melted me.” And you look too tempting standing here in barely anything. “So it’s not you,” I say, even though I hate opening up. I hate letting people in. “I just…it’s a me thing. I don’t really orgasm.” There. That’s enough. I don’t want him to think it’s his fault.
He blinks, horrified. “Wha-a-a-t?”
“With others,” I say quickly, fidgeting with a jar of wooden spoons, like they need rearranging. “But seriously. I meant what I said last night. It’s no big deal.” That big spoon should go here. This little spoon there. “But we don’t have to keep rehashing it and you don’t have to apologize. Can we just…not talk about it again?”
He sighs. Appears to give it some thought. “On one condition.”
