Whoa, and it’s a good one, too.

“How are you?” I lead her to the kitchen, setting the cookies on the counter while Hollis begins the classic snoop-around people do when they’re curious about your living situation. Her neck cranes to the doorway of the hearth room; it’s off my kitchen with a small fireplace and a TV, kind of like the den. Intimate and smaller and my favorite room in the house.

“This is nice,” she says, now with her nose in the powder room, which is also off the kitchen. “Do you clean this?”

“No. Jenny and Tiffani do every Monday.”

They’re my dynamic duo—they call themselves Grime Busters and love scrubbing. Weird, right?

“I like how there’s tile all the way up the wall.”

“I laid that tile myself,” I tell her, getting two wine glasses out of the cabinet and setting them down. Find the bottle of white in the fridge that’s been chilling and locate the corkscrew. “Wine?”

“Sure.”

“So, this might sound strange…”

Why is it hard for me to talk to this girl? She gets me all nervous!

“Everything you say is strange,” she teases. “Just say it.”

“I drew you a bath.”

Her brows shoot up; that’s the absolute last thing she’s expecting to come out of my mouth, something I’ve come to expect from her. “A bath? Why, do I stink?” She lifts her arm and sniffs her pits.

I make busy pouring a small glass of white wine for each of us and hand her one. “You smell delicious, but you had a bad day and I thought soaking would be nice.” In a cheeseball move I’ll remember as being the turning point, I take her hand and pull her in. Kiss her on the lips. “A good bubble bath cures almost anything.”

“Is that so?”

“Yup. I even have bath bombs for you. They’re phallic.”

The brows shoot back up into her hairline. “Phallic? Like dicks and vaginas?”

I shrug. “Meh, I wish—they’re eggplants and peaches. Come on, I’ll show you.”

Up the stairs and down the hall to my bedroom, her neck does the craning thing she did downstairs to peer into the passing rooms. Guest room. Office. Bonus space. Another guest room.

My bedroom.

It’s simple, nothing crazy: my giant bed, the TV cabinet, a nightstand and lamp on each side of the bed. The basics.

Clean lines.

I’ve picked up my bathroom, too, so there aren’t any skivvies lying around—dirty underwear did never a woman seduce. They’ve been swiped up and put in the hamper, off to the laundry for Tiff and Jen on Monday.

“Wow.” Hollis makes for the tub. It’s a ridiculously large bowl, sized for someone my height, devoid of bubbles because I wasn’t sure what she’d want in it.

I show her the box, picking out a boat and presenting it to her. “Motorboating.”

Hollis laughs. “That is not what that one means! It’s got to be something else. River of love? The love boat?”

“Nah, it’s motorboating.” I put it back in the box and pull out the one shaped like a clam. “Crotch.”

She smacks my arm. “Stop it.”

The peach. “Juicy ass.”

Hollis nods. “Okay, that one I believe.”

Eggplant. “Cock.”

Another nod. “Accurate.”

“This one I’m not sure about.” It’s a gold fortune cookie looking thing—half croissant, half I don’t know what the fuck. I turn it this way and that in my fingers, getting gold glitter on my hands. Swipe some on my face. “Now it looks like I’ve been to a strip club.”

She removes it from my hand and sets it back in the box. “You are twelve.”

“So are you going in?”

Hollis tilts her head and studies the water. “Are you going to sit here and keep me company?”

Duh. “Thought you’d never ask.” I point to the bath bombs on the ledge. “Do you want one of these or bubbles?”

She plucks the peach emoji bomb from the pink, cardboard box and examines it. Gives it a whiff. “This one smells so good. I’ll pop it in the water once I’m in the tub.”

“Should I…” Leave? “Give you some privacy?”

She purses her lips for a few seconds while she considers. “Just don’t stare at me directly while I’m getting undressed and we’ll be fine. It’s not like you haven’t seen me naked already.”

“Or licked your pussy.”

She rolls her eyes. “You didn’t have to say that, but yes—since you’ve already licked my pussy, what’s the point of me being modest?”

Holy shit. “I can’t believe you just said the P word.” I’m giggling like a teenager in health class and covering my mouth, too.

“You boys are so dumb.”

I laugh again but turn my back so she can undress, setting my sights on the terrycloth towels. Grab two of those, and a bathrobe, fold them neatly on the cool tile surrounding the tub.

Plus, I can see her reflection in the mirror while I’m gathering bath supplies, so I’m no angel.

It takes her a few moments to get her clothes off, and I watch her firm ass flex when her leg bends so she can lift it over the short ledge. She has a lovely backside.