“Bekka, hold the glass close. It looks romantic enough for Instagram.”
Beks lifted the champagne flute, tilting it toward hers. “Like this?”
“Step a little closer together?”
She took a step closer and absolutely did not fondly remember how Beks smelled like incense and essential oils.
Not.
Damn it.
“Good. Good. That’s perfect. Let me get a couple.”
Beks was still, but not stiff, and her long, dark hair brushed Marissa’s fingers.
She kept still because she was told to and focused on the hot tub sitting right outside a set of double doors that led to a small, private deck. She was going to sip champagne, rekindle the buzz she’d had when she got out of the limo, and search her phone for the best bars and hang-out spots at the resort.
There had to be somewhere for apres-ski yumminess. Everything she’d read about this town said it was lesbian friendly, with a number of welcoming businesses.
“That’s really good, you guys. All done here.”
“Great.” She relaxed and set the champagne down in the ice bucket.
“So, tomorrow you’ll get your lift tickets and rentals for the week, and then you have a complimentary couples ski lesson. I’ll come to that to get some more pictures.”
“Couples…” She sighed. She could probably use the lesson; it had been a while since she was on skis. But did she want to make a fool of herself with Beks?
“I’ll do my best to break something before the lesson, just to make it easier on you.”
“Fantastic. If you don’t make it downstairs for our romantic dinner for two that would suit me just fine as well.” She didn’t even know if there was such a thing, but she liked the snarky retort anyway.
“Actually, the romantic dinner is in the suite, just let me know when you want it scheduled. It’s catered. And thanks for reminding me, I’ll need pictures then too.” Bryan was starting to get on her nerves. Or maybe it wasn’t really Bryan, it was just this whole…debacle.
She should have said no to all of this.
“Jesus. Really? Well, if you don’t need a picture of me taking off my dress to go sit in the hot tub then you can be going now,” Marissa said.
“I need to rent a car, man. I’ll go down the hill into town, and let the diva have her space.”
“I’ll give you my keys, Bekka. No worries.”
There had been a time when being called a diva hurt her feelings. These days, Marissa owned it, even though anyone that really knew her only used it to be funny. “Yes, leave the diva to her spacious solo vacation suite so she can pretend like she wasn’t walked out on. Thank you!” She herded them both toward the adjoining doors. “Goodbye. Again.”
Bryan took Bekka’s arm, voice low. “Jesus. What is the tea between you two?”
“She’s stuffy. I’m me. I’m going to go down to the town and get a room. She’s got shitty energy. Obviously she’s in a terrible place.”
“I heard that. And I’m allowed to be in a terrible place. And you’re the last person I expected to run into here. Or ever.” Maybe she just needed to relax and get over herself. She’d left New York at some ungodly hour, and it had been a long day.
“No one planned this, Marissa. No one. We’re just trying to roll with the punches.” When the fuck had Beks become reasonable?
“Okay. Well, forgive me if this particular punch—and I’m not talking about you—is more than I can really just roll with today. I’m tired. Maybe tomorrow. Have a good evening. Thanks. Goodnight.” She closed her half of the adjoining door.
“Hot tub here I come.”
4
“What the fuck were you thinking? You didn’t tell her you were hooking her up with someone for the week?” And it had to be her “You’re too much of a flake to commit to” ex-girlfriend Marissa Martin, didn’t it?