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Then he takes it into the bathroom, dumping it into thesoaking tub. He does this several times until the ice is empty. For someone who doesn’t have brothers and sisters or a mom around, he sure knows how to take care of me.

He runs the water and helps me inside. Most of the ice has melted in the water, but it doesn’t stop the shock of the water temperature against my skin. “No. No. No.”

“You can do it.”

“It’s freezing.”

“The Becca I know doesn’t let anything or anyone stop her.”

I let out an aggravated sigh at him using my own words against me. I don’t know how many times I said that to John when we were on the phone, talking about my divorce. Inching into the tub, he holds my hand for balance until I’m seated in the chilling water.

The doorbell rings, and he says, “Perfect timing.”

He instructs the housekeeper, who turns out to be male, but it’s just muffled voices. About fifteen minutes later, the door clamps closed, and John returns to help me from the tub. He holds out a puffy blanket. “Where did you get that?”

“At the resort shop. I thought it would be good to dry you off instead of those white towels.”

“You think of everything. How am I going to repay you?”

“Don’t worry. I have a list a mile long, and none of it can be done in public.”

Arousal settles in my center, so I reach for his hand and slip it under the makeshift towel. “There’s one thing that isn’t burnt. As long as I can stand up, you can… you know.”

His fingers swipe through my folds before he takes it out and sucks his fingers, humming in appreciation. “No, babe. Sex is supposed to be enjoyed. One wrong move, and you’ll be crying out in pain.”

“You’re probably right.”

“I’m always right.”

Something between a chuckle and a gasp escapes my throat. “I’ll remember that.”

“Good, now time for more aloe.”

This time, some of the sting is gone, and I feel the sincerity in his hands. We walk around the villa, enjoying the moonlight and the sound of the tropical trees rustling. When the gel feels dry, we sit on the patio, playing gin rummy until we can barely hold our eyes open.

The group decided everyone would do their own thing tonight, and it’s a good thing because I wouldn’t have been able to go with my skin on fire.

“Let’s get to bed.” He holds up the new sheet, and I cautiously move under it.

“Ahh.”

“Feel good?”

“Yeah, like I’m at the Ritz.”

“This place is a hundred times better than the Ritz,” John says as he slides in on the other side, then scoots closer to me without touching me. “Try to stay on your side so your back or chest isn’t touching anything.”

I reach back for his hand, and it’s right where I expect it to be.

“John, I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. We just didn’t realize how long we were out there.”

“Not about the sunburn. I’m sorry for pushing you away. Leaving you a voicemail was cowardly.”

“It’s okay,” he says.

“It’s not. My parents and Mamaw didn’t raise me to be a coward.”