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CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Becca

I blink awake. The wooden plantation-style shades are closed, but the slats are open, heating my slightly less red skin. My eyes are crusty and swollen from crying last night. I confessed the terrible choices I made, while John listened and comforted me. I’m completely embarrassed, not knowing why I told him. I’ve kept that to myself for almost fifteen years so what made me divulge it last night when I look like a lobster?

A thousand-pound weight has been lifted off my chest just by telling him. He promised he wouldn’t tell Corbin, and I believe he’ll stay true to me. I’m ashamed and embarrassed, but it’s nothing compared to the pain striking me as I try to push out of the bed—the sunburn wielding its power over me.

John’s up, moving around, and I suppose he hears me wince and curse. Suddenly, he’s by me, holding a mug with a sheepish smile that draws me in every time. “How’s the lobster skin?”

“You tell me,” I grunt as I press my finger against my chest, stinging me.

“Well, you’re more the color of a ripe watermelon instead of a lobster. I called the spa and asked if they had sunburn treatments. They recommended you come twice today. One is in anhour, then the other before bed.” He hands me his phone, showing the confirmation.

Ashamed to look in his eyes, I stare out the slatted shutters. It seems sunny and beautiful on the island. “Did you book one with me?” I ask, and he grins.

“Someone’s gotta hold your hand, not to mention I refuse to miss you being wrapped in Saran Wrap like a seaweed burrito.” He winks, and it takes my breath away. How can he still find me attractive or desirable after what I told him?

Despite the burn, I laugh and kick at him lightly with my foot. “You go golfing with the guys like you were supposed to,” I say, feigning a disciplinary tone. “I can go by myself.”

He chuckles, handing me a glass of water with orange slices floating around. “You honestly think I would rather go golfing than watch you walk in spa slippers? I have six more days with you on this island and I want to spend every moment with you.”

“I think you’re being overprotective because of what I told you last night.”

He squats in front of me, taking my hands in his. “Becca, nothing you could say would change my thoughts of you. I just wish I knew who the motherfuckers were.”

I trace the rim of my glass, searching the water for clues of what to say. “I’m glad we don’t. Honestly, I can barely remember his face.”

“Well, I’ve hired a profile sketch artist, so we’ll know soon.” His lips twitch as he fights back a grin.

I nearly choke on my water. “What?” I ask, sputtering. A few years ago, I went through all the professional hockey teams, researching where this former Stallion was playing, but luckily, he’s not in the league. Either that, or he looks completely different than in college.

“I’m teasing, babe. Now drink up. We have a spa session to get to.” He pumps my hands playfully. He hands me a loose aqua-colored sundress from the closet.

Dennis didn’t take care of me when I was sick. Never oncedid he pick out an outfit for me or take it upon himself to schedule an appointment at the spa. Sure, he gave me gift cards and bought the occasional bouquet of flowers, but he was oblivious to the part that mattered most—taking care of his wife and making sure I knew that he loved me.

It’s not that I need to be put on a pedestal but in the three days John and I have been sharing a villa, he’s proven to be more thoughtful and caring than Dennis ever was.

John helps me into my dress, so not to rub against the worst parts of my burnt skin, then he stares at me. “Has anyone ever told you how beautiful your eyes are?”

Other girls and maybe a boy or two who were trying to get in my pants in high school have complimented me and of course, my family, but not Dennis or the guy I dated before him.

I shrug it off and say, “Stop flirting with me.”

“Never.”

He interlocks his fingers with mine, brings the back of my hand to his lips, and presses into a gentle kiss that signals to my body that I want more. Unfortunately, I can barely move, so off to the spa we go.

When we arrive, they take us into a dark room, with music that relaxes me instantly. After shedding the thick fluffy robe, I cautiously slide under the blankets. John slips his hand from underneath the blanket and wiggles his fingers, wanting to hold hands. My head falls to the side, concentrating on his beautiful, tanned face.

“Your sunburn is all but gone. You should be enjoying yourself,” I say, hoping he doesn’t leave.

“You’re naked. I think I’m in the right place.”

His smile would melt my panties if I were wearing any. John’s dimples show through the stubble covering his jaw, and I can’t believe he wants me.

A male therapist walks in, and John darts his eyes in my direction. “Is there a female to work on Becca?”

“I’ll be treating you both today.”