Page 75 of A Very Happy Easter

Really red, I could see that much, and the blisters made my heart lurch.

“They say salt water has healing properties.” Heath looked me up and down. “I thought you were strictly a one-piece gal?”

“I am,” I said through gritted teeth. “Remember how Salma offered to pack for me?”

“Ah. Well, as long as she didn’t decide to replace your undies with thongs. I can’t imagine those are comfortable.”

I stared at him for a beat, my lungs tightening, then ran for the house. She hadn’t. Tell me she hadn’t…

Heath found me sitting amidst a pile of clothing, holding flimsy scraps of lace and trying not to hyperventilate. The sets I’d bought from Black Lily were all there, but somehow, they’d multiplied. He plucked a pair of barely-there knickers out of my hand and chuckled.

“Interesting.”

“I wanted a relaxing holiday, not six weeks spent fishing lace out of my arse crack.”

“Would it help if I said you’d look good in it?” When I glowered, he took a step back, hands up. “Okay, I definitely won’t say that. Want to borrow a pair of boxers?”

I threw the matching bra at him, and he caught it on instinct, wincing as he did so. Shit.

“Sorry. Sorry, I just didn’t think…” A tear trickled down the side of my nose. Why did my emotions lurk so close to the surface these days? “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“It’s nothing. Tomorrow, I’ll go into town and hunt you some new underwear, okay? Just wear the lacy stuff for one day. Or go commando.”

“Commando? Ugh.”

He wiggled his hips. “Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it. Get a bit of airflow down there.”

“You’re such a doofus.”

“Well, by virtue of our arrangement, I’m your doofus for the next six weeks, so good luck.”

Arrrgh.

“I can’t believe we made that.” Discreetly, I loosened the drawstring on my shorts. “Fingers crossed we don’t get food poisoning.”

“You’re right, I should head to the hospital just in case.”

“Gee, thanks.”

Heath leaned across the table, his chin resting on bandage-less hands. A week into the trip, the salt water had worked its magic, enough for him to forego the dressings permanently.

“We’ll be fine, oh ye of little faith. You did most of the work anyway.”

On our first night on Sasurra, we’d stumbled across Roots, a cosy restaurant between Casa Santo and Mandarin Bay, not quite in town and filled with locals rather than tourists. Instead of ordering from the menu, Heath had suggested asking the chef to surprise us. Some of his best meals had come that way, apparently, and only a handful of bad ones. And wasn’t this an adventure?

We’d been served fiery jerk chicken with rice and peas, which weren’t the little green devils I’d learned to hate as a child but more like beans. I’d mentioned that I wished I could cook a meal like that, which had led Heath to surprise me with a cooking lesson today. Mamie was in her mid-sixties and cheerfully taught us how to make half a dozen dishes as I frantically tried to keep up with her instructions. The chicken appeared to be cooked all the way through, so that was a good sign.

Our first week on the island had flown by, mainly because we’d spent most of it sleeping. Sleeping and swimming, Heath in the sea and me in the pool. I’d learned to live with the bikinis. Apart from the occasional paddleboarder floating past, Heath and Lisette—the maid—were the only people around, so what did it matter? As for the lingerie, after Heath had gifted me a three-pack of the ugliest granny knickers the world had ever known, I’d given in and embraced the lace.

And I’d thought that maybe I was rediscovering the girl I used to know.

The dreamer.

The hedonist.

Okay, so the social butterfly was still missing in action, but we had five weeks left in paradise, so perhaps she’d make an appearance at some point?

As for Heath, he had a tan line low on his hips where his board shorts sat, and he’d given up shaving. The cosplay castaway look suited him. Who knew a beard would take him from handsome to heart-stopping?

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