Without another word I swim to shore, leaving Basil and our ruined moment behind.
* * *
“Can I see it?”Basil asks for the second time.
“No,” I mutter. A hiss of pain falls from my lips from the burning streaks of agony. I typically process pain alone, which is clearly the opposite of her plans. Sitting spread-eagle on top of a counter in a public restroom while my target examines my crotch is an obvious response from the universe for my foolishness. Why can’t I stay away from her?
“You may not,” I insist. “There are people around. It’s embarrassing.”
Her raised brow reminds me of her sassiness…and how she refuses to not get what she wants. “Have it your way, then.”
She takes a step back and yells as if she’s making an announcement to the entire island. “I canassureyou there is nothing embarrassing about your wife being between your legs on our honeymoon.”
Giggles echo against the walls and the remaining women pass and stare. Basil returns her tone to normal when the room is empty. “There. Privacy.” She smiles and locks the door. “Nothing I haven’t seen before, darling. Now strip.”
Eventually, I do as I’m told and cover my lap with a shirt, then carefully maneuver my boy-shorts bikini off. With legs clamped shut, I say, “I don’t know what stung me, but it hurts like hell. This is your fault. I told you—”
“Quit being stubborn and let me help you.” Basil's commanding tone is back as she holds my gaze.
I wish those gazes would end. Our shared looks make my stomach flutter. I take a deep breath. We’re alone, which makes the situation easier to trust. My cheeks are ablaze from being naked and vulnerable, as well as the stinging sensation on my upper thigh. I reluctantly drift my legs open for Basil to study the injury.
Her face turns serious, and she bends down to examine. “Thought so. A jellyfish sting.” Using two fingers, she spreads my legs wider. The grimace on her face worries me. “A nasty one. Do you feel any chest pain or difficulty swallowing?"
I inhale through my nose and let the air exit my mouth. “No…I don't think so. Maybe? Why are you asking questions like I'm dying?”
Basil's light chuckle calms me a bit. “Just procedural questions. The good news is I don't see any tentacles to remove.”
My mind flurries with panic. “Tentacles?! See, this is why I don't swim in the—”
A sudden shiver travels up my spine. My fingers clench the sides of the countertop as cool air from Basil's breath caresses up and down my inner thigh. The ache I have has officially drifted north.
“Does that help?” She looks up, and the air seems to leave the room, reminding me of our failed kiss earlier. A coy smile tugs at her lips. “If not, I can try something else.”
Naughty images of what “something else” looks like comes to mind.
Then I pause, and my nose scrunches. “Wait. You're not going to do what I think you are, are you? I’m not into the pee—”
“No.That'sa myth.” She rolls her eyes and jokingly swats my non-injured leg. I can tell she’s starting to get irritated by me, which I admit is a bit out of character. She rises. “Let’s make a quick trip to the taco bar for ice. You should be good to go for the semifinals. Keep an eye on it just in case. Doctor's orders.”
“Thank you, Dr. Jones.”
She sees my smile and shakes her head. “That’s my sister, not me. I’ve always been a little jealous that she got that title. I’m glad she pursued her passion though.”
“Wine isn’t yours?” I ask.
“Don’t get me wrong, I love my job, but sometimes I wish I had control of my career path. I’m hard on her, but honestly, Hazel’s always been the brave one. Taking the path with the most resistance toward her happiness.”
“Are you happy?”
Her lips form a pout. “I should be.” She says matter-of-factly, then hesitates. “I knew I wanted to be my own boss at age five, and taking over the family business was the blueprint. Following in my mother’s footsteps made the most sense. She’s tough, but she just wants me to be the best. I used to picture myself taking care of people like my sister. Less Big Pharma, more natural methods.” She fixes her gaze to the wall. “I dreamed of having my own apothecary boutique shop, but I’ll have something much bigger and better if I stick to the current plan.”
“It’s never too late. I started my business years ago for similar reasons.”
Basil’s interest seems to pique. “What type of work do you do?”
“Um—consulting.” I circle back to my injured leg, attempting to play it off like I wasn’t throwing a childlike tantrum minutes ago. “I'm good as new. Thank you.”
Basil starts to say something else but hesitates. “I’m sorry for not being honest with you back in Seattle. I wanted to prove how sorry I was today, not cause any more pain. Truth is, I’m glad you're here with me on the island.” There’s sincerity in her voice. She plants a tender kiss along the most sensitive area of my inner thigh.
