“You’re the best,” Joy told him with an exuberant hug after they’d checked into their rooms, and she meant it. He always seemed to know what she liked, wanted, or needed before she did. He’d especially been considerate when it came to the bucket list, going out of his way and sacrificing his time so that she could finish it.

Joy showered off the bug spray and caked-on sweat. She balled up her dirty clothes and changed into her bikini. Dylan met her at the pool with a bag of burgers and fries from the fast-food drive-in across the road. He looked sinful in his swim shorts and shirtless, and Joy bit into her lower lip to hold in a moan of pleasure.

“Do my back,” she said when he settled on the lounger beside hers. The late afternoon sun was blistering. She tossed him her sunblock, rolled onto her stomach, and buried her face in her towel, but not before she saw Dylan’s reaction when he snatched the tube one-handed midarc. He looked like he’d both lost his Gibson and signed Coldplay to his label. Scared shitless and elated at once.

It took a good half minute before Joy heard the plastic lid snap open and an equal amount of time before she heard him squirt lotion on his palm. She held her breath as he vigorously rubbed his hands together, then she gasped when he rubbed them on her. He was achingly thorough. Joy bit the towel, stifling a groan. She smelled coconut and pineapple, her favorite summer scents, and she’d now associate those with Dylan. He worked the lotion in and her up.

What was he doing? His hands, oh my God. They moved all over—her ankles, the small dip in her back, the curve of her shoulders, the slope of her upper arms—and then they were gone.

A loud splash sounded behind her. Water sprayed the concrete near her chair and the backs of her legs. Joy rolled onto her side and lifted to her elbow just as Dylan surfaced in the shallow end. He shook the water from his hair.

“Stay there,” he said testily when she started to rise. “I need a minute.” He grimaced and Joy frowned. It was just sunscreen. Taryn applied it to her back all the time. So did Mark, almost clinically because he didn’t like it when she burned. She’d complain, then blame him.

Dylan shot her a disgruntled look and Joy’s mouth parted. It took her a moment, but she threw her head back and laughed. Her experience with men was minimal. She might be naive, but she was a fast learner. Dylan was a little worked up himself.

“You okay?”

He dragged a hand down his mouth and over his chin. “Joy, you’re amazing, but his ring is still on your finger.”