"Passion fruit, lime juice, allspice, and of course, rum in yours," Deacon announced, holding two hurricane glasses as he stepped outside. He put them down on the private patio's table. "I'm going to leave them here since we've proven by now hammocks and cocktails don't make for a great combo."

She chuckled. "Thanks, babe."

He removed the shirt he'd put on ten minutes ago when he'd left for the hotel's bar. He walked toward the hammock Rayna was lying in and climbed inside with unexpected ease.

"Smooth."

"Right? Would almost make us forget about yesterday's unfortunate incident."

She laughed. "Mhm." Her lips found their way to his, a path overly familiar these last couple of days. His hands were still cold from having held the glasses, and when he ran one finger under her breast and down to the waistline of her bikini bottom, she twitched at his touch.

"Hey," he said, like he'd just remembered, "a guy accosted me at the hotel's bar."

"Can't blame him." She grinned and shifted closer to him, one knee sliding between his legs. She brushed one black painted fingernail over his stubble before she started kissing along his jawline, moving to his neck.

"No, I mean, he and his wife recognized us. They're huge fans of yours."

"We should have stuck to my plan and never leave this room," she half-joked.

"Well, he had a request." This caused her to pull back and look at him. She had a feeling she wasn't going to like it. "He asked if we could surprise his wife with a song, and I told him I'd talk to you about it."

She grimaced. "Nooooo, Deacon. Why?"

"It's their honeymoon."

"It's our honeymoon."

"If we spot Dolly around here, I promise I'll go harass her until she sings something for you," he teased, smirking. "Seriously, I think we should do it. I brought a guitar, anyway."

"You always bring a guitar." She sat up, slid her legs outside the hammock and jumped to the ground. She walked alongside the pool to the table where their cocktails were waiting.

"Why are you so against it?" he asked, following her. She'd already sat on one of the cushioned rattan chairs, and he turned another one around so he would face her.

"Because if we do that, there's no way there won't be a pic or a video ending up on social media, and then some journalist will inevitably pick it up. I want privacy. I want to be able to go away with you for a few days without any magazine writing about it."

"I get that, but can't we simply ask them not to post anything?"

"And a few days later, they'll swear they didn't mean to, but they shared it with a friend who shared it with a friend... Trust me." She knew his heart was in the right place, she loved him for that, but she'd grown sensibly more cautious these days when it came to keep her private life, well, private.

He sighed. "Alright, maybe I'm being naive here. Listen, I told him it was far from a sure thing anyway."

She ran one finger on the sugar coated rim of her cocktail glass and licked it.

"Hey," he said, "let's forget about it." He stretched one leg out, slid his foot along her calf. "I liked where this was going."

"You're the one who changed the conversation," she remarked. Her automatic smile, though, told him she wasn't going to hold it against him for long.

"I never know when to shut up."

Deacon closed the door behind them as Rayna kicked her sandals off and let the beach bag drop to the ground. He saw her squirm and mumble to herself.

"What, baby?"

"I hate sand."

He smirked. Some things never changed. She'd always been more of a pool person than a beach one. She grabbed a pen on the hotel's table, and stuck it between her teeth while she pulled her red mane into a bun. She reached for the pen and skillfully fixed it in her hair. She untied the pareo from her hips before heading outside.

Deacon watched her walk the stairs down into the pool, and it crossed his mind, not for the first time since they'd arrived, that he must have done something really good to deserve this.

Rayna swam across until her arms rested on the opposite edge of the infinity pool. The private patio was overlooking the bay, and the view was stunning with the Pitons towering over the Carribean Sea.

Barely a few seconds later, she felt Deacon's lips brush over her shoulder. She turned around. "Hey." Her arms and legs wrapped around him, her chin settled in the crook of his neck, and she let him drift both of them around the water. She thought about all the times before when she'd said there was nowhere else she'd like to be. She was wrong. Nowhere else was here, with Deacon. The idea of buying out the hotel, flying the girls over and never leaving the island again appeared to be a scenario worth considering.

"I have a feeling I'm going to regret it," she said, and he pulled back to look at her, confused for a second, "but I think we should do it."

"Do what?"

"The song."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Let's do this and I promise not to talk to strangers during our next honeymoon."

"You're planning several of these?" she asked, amused. Not that she was complaining in the least.

"Well, we've got this second wedding coming up."

"Oh, right."

"I've got bad news, though."

"What?"

"It's our last evening here, and if you want to do it, we need to call the guy to plan it, rehearse a song, and—"

"Are you trying to tell me we have to get out of this pool?" she groaned.

"Think about karma, baby. You'll be rewarded in your next life."

"Is that how it works? Then I must have done something really good in my last one." As a means of illustrating her point, she slid one hand between them, while she started nibbling at his ear.

He moaned. Maybe the getting-out-of-the-pool part could wait a little longer.

Deacon walked into the kitchen to the sight of a busy Rayna navigating between a pancake pan and an open laptop. The pile of CDs next to it, he assumed, were the demos she'd told him about last night.

"How long have you been up?"

"A while." She transfered the cooked pancake to a plate, on top of an already sizeable stack. "Since we got back, my tireless manager has made a point of reminding me we were away for, you know, five whole days," she mimicked Bucky.

"It's Buck we should send on vacation." He reached for a mug. "Speaking of vacation," he segued, "it's been one week and I haven't seen our pretty faces in any magazine yet."

"So it seems."

He purposefully stood in her way, demanding her full attention. "We could almost say I was, what's the word already, right?"

She looked up, playful. "We could almost say you were, what's the word already, lucky?"

"Is this how our marriage is going to work, I'll never be right, only lucky?"

She flashed him a roguish smile. "You'll be plenty lucky." Her arms wrapped around his neck. He circled her waist, his hands migrating further south.

They turned around when they heard Maddie clear her throat. "I thought we'd set rules around here for this," she said, pointing an accusative finger as she headed to the fridge. "You're everywhere I look this morning," she added, amused.

"What?"

"You sang for fans when you were in St. Lucia? They posted a video, it's all over Twitter. Everyone's saying how sweeeeeeet of you it was," she mocked.

Rayna closed her eyes and dropped her head in defeat. When she looked up again and stared at him, Deacon felt like his luck had left for a vacation of its own.

"On the bright side... good PR?" he tried to spin it.

"Bucky will be happy. But, babe?"

"Yeah?"

"About our next honeymoon—"

"Miles and miles away from any sign of civilization?"

"Yes."

"Duly noted."

TBC