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C arson Miller winced as he eased his SUV through his father’s Sherman Oaks driveway gate. A half dozen cars already dotted the parking pad.

Damn.

In a perfect world, he’d have arrived at the engagement party early and discreetly cleared the air with his dad’s fiancée’s daughter.

What could he do, though? On his way here this afternoon, his operations manager had alerted him to a significant menu change at a high-profile event.

She’d assured him she had it under control, but as CEO of Limitless Events, his number one responsibility was overseeing their transition from start-up to scale-up.

Word of mouth was crucial, and their pop-star client’s autobiography launch included big industry names.

So he’d turned his SUV around to help his crew.

Now, he’d be forced to surprise Julia Stone, his soon-to-be-stepsister and former tutor/crush, in front of everyone.

He had no idea how this would go. For ten years, she’d avoided him here in LA and on social media.

The last time they’d spoken in the lemon-scented hallway of Bronson Alcott High School, she’d clearly hated him with a supernova’s intensity.

After the rumors he’d spread about her, he’d deserved it.

He’d been such a tool, especially while she was tutoring him senior year. Most of their classmates let his antics slide, eager to be in his well-to-do, raucous, future-so-bright circle.

Not Julia, though. Focused, determined, and whip smart, she was two years younger and twenty times more mature than he and his friends had been.

And really, really cute.

His heart rate kicked up a notch. She was in there, right now, and didn’t know he was about to pop back up in her life.

From what he could tell, in the six months their parents had been dating, she and her sister hadn’t clocked that he was Jim’s son.

The second he’d realized they were Michelle’s daughters he’d planned to offer a private, heartfelt apology.

Groveling was best done in person, so he’d figured Thanksgiving would be his shot.

Instead, their face-to-face reunion would be at this party.

She’d have to give him a chance to apologize if their parents were getting hitched, wouldn’t she?

They’d both be part of the rehearsals, ceremony, toasts, dancing.

And after the wedding, he’d be around for the World Series and holidays.

Would she refuse to pass him dinner rolls? Kick him under the table?

If she was the same Julia she was in high school…maybe.

He blew out a long breath.

Please let her give him a chance.

Carson checked his reflection in the rearview, then ran his hand through his hair.

Older, humbled, and carrying scars from the car accident that grounded his college baseball career before it launched.

He gave his father all the credit for helping him through his darkest days, which was why he wanted to help the happy couple with their wedding planning.

It was his chance to repay Dad for helping him get on his feet after his accident.

From the passenger’s seat, he snagged a chilled Veuve Clicquot and ambled into the house through the back door. The caterers he’d booked worked their magic, and the aroma from the heavy appetizers made his stomach rumble.

“Hey, Andrés,” he greeted the chef. “How’s it going?” He jerked his head toward the party chatter outside the kitchen.

“Good.” Andrés straightened as he yanked a disposable chafing dish from the professional-grade oven.

“Been wanting to try this baby out since your dad had us all over for Labor Day. But if you’re asking about the service, the waitstaff’s circulating.

You just missed the daughter. She was in here asking if she could help. ”

“She was?” He angled toward the doorway.

“Yeah. Said she works in hospitality.” Andrés peeled the foil from the chafing dish, then plated the apps. “Told her no, obviously. Can’t put a guest to work.”

“What’s she wearing?” He tried to sound casual, but his nerves had spiked the moment he’d entered the house. He couldn’t let her sneak up on him and preempt his chance to steer the potentially prickly conversation to a private space.

Andrés lifted a shoulder. “I don’t know, man.”

“Yes, you do.”

“She’s your family, bro.” He avoided Carson’s gaze as he spiked toothpicks into maple bacon–wrapped scallops. “You’ll stop hiring me.”

“Tell me. Even if we weren’t Phi Gamma Titan brothers, I’d keep booking you because you’re the best in town. Now, what’s she look like?”

“Red dress that hugs her curves in all the right places.” He added a floral sprig to the platter. “Your sister’s hot, man. I might ask for her number. I’ve got a thing for blondes.”

Whereas Carson had a thing for one specific blonde who’d relentlessly pushed his buttons back in high school. But that ship had sailed, so he’d ignore this tight feeling in his gut. He had no right to be jealous.

“Stepsister. To be. Our parents aren’t married yet, and she’s only in town for this party.”

But he hoped Julia stayed longer. Michelle had given him the impression her daughter was at loose ends. If she extended the visit, he’d have a chance to siphon the awkwardness from this situation.

Andrés twisted a short stack of cocktail napkins, then set them on the platter. “A short stay? Even better. I’m a lotta fun for a night.”

“You’re a real gentleman.”

“Never claimed to be.”

Carson picked up the tray. “Do me a solid and leave her be. My dad’s the happiest I’ve seen him in ages. I don’t want anything or anyone to fuck this up for him, which includes my friends messing around with Michelle’s daughter.”

Andrés arched an eyebrow. “That’s a wordy way to say back off ’cause you’re into her.”

Carson’s heart skipped a beat. Into Julia? Not possible. Especially with their parents getting married.

“I’m not. I’m protective—that’s all.”

“Okay, okay.” Andrés held up his hand. “We’ll leave it there, Mr. Protective. Now get out there with those apps. They’re best served hot.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You’re telling the CEO of the fastest-growing event company in town how to handle an apps tray?”

“I sure as hell am. If it’s food, it’s my domain.” Andrés shooed him away. “Now go.”

Carson backed through the swing kitchen door without a word. The biggest pro and con to working with his frat brothers was they’d witnessed each other’s epic failures and successes since they were eighteen and relentlessly called each other out on their shit.

Good guys, all of them, but it didn’t mean he’d let them hit on Julia. She was going to be his stepsister, after all. Even if they were both fully adults, overly protective big brothers were normal.

And Julia was…where, exactly?

Not in here. Guests drifted from the living room to the pool area through the open sliding-glass walls. October was plenty warm in LA, but some people wore wraps to combat the slight chill in the air. She could be out there, somewhere.

Ready to pounce and confront him.

Jesus, what a rookie mistake to allow a potentially explosive moment happen in a crowd. As guests eagerly snagged bites from his proffered tray, a musical giggle from the pool area cut through the low conversational thrum.

He’d recognize her laugh anywhere.

Several people parted, and there she was, talking to his father on the patio.

Andrés’s description hadn’t done Julia justice.

Her sexy-yet-somehow-appropriate snug red dress with a fluttery skirt would be at home in Marilyn Monroe’s closet.

It contrasted sharply with her low ponytail, her shiny blond hair curling between her shoulder blades like a ribbon.

After handing the tray to a catering staffer, he adjusted his tie. No sense delaying the inevitable. He’d figure this out. Life threw plenty of punches, and he always found his feet.

Halfway to Julia, someone grasped his elbow.

“Carson,” Michelle trilled. “It’s about time.”

She stood with another woman who…yes, he’d met her before. At the Labor Day barbecue. Michelle’s sister. She was taller than his future stepmother, but the same gleam shone in her eyes.

“Minor emergency at work. You’re Mary, right?”

“Well remembered,” she said. “Can you believe these two plan to get married in Belize?”

He nearly choked. “You are ?”

This would ruin his plan to coordinate their wedding.

“Yes!” Michelle beamed. “Won’t it be fun?”

Mary rolled her eyes. “If you ask me, destination weddings are a not-so-subtle way to cut the guest list.”

“You’re such a downer.” Michelle bumped shoulders with her. “Especially about the date, but that’s out of our hands. When I called the resort I adore in Azul Caye this afternoon, they said they had a last-minute cancelation. So we booked it.”

The bacon-wrapped scallop he’d sampled wasn’t sitting well.

How could Dad not call before they’d settled on a date to make sure his only child could be there? Carson would move mountains if he had to, wouldn’t complain because he’d never steal any joy from a celebration.

But it stung that he was finding out like this.

“How last minute?” Carson’s current event schedule was booked out six months, but he could rearrange coverage.

“Next weekend,” Michelle said.

Carson wobbled on his feet. Next weekend?

Clearing his schedule that fast would be tough but doable.

His crew would rise to the occasion. The management tier he’d carefully hired over the past few years had said they wanted to shoulder more so he could focus on strategy.

And last week his COO had straight-up told him he was overdue for a vacation.

So what if it was a working vacation?

But damn, Dad. A heads-up would’ve been nice.

“You’ll need an event planner,” he said. “Timelines are tight.”

Michelle waved a hand. “Only if you’re fussy. All we want is to exchange vows on the beach and have a nice meal. Easy breezy.”

This was the problem with people who didn’t work in event management. Easy breezy was only achieved through diligent behind-the-scenes work.

He cleared his throat and adopted the tone he used with challenging clients. “I love that attitude, but you and Dad should put someone else in charge so you can enjoy the day.”

Mary nodded. “He’s right, Michelle. Wouldn’t it be nice to soak up the sun and be cruise-directed for your wedding weekend?”

“That does sound appealing.” She pressed her fist to her chin. “Especially since I’ve never had a head for details.”

“Or much else.” Mary giggled into her champagne flute.

“That’s enough from you,” Michelle said.

“I’d like to plan the wedding and reception,” Carson said. “As my gift to you and Dad.”

“That’s sweet, but things operate differently in Belize.” Michelle widened her eyes. “Oh wait, light bulb! Julia can do it. She’s mostly unemployed right now, and this would be a real confidence booster. Let’s go tell her the good news!”

Michelle dragged him outside. This was it. A moment ten years in the making. Which was unfortunately scored by Dad’s favorite sappy yacht rock.

“Jim,” Michelle called breathlessly. “Your son had the best idea.”

Julia’s back straightened. “Do I finally get to meet my stepbrother-to-be?”

He swallowed hard. “Hi.”

Her skirt flared as she spun on her wedge espadrilles. He regretted that they had an audience while Julia discovered her high school bully was Jim’s son, but he couldn’t fix that. Just…please let her not knee him in the balls.

Her gorgeous brown eyes widened as she locked in on him.

“You,” she accused.

A firework shot through him. Her sparkly hair clip…

the flush in her cheeks…the tantalizing peek at her cleavage…

He shouldn’t think this about his future stepsister, but Julia Stone was breathtaking.

He’d known she would be the moment she’d ordered him to crack a book during their first tutoring session all those years ago.

Didn’t take a crystal ball to see that in her future, but sometimes he hated being right.

Because this blaze of attraction? This would be a problem.

“Do you two know each other?” Jim asked.

“We…” Julia dragged her lush lower lip between her teeth. “Went to high school together. Carson was two years ahead.”

“Listen to this.” Michelle squeezed her daughter’s arm. “ Julia can handle the logistics for our whirlwind wedding! Isn’t Carson brilliant?”

“I can?” Julia asked.

“I assume so. Why spend all that money on a master’s in hospitality management at a fancy college if you can’t whip up a small destination wedding?”

Julia flipped her palms upward. “Scholarships paid for half.”

“More proof you’re the right person for the job.” Michelle threaded her arm through Dad’s. “Give me some sand, surf, and a warm sunset breeze with the man I love, and I’ll be a happy camper. It’s absolutely low stakes, so if everything goes sideways on you, it doesn’t matter.”

“Nothing would go sideways.” Julia muttered the last part under her breath, but Carson caught it. “It’s the rainy season, Mom. A beach wedding might not pan out.”

“Whatever will be will be, but I’d like an unforgettable moment exchanging vows with Jim and I’d like our children to be present.”

Dad lowered his brow, then cleared it, fast. Hmm. Last time he’d seen that expression, the Dodgers had been down five runs to the Yankees during Game Five of the World Series. Tonight was not the place, but he’d ask him if everything was okay.

Dad planted a kiss on Michelle’s cheek. “Whatever my bride wants, she gets.”

Julia thinned her lips, then backed away. “Will you excuse me for a moment?”

Her skirt swished as she sashayed into the house.

“Something we said?” Jim asked.

“No, that’s our Julia,” Michelle said. “When she hasn’t eaten, her hangriness takes over. She’ll be back to my sunshine girl after dinner.”

Carson rocked on his heels. Guaranteed he was the cause of Julia’s hasty flounce. Her mother didn’t understand the grace and control her daughter displayed after being surprised by the jerk who’d teased her mercilessly in school.

Not that he’d shed a light on that this minute.

“I’ll see if I can help,” he said and chased after Julia.