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“Oh yes, sir, if you like punta, soca, reggae, dancehall, and or Latin beats. You’ll see Belize’s megastars. Even if you don’t go to the main stage, acts are popping up all over town.”

He tracked Julia, who was now inspecting the stand holding trifold tourism pamphlets. With her hair twisted and pinned up, he had a perfect view of the delicate column of her neck. She returned to the registration desk, head tipped back to gaze at the ceiling.

“You look like a tourist,” he said as the clerk handed him his keycards.

“I look like a hotelier checking out the competition.”

He rolled his suitcase toward the elevators. “This place isn’t competition until you’re working somewhere else.”

“ Yet. And ouch.” Julia slowly rotated as she followed him, scanning the wicker furniture with muted patterns, the ceiling fans with the palm-frond blades, the walls painted with a palette that matched the beaches behind the hotel and villas.

“But I’m talking about when my sister and I open up a boutique resort.

My market research shows tons of dive inns around here—places that opened up ages ago during the original tourism wave in the eighties.

Youth hostels, too. Then behemoths opened in the last decade, but there’s an underserved middle population. ”

“Like who?” he asked as they entered the elevator.

“Our customers would be people who can afford a nice Airbnb but prefer hotel amenities. A place where they don’t have to be their own cruise director, like this place. I’m scoping out potential differentiators.” She hovered her finger over the number pad. “Floor?”

“Six.” Carson’s belly dropped as the elevator tugged them upward. “You’ve put lots of thought into this.”

“I’m not just a pretty face, you know.”

He knew all too well that she also possessed a beautiful brain.

In school, he’d been a little embarrassed that his tutor was two years younger.

But her grasp of the subject matter was firm, and she had intense study skills.

She’d mapped out a plan to make sure they covered the right amount of material during each session.

He’d actually borrowed her principles for his college classes and the frat events he hosted.

Eventually, they made their way into Positively Productive app’s workflow structures for its initial release.

“I refine the Stone Adventures & Resort’s business plan when I’m not at work or doom-scrolling for new jobs.”

“See, the job thing confuses me. You’ve got the credentials and strike me as competent.”

She clutched her chest. “I may swoon.”

“I don’t understand why someone hasn’t snapped you up.”

“Story of my life, actually.” She grinned, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes.

The world was sleeping on Julia Stone.

He wouldn’t. Not any longer.

They strolled the hallway together until they arrived at room 612. After holding the card against the reader, the lock thunked . He opened the door and gestured for Julia to enter.

She giggled as she surveyed the small room. “I see you booked the Presidential Suite.”

“It’s what they had left,” he said.

The room was this close to being cramped. If there was one bed, the space situation would’ve been better. With two full-sized beds and the table and chairs in the corner, he had barely enough room to drag his massive suitcase to the luggage rack.

She whipped open the curtains that led to the pocket-sized balcony. “The view’s unbeatable, though.”

Beyond them lay the impossibly blue Caribbean. He flipped the lock and opened the sliding door. The breeze carried the scent he’d huffed at the airport. Earth, spice, citrus, and salt.

“The view’s probably what I paid for.”

“Definitely not the square footage,” she said. “Although I like the paintings. I bet they buy from local artists.”

“I hadn’t noticed.” Mostly because the way her top molded against her breasts was distracting him. “What should we do first? Check out the resort? Choose the cake?”

She shook her head. “Belize doesn’t do business after six p.m.”

“Room service? This seems like a nice backdrop for a cocktail.”

She checked her watch. “No can do, sir. I don’t want to be late to my sister’s.”

He nearly protested, but he didn’t want to repeat this morning. She was clearly a five minutes early is ten minutes late person.

“Got it,” he said. “Let me change my shirt.”

Never good to meet family when you’ve sweated through your clothes. His suitcase sighed as he unzipped it, then flipped the top open and coaxed a nearly identical blue T-shirt from the stack. He tugged at the back of his shirt.

The brisk air-conditioning was heaven on his heated skin.

“I can give you privacy,” Julia squealed.

“For what?” He twisted toward her and caught her eyeing him. Well, how about that? If she was looking, he’d give her a show. Carson flexed his pecs, and the interest that flashed in Julia’s eyes made him feel about ten feet tall.

“That.” With her gaze averted, she vaguely gestured toward his naked torso.

“Didn’t figure you for a prude.”

“I am not a prude. Far from it. But I don’t hang out in hotel rooms two feet away from half-naked strangers.”

“Not a stranger.” He dragged on the shirt. “We’ve known each other for a decade.”

“That’s technically true. If you’ve changed as much as you say you have, though, I don’t know anything about you. Ergo, strangers.”

“You don’t like to lose arguments, do you?”

“Are we arguing?” She popped her hand on her hip.

“Sure feels like it.” Not that he was complaining. Arguing with Julia was more entertaining than peace with anyone else. He opened the door. “After you.”

“Why do you keep doing that?” she asked from the hallway.

He tugged the door closed. “Argue with you?”

“No, open doors and handle my bags. I don’t know what to do with casual assistance.”

“You must hang around dopes. I’m a gentleman.”

She snorted.

“I know,” he said. “I wasn’t, once upon a time. But I grew up. Now I’m helpful. I open doors, pull out chairs, top off beverages. Gentleman stuff. You deserve that kind of attention.”

She poked the elevator’s Down button. “I don’t like to make work for other people.”

Something about that left a dissatisfied feeling in Carson’s chest. They’d handle the wedding, which wouldn’t be easy.

They’d spend a ton of time together, and Julia’d produce a successful event.

But that comment, right there, was the moment Carson decided he’d use this trip to Belize to convince Julia that she was worth the work.