Page 16

Ten

T hat beer last night had been a mistake, because Julia desperately needed to pee. She twisted toward Carson’s bed. Bet he’s an annoyingly chipper person who wakes before dawn to seize the day.

Oh good. Still asleep.

She could let her gaze linger on him, which she hadn’t sufficiently done since he crashed back into her life four days ago. His bare-chested greeting at the pool house was a special struggle to start things off, but, like a goddamn professional, she’d avoided the linger.

Mere feet away, Carson slept on his back.

Puffs of air rhythmically escaped his full lips, like a metronome.

She was fascinated by the ways he’d changed.

Firmer jaw line and longer, wavier dark hair that suited him.

In high school he’d kept it short, a classic jock cut.

Sometime in the night, he’d thrown off the comforter and shoved the sheet down to his hips.

She was sure he’d gone to bed in a T-shirt.

Guess he ran hot while he slept and had taken it off?

She was glad he had. The morning sun shining through the sheer curtains loaned his exposed pecs and abs a golden glow.

Stray blond hair glistened within the soft down of his body, especially his chest. He’d filled out there, and through his shoulders.

What else had filled out? She could take a peek.

No, that was bad. She shouldn’t. Wouldn’t, because that’d violate all sense of—

Gasp.

He had a legit tent situation. An impressive one at that.

On a deep breath, his eyes fluttered open, and he twisted toward her.

“Morning.”

Oh boy, his gravelly morning voice was sexy.

Oh man, his erection was now pointing directly at her.

“Morning,” she trilled, then slithered from bed and dashed toward the bathroom, phone in hand. She didn’t want to be there when he discovered his morning wood.

Morning timber, more like it.

As she scrubbed her teeth and face, the image of a sleeping Carson superimposed itself over everything. The sink’s bowl—his square-jawed face. The shower curtain—his broad chest. Her reflection—giant erection.

Stop that. She pressed her palms against her closed eyes, and there he was again. She knew it was wrong to stare at a person while they slept, so she got what she deserved.

Pure, unwelcome, unadulterated horniness.

How could a man who irritated her also turn her on, especially with their history? When someone wronged her, no matter how hot they were, she dried up. Total turn-off, instant villain. Life was too short to pine for red flags.

With Carson however, her body spotted green flags on green flags on green flags.

Yeah, well, her body should hush.

Staring into the mirror, Julia twisted her hair into a high ponytail, the only acceptable hairstyle for running errands in Belize during the rainy season.

Then she picked up her phone—7:45 a.m.? This was the latest she’d slept since…

She couldn’t remember. After swiping on lip gloss, subtle eyeshadow, and enough mascara to make her blond lashes visible, she opened the Positively Productive app.

She couldn’t believe Carson had a hand in developing this tool.

It was like he took all the organizational methods and project mapping she’d shared during their tutoring sessions and turned it into a digital version, only better.

After double-checking the tasks that were on tap for today, she swiped to the daily affirmation.

She locked gazes with herself in the mirror. “Amazing opportunities exist for me. I am open to miracles in my life.”

Miracles like Carson half-naked on the other side of the bathroom door.

Wait, was that a miracle? Or a curse?

Quietly, she opened the door and… Oh. He was sleeping again.

Good. She didn’t need an audience as she selected a coral maxi dress for today’s itinerary. She eased open the dresser’s top drawer and selected a matching blush-pink bra and panties. Lingerie was her secret vice, a hidden confidence booster.

Back in the bathroom, she changed.

There. That was the version of herself she preferred. Styled, pressed, and a light daytime face. As she folded her T-shirt and PJ pants, a knock on the door startled her.

“Hungry?” Carson asked. “I ordered room service.”

“Yeah, be right out.” Her stomach cheered as she exited the bathroom and the aromas of bacon and her beloved Belizean coffee greeted her. “Impressive kitchen turnaround. You placed the order, what, ten minutes ago?”

“Nope.” Carson turned from the tray on the small table in the corner.

Wow. This intimate peek of his sleepy eyes and stubble thrilled her.

“I ordered breakfast last night before I came upstairs. Figured you’d want to get a jump on today. It’s light fare so we don’t fill up before we sample the tasting menu. Take your pick, and I’ll eat whatever’s left after I shower.”

It was nice not to be the default person thinking ahead.

“Thanks.” She poured rich, black coffee from the French press, then added cream and sugar. One sip and she was in heaven.

“Welcome.” Carson withdrew clothes from his suitcase. “Oh, and Julia? You’re the most focused, detail-oriented person I’ve ever met, so you don’t need miracles. If anything goes sideways, though, don’t worry. I’ve got you.”

Carson closed the bathroom door.

He’d heard her? Embarrassing. Thank goodness today’s affirmation was benign. The other day she’d cooed, I accept myself the way I am. I am gorgeous and sexy. I become more attractive every single day.

She might’ve fainted if he heard her say that.

And she’d believe his I’ve got you claim when she saw it. The only person to truly look out for her, no matter what, was Dad. But he’d been three thousand miles away for half her life, and there was only so much he could do from Belize.

As for Mom… Julia understood why she wasn’t available for the day-to-day stuff.

LA was expensive. With a full-time job and a personal-shopper gig on the side, Mom had focused most of her energy on earning a living.

Well, and dating. But that meant Julia couldn’t count on anyone but herself to pack lunches, book dental appointments, or fill out FAFSA forms.

She’d been her own safety net. She didn’t wait for miracles—she performed them.

After sipping her coffee, she cut into the expertly made egg-white omelet. She could murder a bacon, egg, and cheese–stuffed fry jack, but Carson was right. Showing up full to a menu tasting meant she wouldn’t properly judge the flavors.

Ugh, she’d actually thought the words Carson was right .

Over the past few days, he’d been kind, helpful, and thoughtful. The core of him was the same confident guy dripping with charisma. But maybe…

She tilted her head.

Maybe she could trust him.

* * *

Carson tucked his nose under the neck of his T-shirt. “This is…not ideal.”

He and Julia stood on the exterior esplanade with Holly, Azul Caye Resort’s event coordinator.

The inside space was great—dance floor, lazily spinning ceiling fans, and a view of the beach.

On the website, the ocean’s curling waves were crystal blue.

Today, however, seaweed tinted the ocean brown and it smelled like a boiling sewage tank.

“Ugh, I can taste it.” Julia held her nose. “Has there been a lot of sargassum this season?”

Holly shook her head. “This is unusual. It normally washes ashore as the water warms in the spring. We’re working on it, as you can see. It will be addressed before the wedding.”

Dozens of workers with rakes and pitchforks, wheelbarrows, and ATVs, stood ankle-deep in wet mounds of seaweed to comb it from the water.

“In three days? There’s no way.” With her fingers still pinching her nose, Julia sounded like she had a cold. “We have to move it indoors.”

Her suggestion was the safe choice, but they shouldn’t give up so fast.

“They have their heart set on a beach wedding,” Carson pushed back.

“Not when it smells like that.” She let go of her nose to gesture toward the beach and immediately winced. “We could have the ceremony at another location.”

“I understand your concern,” Holly said. “But you’ll find the other resorts are fully booked due to the festival, though I’m happy to help you investigate options.”

“This freaking festival,” Julia muttered under her breath. “What if more sargassum washes ashore? We can’t risk everything happening in this stinkfest. It’s better to call it now so we can plan the rest better. They’ll get over it.”

Carson shifted his weight. She was right, but their parents had stressed that they wanted to exchange vows in the open air, with the sand and the ocean serving as their church. Come hell or sargassum-infested high water, he’d do everything he could to fulfill his father’s wishes.

How could he not at least try?

After the accident, Dad had helped him pick up the pieces of his life.

Had never lectured him or made him feel like garbage while they met with lawyers.

Unlike Mom, who’d basically disappeared, Dad stood with him as he grieved the future he’d thought he’d have.

And when he’d accepted he’d never be Carson Miller, MLB All-Star, Dad had encouraged him to go to Cal State Fullerton anyway, take business classes, and stop beating himself up.

“Aren’t you supposed to be open to miracles?” he asked.

“Yes, but I’m a realist who can’t take this smell anymore.” Julia delved back into the hotel’s cool shelter. “You know I’m right about this, Carson.”

He did, but he couldn’t squelch his optimism that the ocean would cooperate.

“Can we make a game-time decision?” he asked Holly. “If more sargassum washes ashore, can we move everything indoors?”

“Absolutely.” She led them toward the hotel’s restaurant. “The menu is next. Three guests have a gluten intolerance, and we have a preference for seafood, correct?”

“Yes,” Julia said. “Could you give us coffee beans?”

That was an odd request.

“Of course, miss.” Holly paused at the ma?tre d’s stand. “James, these are the organizers for this weekend’s wedding. Can you show them to table twelve?”