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He’d teased her about her taste in movies and jewelry—whatever, she could ignore it.

The worst, though, was what turned out to be their last tutoring session.

After waiting for a response to her text for fifteen minutes, she’d gathered her stuff and left the library.

Just in time to hear him tell his cousin she looked at him with sad puppy eyes, that she pawed at him while they were studying.

That it’d be different if she was hot, but this was pathetic.

He’d only picked her for his tutor because she was a creepy nerd so he’d be able to focus on the work.

Her heart had deflated like a leaky balloon.

She’d headed straight to Dr. Temple’s office to quit, but Carson had already fired her.

He’d gotten his grades up for baseball season, so they were done.

Rumors were already swirling that she’d flung herself at him.

For people who were supposed to have squirrel-sized attention spans, a whole fucking lot of them called her Sad Puppy, SP for short, until she graduated.

So no, she would not be falling for Carson Fucking Miller’s shit a second time. She’d keep her walls up. Even if he flipped switches inside her she’d super-prefer not to acknowledge.

“What’s taking you so long?” she called.

“I didn’t pack a bag, so I had to dig through my old stuff. This better?”

He reappeared in an ancient Dodgers shirt that had been washed so many times it hugged his defined chest and shoulders like his number one fan. She recognized it immediately. It was his post–practice and shower shirt, the one he’d worn to at least half their tutoring sessions.

“Yes.” She sat on the lone firm gray couch. “We have a lot to do.”

He sat next to her, his thigh dangerously close to brushing hers. “Couldn’t agree more.”

Sweet fucking Christ, this would be a long two weeks.

* * *

Ah, hell. He’d practically sat on Julia.

In ordinary circumstances, he would’ve flipped the mistake into flirtation.

My aim’s off, but your lap seems like a better place to sit than the couch anyway.

Unless you want to sit on mine? These, however, were no ordinary circumstances.

Aside from the fact that she barely tolerated him, she was off-limits.

Because stepsister.

But not yet , whispered an unhelpful, bordering-on-evil voice.

“Actually.” Carson popped up from the couch. “I think best when I’m on the move.”

He grabbed a baseball from his stash on the kitchenette’s counter, then rolled it up his forearm and bounced it off his biceps.

“Where’d they book the site for the wedding and reception?” he asked.

“Azul Caye Resort,” she said. “It provides a private beach for the ceremony, an indoor event space, and the meal. I built a prioritized list of TBDs.”

“Great. Hit me with it.” Lightness filled his chest. Maybe things would work out. This could be an excellent working partnership. They’d build on each other’s knowledge, volunteer for tasks, and probably get so in sync they’d finish each other’s sentences.

Julia scrolled her tablet. “We need to select the menu, and…”

He filled her pause with the next logical task. “Outline guests’ dietary concerns.”

She shook her head. “Not what I was about to say.”

“Oh.” He rolled and popped the ball again. “Dessert? Dad hates lemon, FYI.”

“ Carson. Not that, either. Let me speak.”

He caught the ball and paused. “Sorry. Go on.”

“The Azul Caye Resort is undergoing renovations. Not sure if that’s why there was a cancelation, but we’ll check it out first thing to confirm it won’t be a problem. Like, make sure guests won’t have to hoof it a mile to get to the bathrooms.”

He grinned as he pointed at her. “That’s what I’m talking about. Excellent instincts.”

She glared at him. “Stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“This dynamic where you’re in charge and I’m your eager assistant.” She shot up from the couch, then popped her hands on her hips. “We’re doing this together .”

“I know.” He squeezed the baseball.

Julia took the ball from him. “Then write things down and stop with your patronizing ‘Great job, you spunky kid’ tone.”

She was so hot when she was annoyed with him. The pink spots high on her cheeks, the flash in her eyes, the heave in her chest… She obviously felt something about him besides apathy. An unhealthy thought, but he could work with annoyance.

“Who says spunky ?” he asked.

“Not the point.” She circled the ball between them. “And let’s not fawn over every good idea we have. We’re professionals. We’re supposed to have good ideas. Save the compliments for the exceptional ones.”

He stared at her. “Who hurt you?”

“You,” she said.

Daggers in his heart. She was right, though.

“Jules, I’m sorry. I’ll say it a million times to make you believe me.”

“You don’t get to use that nickname.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “You get I’m not your executive assistant, right? You should take more notes.”

“I take notes.” He tapped his temple. “Up here.”

“Not good enough. Back in high school—”

“We’ve probably both changed, haven’t we? I had to write everything down back then, but today my process is to talk things through. The conversation locks the plan in my memory.”

“Doubtful.” She tossed the ball back to him. “I’ve worked with self-described geniuses who got details wrong because they refused to take notes.” She retreated to the couch and picked up her tablet. “I use an amazing event-management app to keep my brain from exploding.”

His ears perked up. “What’s it called?”

“Positively Productive.”

Oh, he knew it well.

She tapped her tablet’s screen. “What’s your cell number?”

As he recited it, he couldn’t help grinning. She’d loathe what he was about to tell her. A second later, his phone pinged with a text from her that contained a link. He clicked on it, and it opened the project she’d shared on his phone.

“See that?” She leaned into his personal space, then pointed to the project list. Her scent was intoxicating. Like spicy apples. “That’s organized chaos. I’ll grant you edit permissions once you take the tutorial.”

He was so buzzed on her closeness he almost missed the last thing she said.

“I don’t need a tutorial,” he said.

“I highly recommend it. If you don’t, you’ll miss out on the amazing features.”

Glad she thought they were amazing. “So I, uh… I actually created the app.”

Julia’s eyes widened. She glanced at her tablet, then back to him, and repeated that cycle a few more times.

A flash of awe peeked through, the kind of admiration he used to see from the girls who’d flocked to him during his ballplaying days.

He’d be a fool not to register the look on her face when she was close enough to kiss.

Not that he would. Yet.

Shit, buddy. Slow down. That was not in the cards.

She hugged her tablet to her chest. “Say that last part again.”

“I created the app.” He jammed his phone into his pocket. “Cocreated, actually, with my buddy Aadi. I don’t write much code.”

She clutched her tablet to her chest. “Stop it. You did not.”

“Why would I lie about this? But you can check the app’s credits.”

“Positively Productive changed my life during my master’s program.

” She scanned him like she was meeting someone new.

“I tried using other tools, but they didn’t relieve my ‘Did I remember to do that?’ anxiety like this one.

I love the celebratory animations when I check things off. And the daily affirmations.”

“Your sister’s random notes inspired those.

They always gave you such a kick.” He clicked through to the credits on the About page.

“See? That’s me. I was the social chair for my frat, and one of my brothers, Aadi, was a computer science major.

We took rinse-and-repeat event basics out of my brain, Aadi wired up a prototype, and I shared it with the other Greek houses.

Everyone started using it, so we launched it. ”

“I can’t believe I’m part of my favorite app’s history.” She drummed her fingers on her tablet. “I should’ve guessed you’re a tech bro.”

He laughed. “No tech bro here. I sold my rights to Aadi and used the profits to start Limitless Events. Parties, celebrations—that’s where my heart is.”

He meant it, too. The world was full of dark shit. Celebrating the good stuff was important, and he loved being the guy who helped everyone have fun.

Julia stared at the brightly colored lists on her tablet. “The person who made this can’t be someone who shirks responsibility. In high school—”

“ Again with high school?” He crossed his arms.

She was silent. And, unless he was mistaken, ogling his forearms. For fun, he drummed his fingers to make the muscles dance.

Yep, she was definitely staring.

She licked her lips. “For my peace of mind, I need to say this out loud. Back in high school , you convinced girls to do your homework.”

Carson curved toward her. “I never convinced you to do my homework.”

She held her ground. “The only way you’d build confidence was to do the work. Far be it from me to steal that opportunity from you.”

“I’m pretty confident about a lot of things.”

“I’ll bet.” Julia rolled her eyes. “I’m just saying, I won’t do all the work for you.”

“You never did. Why would that change?”

“You make an excellent point. Let’s keep that divide-and-conquer energy going, ’kay?”

She tapped him twice on the chest.

Yep, that definitely made his cock twitch.

“Agreed,” he said.

Julia’s take-control demeanor did something to him, exactly like it had during their tutoring sessions. These days, he was the one who took control. His staff, friends—hell, even his dad—followed his lead because they respected him, liked him, trusted him.

Not Julia, though. Not yet.

He got why. If he was her, he wouldn’t like him, either. But if he could prove to her, his most reliable and accurate critic, that he’d changed and that she’d been right when she’d said there was something vulnerable about him…

Then maybe he could finally convince himself he’d changed, too.