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“A minivan?” Carson asked as they headed to the parking lot.

“Yes. We’ll be carting stuff and people around, and my mom had knee surgery a few years ago. It’s easier for her if the car’s lower to the ground. What’s the problem? Minivans not cool enough for you?”

“Even when I’m married with kids, I’d rather chew off my own hand than drive one.” He pointed to a silver minivan. “That’s not terrible. It’s got more room than those other three.”

That caught her by surprise.

When he was married with kids? High school Carson Miller had a reputation for smashing and dashing.

The number of senior girls who’d never been in the library but were suddenly casually perusing the World War II–nonfiction section near their tutoring table helped solidify the reputation in her mind.

She didn’t care . It was interesting information, that’s all.

“Works for me if it means we get on the road,” she said.

He opened the lift gate and grabbed her giant suitcase. This time, she didn’t argue. If he wanted to heft bags, he could go for it.

“Thanks.” She dropped her weekender bag beside it. “We’ll head to your hotel first.”

Carson closed the gate. “Then dinner with your sister?”

“That’s right.” She ventured to the driver’s side…as did Carson. “What are you doing?”

“You said you were up all night.”

“Then I napped on the plane. I grew up here, Carson. It makes more sense for the person who knows the roads to drive.”

He flashed his palms. “We’ve got GPS, but okay. You’re in charge.”

Finally, he was beginning to understand their dynamic. She should’ve remembered that it always took him a minute to catch up.

* * *

Carson nervously tapped his knees as Julia drove them from the airport to the Azul Caye Inn.

Since the car accident that stole his baseball career, he rarely trusted anyone else behind the wheel.

One bad turn could mean disaster. But Julia was right—she knew these twisty, busy roads better than he did.

And if anyone took driving seriously, it was Julia.

Since she’d insisted they drive with the windows down, salty-ocean-and-pine-scented air whipped through the minivan.

The warmth prickled the back of his neck, and he rolled up his sleeves.

He was hot, but he wouldn’t give Julia the satisfaction of being right.

From now on, when checking the weather, he’d look at the humidity as well as the temps.

Eighty degrees in LA was pleasant. Here in Belize, where it was eighty-three percent humidity?

Eighty degrees felt liked wearing a hot wet sweater, then being wrapped in cling film.

It sure was beautiful, though. Happy sunlight beamed overhead, barely acknowledging the wispy clouds feathering the azure sky. Bright yellow-and-black birds with rainbow beaks circled above the dense green trees flanking the main road.

“What are those?” he yelled over the rushing wind as he pointed to the swooping birds.

“Keel-billed toucans,” she shouted. “Belize’s national bird.”

Looked a lot more fun than the American bald eagle. Like nature had mixed a rack of disco lights with a tropical bird.

The thick wall of trees thinned, revealing bright white beaches and beyond them, a calm silvery ocean.

The shore was like nature’s Xanax. As soon as he was within earshot of crashing surf, he always lowered his shoulders an inch, evened his breathing, and slowed down.

Digging his toes into the sand, the cool waves lapping at his ankles, then untethering from gravity and bobbing in the ocean’s vastness… It brought peace.

In LA, it took thirty minutes to get to the sand.

“Hey,” he yelled over the rushing air. “When can we check out the beach?”

“Tomorrow,” she shouted. “During the Azul Caye Resort tour.”

“No, to swim, nap, frolic. C’mon, I have to swim in the Caribbean while we’re here.”

“Before the wedding will be tough.” She tapped the steering wheel. “If we get through tomorrow’s list, maybe we can squeeze in a twilight visit.”

“I’ll take it.” Carson leaned back in his seat.

He poked the top of the door frame. The last time he’d taken a proper vacation was…sophomore year? Maybe this time in Belize was the forced break he needed.

Every day was a new opportunity in which to excel, but starting up Limitless Events his senior year of college and pushing it to the growth stage this year had been exhausting.

The grind was necessary, though. He’d had no choice but to pour himself into it and prove baseball wasn’t his one thing, that he’d succeed at whatever he put his mind to.

Maybe someday his mom would believe it, too.

This section of town was more heavily developed, riddled with cantinas, restaurants, churches, and marinas. Beyond them, the ocean glistened.

“How does anyone get anything done with a view like that?” He gestured toward the endless horizon of blue. “It’s hypnotic.”

“That’s what causes island time.” She eased into a parking space in the lot, then popped the lift gate.

“FYI, to maintain a schedule, embrace telling everyone things are happening an hour earlier than they actually are. Why are you staying at this inn, by the way? Wouldn’t it have been better to book a room at the resort? ”

He hauled his suitcase from the back. “It was fully booked until the wedding block takes effect. There’s a music festival in town, so this was the best I could do.”

“One of the many reasons I’m grateful my sister kept my dad’s house—a free place to crash when I’m in town.”

“Are you two close?” he asked.

He’d always wanted siblings. Not in the cards, but he’d found brothers in the fraternity.

Those dudes always had his back. Checked his ego, too, which was something he’d lacked in his childhood.

But he wished he had someone growing up in the same house with him to witness shit and tell him he wasn’t off base.

He might’ve figured out Mom was a conditional-love hard-ass sooner or that Dad rarely spoke up about what he wanted.

“We were close, once. The past few years have been busy. She’s running the tour company and I’ve been in school, but we’ll figure it out when I relocate.”

“I’m sure you will.”

It was obvious that Julia worshipped Alex in high school.

Her weekend plans had always involved her sister.

Not to mention all the times she’d cackled when she’d found messages like When in doubt…

don’t. Doubt’s for basic bitches in her notebook.

He’d meant it when he’d said her reactions had inspired the daily affirmations in the Positively Productive app.

He hustled to open the door for Julia. Inside the cathedral-ceilinged lobby lay several different service desks and guests lounging in the comfortably squashy couches.

“Oh, clever.” Julia appraised the welcoming interior. “The office is next to registration, and the bar’s right there. If people have food and entertainment, they’re less likely to complain.”

“Who’d complain? This place is perfect.”

Low lights, lazy overhead fans, and a bustling bar area.

It gave off five-star-luxury-Caribbean vibes without being fussy.

No worries, no stress. If anything went sideways, an army of staff would set it to rights while the guests sipped pina coladas.

Plus, the temperature was perfect. The air-conditioning blissfully siphoned the humidity from the air.

“You’d be surprised at what people complain about. Too few towels, the sheets don’t have a high-enough thread count, the remote isn’t responsive, the restaurant offerings aren’t varied, the neighbors two doors down are having outrageously loud sex.”

“You sound like you’re speaking from experience.”

“Oh, I am.” She lifted a shoulder. “The thing is I get it. People scrimp and save to set aside a pocket of time for relaxation, and I want them to have that. So I send extra towels, dip into the fancy linens, swap out batteries, ask the chef to craft a special order meal, and send complimentary room service to interrupt the sex-a-thon. People should feel welcomed and cared for. Like they belong.”

He easily pictured her in gracious problem-solver mode. Elegantly moving through the back-of-house areas like a dancer, collecting the things her guests needed, coordinating staff to deliver it, and doing it all quickly and with a smile. God, competency turned him on.

But it made him wonder…

“Who does that for you?”

She pursed her lips as they approached the counter. “What do you mean?”

“Everyone needs to feel like they belong.”

Julia rolled her eyes. “I’m not taking life advice from the guy who once made fun of my thrifted vintage dresses.”

His gut clenched. He’d earn her forgiveness if it was the last thing he did. “Again, I’m sorry. But just so you know, sometimes I was curious because your clothes were unique.”

She squinted. “Sure you were.”

Forgiveness would come easier if she believed he was sincere. He’d work on that, too.

“Can I help you, sir?” the registration clerk asked.

“Yes. I have a reservation for Carson Miller.”

“Thank you.” She clicked rapidly on the keyboard. “Ah, yes, I see you here. Welcome to the Azul Caye Inn, Mr. and Mrs. Miller.”

Julia laughed. “I am not Mrs. Miller.”

Damn. She didn’t have to laugh that hard.

“My apologies,” the clerk said. “Sir, I’ll need your identification and a form of payment.”

“Be back in a second.” Julia nipped toward the expansive veranda off the lobby. She cut an adorable figure. As soon as they’d touched down, she’d shed her jacket, exposing the smooth shape of her naked shoulders. She must’ve been dying in that jumpsuit, though.

He pinched his T-shirt away from his abdomen.

Unless he wanted to strut around shirtless, this was as cool as he’d get. The sticky air brushed against his skin, like he was swimming through soup. No, not soup. Spiderwebs.

“Are you in town for the music festival?” the clerk asked.

“No. Should we check it out?”