I shoved the memory aside and focused on the wet sand under my shoes as we walked toward the beach. Palm fronds blocked the view of the pool and the buzzing crowd as teams continued to compete.
“You lost your first match,” my grandfather said, leaning one hand against a palm tree. “Keep it up, and you’ll wave goodbye to your winning streak. You still have a long way to go to catch up to Matt’s record.”
My jaw flexed. “We’re still in it. It was one challenge.”
“If you were less distracted by your rivalry with that Sunbelt girl—” His frown deepened. “I don’t know what it is with you two.”
“Her name is Valerie.”
He cut me a sidelong glance, disapproval shadowing his face. But he should know her name and show some respect. That rivalry was the only reason I showed up to the office most days. Valerie’s expectations of me were low, and that was… refreshing. If she had the nerve to look at me with worship in her eyes, I’d probably quit on the spot.
“The board will be watching you at the luau tonight. They’ll want to see leadership, not a spectacle.”
“Right.” I slung the towel over my shoulder, letting the word hang between us. Then I forced a grin. “I’ll be on my best behavior. I’ll even wear my finest Hawaiian shirt—flamingos in Santa hats and palm trees.”
“You’ll wear a suit. There will be one waiting in your hut.”
He checked his watch. I looked back toward the water, my thumb finding the gold signet ring I’d worn ever since taking Matt’s spot inside the company. It never quite fit. The irony wasn’t lost on me, but it felt wrong to have it resized.
Waves rolled in, licking the shoreline. We were in paradise, a month out from our busiest season. Christmas was the only time of the year when I felt real magic. Not just the kind we wielded, but the kind in the air that promised hope and laughter. But what if that all changed?
This time next year, I’d be in charge of an entire division, along with an experimental team that would either be my legacyor my downfall.
I could charm my way out of a gift bag, schmooze donors blind, even magically MacGyver my way through a miracle or two… but building a legacy?
I barely knew where to start.
I was almost thirty, looking back at a life that blurred from one wild indiscretion to the next. If it had been me instead of Matt, my memory would’ve been nothing more than a sad, empty stocking hung on the mantle every Christmas. My family would shake their heads, murmur about wasted potential, and pack me away in the attic with the rest of the holiday decorations.
No substance. No mark left behind. Just a cautionary tale of the guy who’d been a good time at parties.
But knowing I wanted to change and become a leader everyone respected didn't suddenly give me all the answers. We were in the miracle business, and even I knew I was a tough case. Just ask Valerie Spellman.
My grandfather cleared his throat and straightened the front of his button-down shirt. The man was all business, even in the tropics.
“Show up early to greet the board,” he said.
I nodded as he ducked under a palm frond and headed back to the pool. The competition was nearly over for the day. In a few minutes, he’d be up there reviewing scores and announcing tomorrow’s challenge. People listened when he spoke. They always had.
Everyone saw a man who carried the weight of the agency like a mantle of honor. The Delaneys had always doled out tough love draped in tinsel. When I was younger, I used to joke that he had to be Santa’s hard-as-nails boss. How else do you think all thosepresents got delivered in one night?
I dragged a hand through my hair and scowled. He might be tough… but seriously—
Who wears a suit to a luau?
***
A few hours later, I knocked on Valerie’s hut. With HR breathing down my neck and all eyes on me, I couldn’t risk showing up to the party without my theoretical ball and chain.
The door swung open; the wreath jingling as she filled the doorway. Her gaze skimmed my suit, suspicion flickering across her face as she blurted out the exact same question I’d asked myself on the beach.
The answer: no one. Suits were for funerals and weddings, and my best Hawaiian shirt was hanging unloved in the closet for the moths to enjoy.
But while I was dressed for a wake, Valerie looked ready to raise the dead.
Tiki torchlight bathed her skin, dark curls spilling over her tanned shoulders. Her dress was tropical print meets temptation, halter-tied and backless. Twin gold hearts dangled from her ears; the only jewelry she ever wore. Typical Valerie. Once she found the perfect pair, she never bothered with anything else.
Must be nice. Even her ears had soulmates.
