We stepped onto Miami Beach’s pristine sand, and the warm sun practically wrapped me in a hug. I felt alive, finally! This was exactly what I had pictured when I dreamed up the idea of dragging Mr. Thorne to Miami in the first place. I looked around, letting the vibrant colors and lively atmosphere wash over me.
Mr. Thorne, though, looked like he would rather be in a boardroom, surrounded by spreadsheets and conference calls. His gaze swept across the beach, and his face twisted somewhere between discomfort and pure disdain. He adjusted his collar, looking like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself. I nearly laughed out loud.
“Relax, Mr. Thorne,” I said, grinning at him. “It’s just sand and sun.”
“I am relaxed,” he replied, his voice tight enough to snap. The way his eyes flick
