Jack Harper's mind was a whirlwind as he made his way back to the resort, Sandy's words echoing in his ears. She was right, of course. His trip to Sunset Cove was a dangerous distraction, a temporary reprieve from the life he'd built. And yet, he'd be lying if he said the outlook wasn't tempting. The ocean breeze continued to tousle his meticulously styled hair, carrying with it the scent of coconut sunscreen and grilled seafood. Normally such dishevelment would be unacceptable, but here, in this laid-back paradise, it almost felt... liberating. He glanced at his watch. 7:15 PM. His friends and colleagues back in New York would still be hunkered down in their offices, buried under mountains of paperwork and client files. There was a strange sense of relief knowing he wasn't among them, but the guilt was strong too. Jack had worked too hard to climb the corporate ladder, and he wasn't about to let a little R&R toss him off course. As he entered the resort's lobby, a series of chimes filled the air, followed by a woman's voice over the intercom. "Attention all guests, this is your daily reminder thatLei Day celebrations will be taking place tomorrow. We invite you to join us on the main stage for music, dancing, and traditional Hawaiian activities." Jack paused, realizing he had absolutely no idea what Lei Day was. He made a mental note to Google it later and continued to his room. Inside, the bland corporate interior greeted him like an old friend. The familiar scent of hotel shampoo and artificial air conditioning replaced the salt and sunscreen. Jack undid his tie, shrugging out of his suit jacket and tossing both onto the bed. He popped open the minifridge, grabbing a diet soda and downing half of it in one gulp. *Right. Sinclair. The reason he was here.* He settled onto the stiff chair and opened his laptop, the cool white light illuminating his face. Emails awaited, both from clients expecting updates and from his team needing guidance. Jack's fingers hovered over the keys, hesitating. He glanced out the window. The last of the sun's rays painted the sky in brilliant oranges and pinks, reflecting off the ocean's surface. A group of children hurried past his room, their laughter spilling into the hall as they chased each other. *Just a few minutes.* Jack closed his laptop, setting it aside. He kicked off his shoes and slid open the patio door, stepping out onto the small balcony. The salty air filled his lungs, and the sound of waves crashed against the shore. He ran a hand through his hair, feeling the breeze tug at his strands. For a moment, he allowed himself to get lost in the view, to imagine what life would be like if he embraced the slower pace, traded his briefcase for a surfboard. *Enough.* Jack closed his eyes and shook his head. He knew perfectly well what that life looked like – warm but meaningless, full of breathtaking sunsets but devoid of real purpose. No, he had a plan, a trajectory, and he couldn't let a pretty bartender and half a scotch lure him off course. He returned to his laptop and opened his emails, determined to get a few hours of solid work done before calling it a night. Marcus was counting on him, and he wouldn't let his friend down. But as he read the first email, his mind drifted again, to Sandy's infectious laughter, her easy confidence, how incredible her eyes looked in the dying light. Jack's fingers hesitated over the keyboard. *Damn it all to hell.* Jack slammed the laptop shut and stood, pacing to the balcony once more. He needed to get ahold of himself. He was Jack Harper, king of the high-rise, maître of the excel sheet. He conqueror of meetings and ruler of late nights. He did not get worked up over a bartender, no matter how enticing her smile. Jack took a deep breath, filling his lungs with salty air, the effect immediate. He felt calm, centered. *That's it. Stick to the plan. Work, then sin. In that order.* With renewed determination, Jack closed the patio door and returned to his desk. The emails awaiting his attention beckoned like a siren song, and he dove in, attacking the inbox with his usual pent-up fervor. The minutes ticked by in a blur, and he soon found himself so engrossed in spreadsheet analysis that he entirely forgot about Sandy and Sunset Cove. At 11 pm sharp, Jack finally looked up from his laptop, blinking in the sudden brightness. His shoulders were tight, his eyes strained, but a sense of accomplishment filled him. He was back on track, back to playing the game he excelled at. *There. All better.* Jack stretched, his muscles protesting the unfamiliar stillness. He glanced at his watch, and then out to the dark ocean. Again, the realization hit him – he'd morally just wasted hours of his vacation on work. *But it was worth it. Needed.* He thought of the decades-upon-decades of wealth, of the power, of the status. He thought of the holidays, the cars, the penthouse, the adoring family and staunchly loyal staff. All of that would be his, the ultimate trophy for a life of single-minded devotion to a single cause. And here, in this paradise, where the distractions were far too tempting, he was losing sight of that goal. Jack packed up his laptop and prepared for bed, his resolve renewed. Tomorrow would be better. He'd embrace the getaway, the vacation, but he'd do so on his own terms, a Spartan forgetting what it means to fornicate while on soldier's day. *Admire. Laugh. Surf if he must. But the job comes first.* And that's exactly what he'd do, even if it meant walking away from a pretty bartender and a possible tropical fling. *This was just a distraction. A blip. And he was over it.* As the support erected, the miles clicked away, and he closed in on the final town he'd prepared for, Turtle Bay. His legs cramped, his lungs strained, and yet he pushed forward. Turtle Bay was the last stop, the apex, the one with the most luxurious accommodations he'd seen. Perched on a cliff overlooking the ocean, it was made up of stunningly beautiful suites with floor-to-ceiling glass, patios, and infinity pools. He aimed for it, leaving all distractions, all thoughts of Sandy, buried behind him. At the entrance to the development, he'd eat breakfast, take a quick shower, and gear up for the marathon's final miles through town. With any luck, he'd finish this town, collect his medal, and walk away with his head held high and his focus on the successes to come. *The life he wanted waited, and it was so close he could almost taste it.* As the sun peeked through the blinds, it lit up Jack's room with soft hues of gold, blue, and pink. Stretching out from his bed, he sat up, and looked at his watch -6:30 a.m. He rubbed his eyes and yawned, enjoying the last few seconds of his rest before the day began. Running to the west wing, he prepared for the workday that lay ahead, checking his schedule and anticipating all the pain and trouble that were sure to find him. But as he stood outside his door, he realized he was missing his TCC half marathon number. Running back to his hotel room, he ransacked it looking for it - under the bed, hanging upside down, all over. He was panicking, knowing he had to find it for the marathon. Running to the Turtle Bay area of town, he punched every door looking for it. The one time he got to the marathon startline, he realized he forgot his number before the race even started. Frantically searching, he finally found his number by running back home, waiting for another aid station at Vegas, then hopping in his car at a gas station to travel back to his hotel room to get a necklace and finally reach Turtle Bay. His stomach was full of food from the all-you-can-eat waffle bar, he had his TCC half marathon number, and he was ready to complete the 13.1 mile course. Plus, he was anxious to see that pretty bartender again. Jack stood at the starting line of the TCC Half Marathon, surrounded by hundreds of runners who were preparing to embark on the 13.1 mile journey. The air was thick with anticipation and the scent of sweat and adrenaline, as a steady breeze from the ocean blew across the course. As he waited for the start gun to sound, his gaze was drawn to the spectators lining the street. And there, in the middle of the crowd, was Sandy. She wore her signature smile and a bright green TCC race shirt, cheering on the participants. *Coincidence?* Jack couldn't help but grin at the sight. Maybe it wasn't so crazy to think their paths would cross again. The starting gun fired, jolting Jack out of his thoughts. The runners jostled forward, heading down the Ocean Avenue path toward the residential area. As Jack ran, his body soon became a whirring machine, ignoring his fatigue. His lungs heaved in tandem with his steps, and his pulse pounded in his ears. Sweat poured down his face, and his muscles screamed for mercy, but he pushed on. He reached the halfway point in good time. As he crested the hill on Eden Way, he spotted an aid tent. Jack picked up his pace, a new wave of energy flooding through him at the sight of Sandy holding a bottle of water. "Looking a bit parched there, Mr. Harper," she called out as he approached. Her eyes sparkled with mischief. Jack slowed to a stop, accepting the water gratefully. He cracked it open, letting the cool liquid slide down his throat. "I think I've found the secret to spiritually cleansing myself of the evils of the corporate world." "You beat yourself up, too?" Sandy laughed. "Only when I'm running away from my problems." "Sounds like you've got the formula down." She jerked her head toward the road ahead. "Now get going. Slowpokes aren't tolerated on this route." "Am I being timed?" "Nah, just figured you'd need to pick up the pace if you want to make it back for your late night conference call." Jack feigned shock. "You've been stalking my calendar?" Sandy smirked. "You're not the only one with connections. Now go on, seventy-two mile, forty-five. You've got work to do." She gave him a playful shove, sending him stumbling back into the endless stream of runners. As he ran, Jack's mind raced. *Sandy being there at the halfway point, knew his pace and his work habits?* The whole thing felt a lot like the maremoto kerfuffle in the Galapagos all over again. He shook his head, refusing to buy into admiral's theory. *Coincidence.* Still, he picked up his pace, the adrenaline of the run merging with an unexpected sense of excitement. He had no idea what the rest of the race, or his brief stay in Sunset Cove, had in store for him. But one thing was for certain: it's not every day you have a bartender with flexible scheduling, forgiving humor, and a remarkably keen eye for detail following your journey through paradise.