Karl Goodson is a moron.

No, calling Karl a moron was an insult to morons.

Karl was just from Oklahoma.

Granted, judging an entire state by a single person probably wasn’t fair. Even so, Oklahoma was the last state Sam ever wanted to visit.

He’d go to Kansas before he went to Oklahoma, and everybody knew how dumb Kansas was.

“Dude! I can fit a whole package of gummi worms in my mouth at once!” Karl Goodson cheered from the other side of the gate at the San Francisco airport.

The idiot Midwesterner demonstrated by pouring a whole bag of them into his mouth, strings of half-chewed candy worms flopping out of his lips as though he’d tried to eat Medusa’s head.

Sam cast a glance at the woman in the seat next to him. “Is everybody from Oklahoma like this? Or is it just him?”

Mia Davalos chuckled lightly as she watched Karl flapping his arms. “I’m pretty sure it’s just him.”

Her dark blue eyes shone like a night sky full of stars. God, she was beautiful.

Sam’s gaze shifted to the twinkling diamond on her left ring finger.

But she’s just as much a moron as Karl is.

He sat back in the stiff plastic seat and crossed his arms. “Karl’s bad enough without being on sugar high. Can we get parachutes in case we need to evacuate?”

“Sam.”

“Or even, better. What are the chances I can get the gate attendant to put him in the baggage area?”

“Sam, stop.” Mia turned to him. “Come on.”

She tilted her head, her long auburn hair falling over one shoulder.

“What?” He growled and glanced away. “You know he’s an idiot.”

“Or maybe you’re just less patient than usual?”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “I’m never patient.”

“Not with Karl.”

“And I should start now?”

“Well, we are going to be on a plane together for several hours.”

“Don’t remind me.”

A gagging sound across the corridor made several people scurry as Karl choked and clutched at his throat.

“Oh, good. Maybe he’ll die.”

Sam sank back in the seat and watched Karl flail as Mia leveled a look at him that he hadn’t seen in a while. He’d dubbed it her “big sister” look. The pursed lips. The furrowed brow. The narrowed, steely eyes.

The last time he’d seen it, Karl had used her ballet shoes as a slingshot.

The expression had made him want to kiss her.

It still did.

I should have done this trip alone.

Across the corridor, Stan Hawthorne came to the rescue, appearing from behind a magazine rack and pound on Karl’s back like he was playing bongo drums. Karl hacked and coughed and straightened with a sigh of relief and a broad grin.

“Thanks, Fish Face!” He ruffled Stan’s hair. “I was getting ready to puke.”

Stan ducked out from Karl’s offending hand. “And why did you put that whole bag in your mouth?”

“Because I could.”

Stan rolled his eyes. “Right. That’s balanced.” He reached behind the magazine rack and retrieved a steaming drink in a paper cup.

Karl pointed at it. “What is that?”

“It’s tea.” Stan sipped the drink carefully.

“Where did you get tea in an airport?”

“The same place Americans get coffee, mate.” Stan took Karl’s arm and began to usher him toward the sitting area. “Come on.”

“Dude, you are so British.”

“That is entirely true. Let’s go sit down before you try to swallow a pack of jawbreakers.”

Karl barked a laugh. “You don’t think I can?”

“I think you’ll try.” Stan patted his arm and pulled him along.

Stan dragged Karl to the far end of the seats and somehow convinced him to sit. From the gestures, it looked like he’d threatened to pour the hot tea on his crotch. Sam made a mental note. If that worked, it might come in handy later.

“Are we sure Stan isn’t older than Karl?” Sam arched an eyebrow at Mia.

Mia laughed again. “Positive.” She bit her lower lip. “Sam?”

He raised his gaze to her worried frown.

“Are you sure you’re up to this?”

He bristled. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’re not sleeping.”

“I’m fine.” Sam shook his head and reached for the briefcase leaning against his leg. He opened it and thumbed through the folders and documents inside.

“Are you worried about your presentation? And that’s why you aren’t sleeping?”

He leaned back and took a steadying breath. “Mia, you can mind your own business at any time.” He buried his face in his briefcase.

I didn’t think she’d noticed.

June was her busiest month, planning and organizing weddings at Davalos Castle. This time of year, Mia was up to her exquisite neck in tablecloths, flower arrangements, and bridal accessories. When had she taken the time to notice that he spent more hours in his office than in his room?

“So.” She kept pushing. “You’re excited, then?”

Sam looked at her. Mia leaned toward him, face shining, cheeks flushed. His nostrils flared with the scent of her perfume, rich like vanilla and smooth as peony petals.

I could tell her.

Mia genuinely cared about people in general. If she passed a beggar on the street, she’d buy them food or clothes. If she heard about someone in her church that needed help, she’d be the first one in the casserole line. She was just a good person.

He could tell her what was really going on. She could handle it. She’d handled worse, but there was nothing she could do about it.

She doesn’t need to know.

He blew out his breath. “Of course. It’s the Smithsonian.”

“I still can’t believe you submitted your abstract.” Mia folded her hands on her lap.

Sam flashed a smirk. “Why not?”

“It’s just—ambitious.”

“And that’s bad?” He let his teeth show. Because she doesn’t go for ambitious. She goes for lazy lumberjacks.

“No, Sam.” Mia rolled her eyes. “I’m just always amazed at how confident you are.”

He shrugged and went back to his briefcase. “Well, the Smithsonian is lucky. They’ll actually have at least one presenter who’s worth listening to this year.”

Mia smiled.

Why wouldn’t he have submitted his abstract? He’d worked for months, studying and researching ancient aboriginal Japanese cultures. It was a definitive work, if he said so himself. No one else had worked as hard. No one else had done as thorough an exploration. It was only fitting he be rewarded with an opportunity to present his work at the Smithsonian.

Mia could be just as good as I am if she’d try.

But no. Mia Davalos had made her choice. She’d settled for less than she was worth, and her future would suffer for it. She should have known better. He’d warned her.

Maybe he needed to remind her.

He glared at the engagement ring. It’s only an engagement. Maybe I can get her to see reason.

“Mia—”

A shadow fell across him, and he looked up into the dark eyes and furrowed brow of Dr. Robert Davalos. Famed archaeologist. Eccentric billionaire. And Mia’s generally ill-tempered grandfather.

“Have you got what you need?” Dr. Davalos grouched, nodding at Sam’s briefcase.

Sam scowled at him. “Yes.”

“Because if we get there and you’re missing notes—”

“I’ve done this presentation before, sir.”

“Not at the Smithsonian.” Dr. Davalos raised a finger. “It’s different. Political snobs and congressional scumbags. They’ll boil your insides, eat you alive, and spit you out half-chewed.”

Sam kept his expression neutral. “Inspiring.”

“Don’t talk back to me, boy.” Dr. Davalos took the seat on Sam’s other side.

Sam shut his briefcase with a snap. “I have everything I need.”

“You’d better.” He crossed his arms and huffed. “Remember, it’s not just your own self you’ll be representing when you take that stage.”

“Right, Doc, I get it. Geez.”

The gate attendant in a navy suit jacket appeared behind the desk at the front of the gate, sorting through papers and tapping on a computer keyboard. Finally. If they could just get on the plane, Sam could get some peace and quiet.

If he could catch a nap during the flight, he might be less tempted to stab Karl when they landed.

Dr. Davalos rubbed a gnarled hand over his bald head. “Once we get to DC, we’ll get settled in our hotel, and then we’ll get you down to the Hilton.”

Sam blinked and regarded him with a scowl. “You’re not staying at the conference hotel?”

Dr. Davalos arched his salt-and-pepper eyebrows and cast a glance at the end of the row of seats where Karl and Stan had moved on to a game of charades. At the moment, Karl seemed to be mimicking a baboon having a seizure.

“You think I want that at the Hilton?” Dr. Davalos gestured with his thumb.

“Grandpa.” Mia leaned forward to glare at him.

“The boy’s a menace, Mia.” Dr. Davalos jutted out his jaw. “Great with landscaping. But he’s got no social skills. At all. I’m not taking him to a $500-a-night hotel so he can pick the mini-fridge clean and eat the flower arrangements.”

Sam snickered.

At least one other person in the household recognized Karl as the Neanderthal he was.

“That’s not the reason you don’t want to stay at the conference hotel.” Mia gathered her things in her carry-on bag. “Don’t be mean.”

Dr. Davalos scoffed. “Fine. I’m not spending $500 for a night with a cohort of snot-nosed paleontologists and political-minded bigots. It’s bad enough I’ve got to sit in a room full of them for two hours. There’s a reason I avoid these things.”

“Exactly, Grandpa.” Mia smiled sweetly. “They don’t like you either.”

Sam bit back a laugh.

Dr. Davalos hadn’t made a point of ingratiating himself to anyone in the archaeological communities of the world, at home or abroad. He did things his own way. He supported the digs he believed in. Anyone was free to disagree with him, but the minute they tried to change his mind, he’d throw them out of his office with a furious flash of Greek temper.

“Don’t blame Karl because you can’t get along with people.” Mia stood and shouldered her bag. “If you don’t like spending time with him, you shouldn’t have invited him.”

Dr. Davalos snorted and glanced down the row at Karl and Stan. “Surprised he said yes, actually.” His tone softened. “Didn’t think he’d care about seeing Washington, DC.”

“No kidding,” Sam said. “He slept through every political science class and history class in school.”

The only class Karl had ever cared about was shop. So his excitement to tag along on this trip had been unexpected to say the least.

“At least he graduated.” Dr. Davalos scrubbed his hand over his face. “One less diploma to worry about. Besides, who knows? Maybe he’ll learn something in our nation’s Capital.”

Karl released an ear-shattering belch and pounded on his chest while Stan hid his face.

“Or maybe he’ll get shot.” Sam shrugged.

“We can only hope.” Dr. Davalos nodded sagely.

Mia groaned.

“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen.” The gate attendant at the desk spoke into a PA system that turned her voice mostly robotic and partially unintelligible. “Flight 2063 from San Francisco to Baltimore will now begin the boarding process.”

Karl threw his arms in the air and hopped from one foot to the other. “We’re going on vacation!”

A smattering of laughter chorused around the gate as people watched the dumb farm kid jig like a clumsy highlander. Stan kept hiding.

If Stan would stop hanging out with the idiot, he wouldn’t spend half his time being humiliated.

Karl tagging along was the worst idea in a long line of really horrible ideas, but at least he wouldn’t be at the conference hotel. If nothing else, Stan would probably keep him from causing any lasting damage. Having Mia along wouldn’t be so bad, especially at the reception following his presentation. Having her on his arm definitely wouldn’t hurt his chances of catching the right kind of attention.

The gate attendant called their section number.

Sam stood and drew his briefcase strap over his shoulder. Karl dragged Stan into line in front of him and stood bouncing on the balls of his feet, humming an off-key tune that sounded like a mash-up of seven different superhero themes.

If I survive this flight, I might start believing in miracles.

Karl paused and looked over his shoulder. “Hey, Lurch?”

Sam glared at him. “Don’t call me that.”

“Right.” Karl laughed. “Dr. Lurch.”

I’m going to kill him.

“I got a question.”

“What?” Sam clenched his teeth.

“Like, all the states have capital cities, right? So what’s the capital of Washington, DC?” Karl wrinkled his nose. “You should know, right? Because you’re from there.”

The line moved forward, but Karl remained in place, staring up at him with raised eyebrows.

“Karl?”

“Yeah?”

“Get on the plane.”

Karl noticed the line had moved and yelped, leaping forward and pulling Stan along with him. Sam sighed and followed, a pounding headache rising in his temples.

Maybe when the plane flies over Oklahoma, I’ll push him out.

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