Page 70 of Better than Famous

I craned my neck as we drove by. "I might have to book one of those for our next vacation."

"Not a chance." Ben parked the truck near a cluster of sea grapes by an old stone jetty and killed the engine. "They’re booked solid for like the next year."

We continued down the road as it transitioned from asphalt to dirt. The manicured resort grounds transitioned to a more natural setting, and Ben parked in a lot next to several other vehicles. As we exited the truck, he took my hand and led me onto a sand path that flanked a sprawling one-story house. The sound of waves grew louder until we emerged onto the beach. A glowing bonfire crackled on the sand. Sparks floated upward, dancing against the darkening twilight.

The scene around the flames was wonderfully, unapologetically chaotic. A young boy raced along the shoreline wielding a long piece of driftwood like a sword. Two portable playpens sat on the sand, containing two babbling toddlers. The rest of the Coleridge siblings stood in a loose circle around the fire, actively arguing over the proper technique for roasting hot dogs.

Ben nudged my shoulder. "Ready for the madness?"

I grinned, looking forward to the event. "Absolutely. Let’s go."

We navigated down the sandy embankment together. Ben kept my hand firmly in his grasp. The banter around the fire ceased the moment our feet hit the beach. A split second of silence stretched over the group.

Brenna bridged the gap instantly. Abandoning her spot near a giant cooler, she marched across the sand with a bright, welcoming smile. She wrapped her arms around my shoulders in a fierce, unpretentious hug. "I knew you’d come back. The leggings worked their magic."

A laugh escaped my throat. "They were definitely a tactical advantage. Thank you."

A woman with brown hair and a warm smile stepped up next, introducing herself as Harper. The resort manager handed me a cold, sweating aluminum can of beer. "Welcome to the family. Braden brought the good stuff. Key Kölsch. Drink it fast before the humidity ruins it."

"Thank you."

I took the cold beer, and the ice cracked entirely. Helen Coleridge stepped forward, her silvery light-brown hair catching the firelight. The matriarch of the family offered a quiet, graceful embrace, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "So nice to meet you. Ben hasn’t been himself without you, Sutton. We’re very glad you returned."

"Mom," Ben grumbled, though a flush darkened his neck.

Next I met Austin and his girlfriend Iris. Blonde with bright blue eyes, she wiped her hands frantically on her denim shorts. “Sutton Vale! As I live and breathe. I can’t believe I’m actually standing right here with you.”

I shrugged and gave her a reassuring smile, used to this reaction. “Very nice to meet you, Iris. Don’t worry—you’ll get over it as soon as I trip over my own feet, which I usually do at the worst possible moment.”

Iris gave me a level stare. "I doubt that. Girl, I’ve seen you dance on stage.” Then her eyes flew open wide and she clapped both hands to her cheeks. “Oh, butter my biscuit! I am sweating like a sinner in church just looking at you. You’re even prettier in person."

A loud laugh bubbled from my lungs. "It’s the humidity. It hides a multitude of sins."

Iris thrust a large, plastic Tupperware container toward my chest. "I brought marshmallows. Homemade. They are infused with bourbon and rolled in toasted coconut. Store-bought just felt entirely disrespectful to a Grammy winner."

As I accepted the container, the sweet, boozy scent wafted through the plastic lid. "Iris, I am absolutely desperate for a bourbon marshmallow. These look incredible."

The tension evaporated as the Coleridge clan absorbed me into their chaotic orbit with seamless ease. Braden passed out more beers, joking about the sudden influx of paparazzi on his quiet island. Austin tended the fire, keeping the flames stoked while tossing an occasional dry remark into the conversation. Taking a seat on a smooth piece of driftwood, I balanced a paper plate containing a charred hot dog and several golden marshmallows on my knees. Ben settled close beside me, his thigh pressed reassuringly against mine.

"So," Chase spoke up from a beach chair, gesturing with his beer bottle. "We have to ask. How does a global pop star actually rate Dove Key? You’ve toured the world. We have a broken drawbridge and mosquitoes the size of hummingbirds."

I swallowed a bite of the hot dog, considering the faces watching me. They weren’t seeking validation. They were genuinely curious.

"Honestly? I rate it a ten out of ten." I wiped a smudge of mustard from my thumb. "Los Angeles is basically a giant, air-conditioned museum. You look at everything behind glass. Down here, the air actually touches you. The dirt gets under your fingernails. Plus, your brother taught me how to operate a drip coffee maker and peel garlic with a chef’s knife. Those are marketable life skills."

Austin let out a low, approving laugh from across the fire. "Practical. I respect that."

"Just keep her away from the toaster." Ben took a sip of his beer. "It was a close call."

"I was adjusting to a new environment." I bumped my shoulder against his. "And I hauled my fair share of storm debris. I practically earned an honorary landscaping badge."

Eating charred hot dogs off paper plates while sitting on a piece of driftwood was a culinary masterpiece compared to the curated catered meals of my past. The salt air mixed with the woodsmoke. Finn eventually abandoned his driftwood sword to demand a s’more, leading to a messy, sticky negotiation with Harper over bedtime.

The stars emerged in a brilliant canopy untouched by city lights.

Eli wandered over to a battered black case leaning against a cooler. He unlatched the top and pulled out a beat-up acoustic guitar. The wood was scratched, the pickguard worn thin from years of aggressive strumming.

"All right, gather round," Eli announced, propping his foot on a log and resting the guitar on his knee. "I only know three chords. Somebody better pay me twenty bucks right now, or I’m going to play “Wonderwall” for the next hour."