“No offense taken. I could say the same,” he said, and then he rose from his chair like it was the 1950s and he was at a country club cotillion or something.
Why did he feel so unsettled around this woman?
“I work here,” she said, brow furrowing. “Isn’t that obvious?”
Molly waved a hand, indicating her fish tail, the pearls draped around her neck, and her clamshell bustier. Max felt like there was suddenly no place safe to look, so he dropped his gaze to the floor. That’s when he noticed Ursula, sitting politely at Molly’s feet, dressed in a bright-red lobster costume. Plush claws stuck out from her tiny shoulders and a hat with wobbly antennae eyes sat at a jaunty angle on the spaniel’s head.
“So you’re Henry’s nephew…our new director?” Molly asked, dragging his attention away from Ursula’s get-up.
“Yes.” Max hiked a thumb in the direction of the lobby. “I’m guessing you’re the reason for Poseidon’s throne out there?”
“Actually, we call it the mermaid grotto.” Molly gave him a lopsided smile. “But, yes.”
Warmth flooded Max’s chest. She had a lovely smile. He hadn’t had much of a chance to see it on the beach while he’d been retching up salt water and sand.
The woman had saved his life, which was going to make what came next all the more awkward.
“Mermaid grotto.” Max shook his head. “Cute, but…”
“But?” Molly’s pretty smile froze in place.
“But why does the aquarium need a mermaid? It’s scientifically insignificant.” Max crossed his arms and cut his gaze toward Ursula. “And while we’re on the subject of marine authenticity, why is your dog here?”
Max didn’t want to be the bad guy, but come on. Nothing about this scenario made sense.
Molly’s eyebrows drew together and she was suddenly looking at him as ifhewas the crazy one. Perhaps he should have shown up for his first day on the job dressed as Captain Jack Sparrow.
“You mean my lobster,” she said flatly.
Ursula woofed.
Max’s temples throbbed. Going over the numbers had been enough to give him a raging migraine, and now here he was, arguing about semantics with a mermaid and her Cavalier King Charles spaniel.
He gritted his teeth. “No, I mean your dog.”
Ursula wagged her tail, clearly pleased to be the center of attention. She darted toward Max, but Molly scurried after her in quick mermaid-sized steps and scooped the lobster into her arms.
Thepuppy, not the lobster.Max massaged his temples and prayed there was a bottle of ibuprofen rattling around somewhere in Uncle Henry’s desk.
“What do you have against dogs?” Molly said, looking him up and down. If he’d been an actual volleyball, the expression on her face would have deflated him in an instant.
“Nothing. I’m just trying to figure out why there’s one in my aquarium.” He felt himself frown. “It’s like they’re taking over the town.”
“Maybe because people love dogs.” Molly lifted her chin. “But in this particular instance, it’s an emotional support animal type of situation.”
Max glanced at Ursula and back at Molly. They made an awfully cute pair, despite having zero basis in science. Or reality as a whole. “This puppy is your emotional support animal?”
“Not exactly. More the opposite, really.” Molly cleared her throat. “I’m her emotional support human.”
Max closed his eyes and sighed.Emotional support human?It was the last straw. Nothing on this island made a lick of sense.
Molly kept on talking, seemingly oblivious to Max’s existential crisis. “She has separation anxiety. Your uncle suggested I start bringing her to work with me, and it’s worked out great. The tourists just love her, especially the kids.”
Max opened his eyes. This entire conversation would have been so much easier if the puppy weren’t so damned adorable, not to mention the mermaid. “But this is an aquarium. Tourists come here to see marine life, not dogs.”
“That’s why she’s dressed as a lobster.” Molly tapped one of Ursula’s antennae with the tip of her finger. It bobbed in front of Ursula’s face and she snapped at it with her tiny teeth.
Max sank into his chair and forced himself to focus on the papers spread all over the desk—and the stack of bills waiting to be paid. So. Many. Bills. “I’m sorry, Molly. But things are about to change. My uncle has a heart of gold and he’s built an amazing thing here, but as is, it’s just not sustainable.”