Page 9 of Unwrapping Spring Break

We’re pathetic, the both of us.

There’s only an hour left before the first business meeting. I tell Jax I want to nap a little to eliminate the jet lag. All he does is nod. I roll my eyes and leave him with his nonalcoholic drink, heading back to the room.

As soon as I unlock the door and step in, my phone rings. I suppress a growl of frustration when I see the caller ID but answer anyway. “Hi, Mother.”

“Lily, darling!” Seriously, Mother sounds like she’s straight out of the nineteenth century. “How was your flight? Is it beautiful there? It must be lovely.”

I kick my shoes into the corner next to the bed I’d claimed and sit down. “It was fine, and yes. It is beautiful.” If I don’t keep talking, she’ll monopolize the conversation, and I’ll lose control over it. Unfortunately, I hesitate before continuing.

“Tell me about your room.” I hear the click of her fancy lighter. Mother loves her cigarettes. “Your father wouldn’t tell me what hotel it is—said he didn’t know, but he always does.”

He probably didn’t tell her because she has a nasty tendency to invite herself. A flicker of panic forms in my chest at the idea of Mother flying down here. Her excuse would probably be something to the tune ofI have to have the whole Bahamian experience, or something equally stupid and unbelievable. Her presence is the last thing I want to deal with. Telling her I’m sharing a room with Jax will guarantee she’s on the next flight down. Nope, that cannot happen.

“Well, you know,” I begin, then plow forward as I should have from the beginning, “I didn’t get a chance to tell you how great the opening was. Did I see the mayor talking to Dad?”

“Oh, that man doesn’t know a cigar from a stick.” I can practically hear Mother’s eye roll as she laughs. “But I’m glad you enjoyed yourself. You didn’t say goodbye, though. Still, it was probably the event of the season. In the summer, I’ll have to put in twice the work to outdo myself.”

I’m sure she’s already planning the next event. “It’ll be fine, Mother. And I can help you when I get back.”

If I throw her a bone like that, she’ll gnaw on it for years. Do I want to help her plan a party? Not for a million dollars, but it’s better than giving her the wiggle room to ask questions I don’t want to answer.

“Oh, Lily, I would love that!” She squeals. “It’ll be just like old times. You are such a dear for thinking of your poor mother.”

My salvation comes from my dad’s voice in the background. “Well, that’s your father. I’d better go before he starts shouting that he’s starving to death. Love you, darling. Have a wonderful time!” She air-kisses the phone. Yep, my mother does that. It never fails to crack me up.

“Bye, Mother. Give Dad my love.” Stifling a giggle, I hang up and flop back onto the bed.

As I lie there, thoughts about my narrow escape flood my brain, and remorse sits heavy in my gut. I don’t usually manipulate my mother. Ineverdo. There’s never been a time when I’ve hidden anything entirely from her. But if she finds out, the dramatic performance she’ll put on won’t be about Jax. It will be about her daughter not trusting her enough to tell the truth. Sorry, Mother, I just can’t deal with your meddling right now.

Besides, what do I have to feel guilty about? I’m a grown woman and can make my own decisions. I don’t need her permission or her approval. The reassurance of that sinks in, and the realization lulls me into a nap.

The sound of the door opening wakes me. I glance up to see Jax entering the room. Bleary-eyed, I look at the clock on my phone. It’s only been thirty minutes, and I groan. I was hoping for more than thirty minutes, but honestly, there’s not much time left to prepare for the meeting.

I sit up and notice Jax staring at me. I raise my brow in question. Did he forget I was coming back to rest? He’s looking at me like I have something on my face. Did he forget I was here at all?

He clutches some clothes from his suitcase before ducking into the bathroom to change. Oops. I’m notthatself-centered as to think Jax’s world revolves around me. I’m unsure what to think, between our kiss and his reaction to the condoms. He just confuses me more.

Taking advantage of the moment, I freshen up for the meeting. A few minutes later, Jax emerges from the bathroom, looking professional and overdressed for the Bahamas.

The hotel phone rings, and Jax presses the phone to his ear. He mumbles his thanks and turns to me. “The car is waiting for us downstairs.”

I grab my purse from the chair. “Let’s go.”

We arrive at the plantation where the tobacco is grown for the cigars. The smell of fresh tobacco is unique but not entirely unpleasant. It’s been a while since I’ve been to a grower, so I inhale the scent and let it engulf me. Two African American men with deep brown complexions emerge from a plaster island house to greet us.

“Mr. Griffin.” The older of the two gentlemen gives Jax a big smile, revealing a gap between his front teeth as they shake hands. “Welcome to our plantation.” The man’s Bahamian accent is thick. It would be cliché if he were putting it on. I can’t help but wonder if he’s playing it up to impress us.

“Mr. Rolle.” Jax gives both men a nod. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Then he turns to gesture to me. “May I introduce Lily Summers?”

“Hello,” I say, giving them my best professional smile.

“Charmed, my lady.” Mr. Rolle’s nostrils flare, and his smile isn’t quite as broad for me as it had been for Jax. He doesn’t reach for my hand as he did for Jax. The other man ignores us altogether. But what makes my brow lift is the knowing look he gives Jax. “Shall we begin the tour?”

What. The. Hell.

My lips part in astonishment as I’m dismissed. Don’t they recognize my last name? They must know I’m somehow related to Jax’s partner. Who do they think I am? Jax’s arm candy? Fuck no. There will be harsh words exchanged if that’s true. I press my lips together, set my jaw into a stubborn line, and fall into step next to Jax. Not behind him. Next to him. As equals. At least he doesn’t play into it by holding his arm out for me, expecting me to latch on like some damsel.

Thankfully, my temper simmers as the two men show us around the plantation. The knowledge of my father’s business kicks into gear as I examine tobacco in its various stages. The crop looks healthy, and I don’t see a single piece of evidence indicating pesticide use. Dad prefers purity in the product he sells. My mind switches to information my dad wants to know, and I forget all about the chauvinism the two men hinted at earlier.

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