Page 25 of On Cloud Nine

We receive a calendar of activities—all optional except for the scheduled inclusive mealtimes. I scan the list. Yearning Yoga, Seductive Stargazing, Passionate Pottery, and Couples Groundwork.

Interesting. Honestly, I won’t complain if Molly has to put on one of the workout sets she occasionally wears to the office.

I roll my shoulders.

Molly walks ahead of me, a small bead of sweat rolling down her neck. One of her tightly spun curls clings to her skin. The lone strand drags down her nape. She looks back at me, peering over her sunglasses and giving me a smile. My mouth goes as dry as the desert we’re standing in.

She’s really easy on the eyes.

* * *

“Hello, Molly and Matthew,”a hostess coos, welcoming us into the resort’s main restaurant. “Your table is this way.”

Apparently, we arrived just in time for the seven-o’clock dinner. Lolita didn’t give us an opportunity to go to our room and change. My shirt is clinging to my body from the walk around the grounds. Molly, however, still looks polished. The pink fabric of her blouse hugs her curves, and she put a small ribbon into her hair, pulling her long curls away from her face.

Damn. My fingers tingle.

Through the windows are stunning views of the dusky desert mountains. The restaurant’s open kitchen has chefs at work. We’re weaving through guests enjoying their meals when Molly stops walking. Her body turns to stone.

I spot a woman with familiar copper hair. She’s sitting with her back to us, at a table I assume is ours. “Is that your mom?”

“What is she doing here?” Molly faces me as she whispers. “I—I swear I had no idea she was going to be here.”

“Don’t worry,” I assure her. “We can do this.”

Vivian must just be checking to make sure we arrived safely. I’m certain most parents call, but when you have several jets, why not see for yourself…right?

Molly brushes her hands over her clothes. Worry creases her face as we approach the table.

“Ah, there you are.” Vivian looks down at her watch. “Five minutes past seven.”

I guess the schedules here are strict.

“M-mother.” Molly stumbles through the word, disbelief still heavy in her voice. “What are you doing here?”

I pull out a chair on the opposite side of the table, extending my hand to help Molly into her seat. Vivian’s hawkish gaze sears into me like I’m performing in a one-man show calledAwkward Interactions with Potential In-Laws.

“Hello, Mrs. Greene. I didn’t realize you were joining us.” I try to hack at the thick tension.

“Please, call me Vivian. Mrs. Greene was Ray’s mother.” She reaches forward and adjusts her glass on the table. “Doll, what are you wearing?”

Molly’s rehearsed smile falters. “I just threw this on,” she explains. “We haven’t had a chance to change.”

“Well, not to worry. I made sure to bring a perfectly curated wardrobe with me. Something with a bit moreclass,” Vivian adds.

What’s wrong with Molly’s clothes?

“Thank you,” Molly utters through tight lips. “Will you be here long? I didn’t realize you planned to attend the course with us.”

“I was shocked when I heard from Paul that you booked the jet, so I had to see your arrival for myself. I didn’t think you’d go through with this—or that you wouldn’t consult your own mother before telling Lance that the engagement was off.”

“I told you last weekend.”

“Yes, but we thought whatever’s gotten into you would have blown over by now.” Vivian tilts her nose up.

I’m so out of my comfort zone and unsure how to handle this stare-off between them.

“We’re thrilled to be here,” I say. “Your jet is very nice.”

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