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CHAPTERONE
Emily
“Unbelievable,”I mutter to myself.
I should have known there was an ulterior motive when my mom suggested this mother-daughter vacation.She claimed she was worried about me working so much and wanted me to take some time off with her. That alone should’ve tipped me off because my mother has always been too wrapped up in her latest flavor of the month to spend time with her daughter.
Disappointment stabs at me. I hoped this time would be different.
As What's-His-Name comes striding over to Mom with a big shit-eating grin on his face, I realize I've been duped once again. This was all orchestrated so my mom and her latest boy-toy could have a getaway on her daughter’s dime.
My mom doesn't have much time to work between flirting with every man in sight. She was only profitable when she had a sugar daddy, but he caught her messing around with the pool boy, so there went that.
Does it sound like I'm calling my mother a slut? Because yeah, she is. I’m not shaming her or judging her. I’m just stating facts.
I watch as Mom and her boyfriend put on a small production of pretending they happened to run into each other and isn't this such a weird coincidence? They won't be winning any Oscars for their performances, but I’ll give them an A for effort.
And here comes the good part. The dude mentions he doesn't have a room booked yet and looks sad when he adds, “They were all booked up.”
Mom turns puppy dog eyes to me as she speaks to her boyfriend. “Well, you can stay with us! Right, honey?”
I paste a falsely bright smile on my face and reply as expected. “Of course!”
I booked a two-bedroom, but I'm not looking forward to the sounds of this dude fucking my mom non-stop because I know that's what’s in the cards.
Mom is flushed, and he's getting handsy, grabbing her hips to pull her closer to him.
I purse my lips in irritation and head toward the cabin. I hear Mom and her boy-toy trailing along behind me.
I booked two weeks off to essentially be my mother's madam and set her up in a room where she can fuck the shit out of this guy.
He's murmuring to her, something I can’t hear, and then she giggles—giggles—like a high school girl.
I have to fight to keep from rolling my eyes. What grown woman giggles? My forty-year-old mother, that’s who.
When we reach the cabin, my mood sours further when I see the cabin has a queen bed and a room with two twin beds. It’s technically two bedrooms, but it’s meant for a family with kids.
My mother and her boy-toy take the master suite with the queen bed, so I'm stuck sleeping on a twin bed in the kids’ suite. Not that I give a shit where I sleep, but it's the principle. I'm footing the bill for this trip, yet they plop their asses in the master suite without asking me if it's okay.
I wheel my suitcase into the room and fall onto the bed with a scowl when more of my mother's ridiculous giggling floats through the walls from the master suite. But it gets worse when the lusty moaning starts.
I grab a pillow and press it over my ears, but it does no good. I can still hear them.With a growl of frustration, I flounce up from the bed and retreat to the wraparound porch.
When my mother lets out a piercing scream that leaves absolutely no doubt that lover boy has hit a home run, I can't take it anymore. I march off the porch to take a brief tour of the grounds.
Maybe they'll have worked it out of their systems by the time I get back.
Mother-daughter vacation, my ass.
* * *
Cole
“Sure thing, partner. Just call me whenever you're ready to book something,” I say, handing over my flimsy business card to the guy in front of me.
“Cool. Thanks, man.” The guy takes the card from me and stuffs it in the front pocket of his tropical tourist shirt before wrapping an arm around his woman and meandering off.
As much as I hate to admit it, my sister's idea of passing out these business cards has been a boon. We have more business than ever—especially when I come to Mountain Ridge Resort and pass the little fuckers out.It’s a hell of a lot easier than repeatedly chanting my number to people.
