Clara Meets The Parents (Clara Andrews #2) by Lacey London Read Free Book Online Page A

Feeling like a little pork chop, I pop the bread back into the centre of the table.
    ‘You might wanna try it some time.’ She flashes me a wink and I feel my cheeks instantly burn up.
    Reminding myself that I have to win her over, I decide not to bite back. Tucking my hair behind my ears, I pick up the cocktail that has appeared in front of me. Yummy. Calories in alcohol don’t count, right?
    ‘Did Oliver tell you that I booked us a couple of massages at the spa hut down on the beach?’
    Janie stares at me blankly, so I carry on talking. ‘It looks amazing. Sea front treatments, complimentary champagne and afterwards they make you a lobster lunch.’ Clapping my hands excitedly, I wait for her to say something.
    ‘I don’t think so. It’s not really my thing.’ She turns her attention to the menu and crosses her very long legs.
    ‘It’s spa treatments, champagne and lobster. How can that not be your thing?’ I stare at her confused.
    ‘I’m a vegetarian.’ She takes a sip of her drink and flashes me a pearly white smile that doesn’t quite meet her eyes.
    Before I get a chance to explain that I am sure that there will be other edible things to eat apart from luxurious seafood, Oliver slips his arm around my shoulders.
    ‘My dad went ahead and ordered the tasting menu, that OK?’ He pushes the bread towards me.
    Not wanting another fat jibe from Janie, I politely decline.
    ‘So tell us a bit about yourself, Clara.’ Randy turns to face me and I realise that this is my time to shine.
    I have rehearsed this speech so many times in preparation for this holiday that I now know it off by heart. I begin with my upbringing in the North West of England, before moving swiftly on to my relocation to the big smoke. Once I have finished telling them about my hard climb up the career ladder and my charity work for the local dogs home, I am pretty sure I have sold myself well. Even though the charity work consists of nothing more than the odd bag of thread bare clothes donated to the charity shop, it felt good to throw it in there. Sitting back in my chair, I feel a swell of joy at Oliver’s proud smile.
    ‘Oliver hates dogs.’ Janie snipes from behind her cocktail glass.
    ‘Really?’ I spin around in my seat to face him. ‘You never told me you didn’t like dogs?’
    ‘It’s not that I hate dogs. I guess I just prefer the company of cats.’ He shrugs his shoulders and I stare at him in shock.
    He can’t be serious! I hate cats! He knows that I hate cats! OK, let’s not blow this out of proportion. We are allowed to like different things. It’s not that big of a deal. I try to push it to the back of mind but I am visibly irked. Catching Janie flash me a smug grin, I suddenly feel stupid for falling for her antagonistic stirring.
    Straining my mouth into a forced smile, I let out a small sigh. ‘I actually love both. In fact, I love all animals. Are you a pet person, Janie?’
    ‘Are you kidding me?’ Randy hollers over the table. ‘Janie hates anything that has more than two legs and doesn’t speak English.’
    ‘I’m sure that’s not true.’ I glance at Janie for confirmation as our first courses are placed down on the table.
    ‘It’s not true sweetie.’
    Breathing a sigh of relief, I pick up my fork and dive into the steaming fishcakes.
    ‘I hate anything that doesn’t speak American.’

Chapter 13
     
    Call me crazy, but six courses and a good few glasses of wine later, I think Janie is starting to soften. Since the delicious lime cheese cake, Janie has complimented my watch, insisted I try her signature cocktail, which incidentally turned out to be vile and apologised profusely when she accidentally jabbed me with her fork. A little part of me did think it was more accidentally on purpose rather than accidentally, but maybe I am just being paranoid.
    Sat in the lounge bar sipping Mexican espressos, we look the image of family togetherness. Wincing at the copious amounts of tequila in my