Just My Luck by Adele Parks (best romance books of all time txt) 📗

won the fathers’ race on school sports day. “I just took the winning ticket into the garage and waved it about. It was amazing. You should have seen their faces.” He’s giddy, not himself at all. “I’m not sure they believed me at first, but I told them we’ve been doing it for years and that we always use the same numbers. That we—you—buy the ticket from the same WHSmith on the high street every week, during your lunch hour. They loved the story. Lapped it up. Everyone loves a winner, right?”

Well, that solves the mystery as to how the knowledge that the winner is local was leaked onto the internet. My own husband blabbed to a sales rep who obviously couldn’t resist sharing the scoop. “You took the lottery ticket into the garage?” I’m amazed at his audacity, at his stupidity. I drop my handbag to my feet and gawp at the car.

“Yeah.”

“What if you’d lost it?”

Jake clocks my expression, which is no doubt a mix between concern and irritation. “Oh, right, sorry. It was stupid of me. I shouldn’t have done that. I’m just so excited!” He puts his arms around me, hugs me tightly. He murmurs into my ear. “Sorry. My bad, but don’t worry, I didn’t lose it.” His breath is warm and his touch familiar, and I can’t help but sink into it. Emily looks embarrassed at our PDA, and so Jake breaks away and starts to enthusiastically recite facts and figures about the car that make no sense to me. “Isn’t she a beaut? This is the 488 GTB. It has a three-point-nine-litre engine, five hundred and thirty horsepower. The performance is outrageous, the chassis is sublime.” He strokes the bonnet, practically caresses it. “This model is a big deal for Ferrari. It represents a change of philosophy for the company’s mid-engine supercar.” I stare at him. He could be speaking a foreign language for all I understand. Or care.

“This car doesn’t actually belong to me,” Jake adds. “It’s on loan.”

“Oh, thank goodness.” My relief is short-lived, though.

“Mine won’t be ready for a few weeks. Mine is red and I’m getting some customization done. That takes a bit of time. I found it hard to make a call between leather or carbon fiber door cards. I wish you’d been there to help pick. She’s sensational, right?”

“How much?”

“Hey, if you need to ask, you can’t afford it, and as we can afford anything you don’t need to ask.” He grins at me. His irrepressible, charming grin. Normally I find it overpowering; today I manage to remain focused.

“How much?”

“Well, this model is from 195,000 pounds, but we’re getting a convertible and they are a smidge more.”

“Two hundred thousand pounds for a car!”

“Ours will be nearer two hundred thirty.” Jake sounds proud.

“You can buy a house for that.”

“Yeah, if you want to,” he agrees, obviously not getting my point. “Maximum speed is 205.1 mph.”

“That’s an illegal speed.”

“Well, I won’t ever actually travel that fast, of course—it’s just there as an option.”

“Isn’t it stunning!” chips in Emily. “Although I think Dad should have gone for British racing green with a red interior. I’ve just been looking at the colorways online.”

“Why aren’t you at school? What’s wrong with you exactly?” My tone is harsher than I intended. Emily looks to the ground. Bringing the shutters down.

“Period pain,” she mutters grumpily. “Or maybe a stomach bug?” She then shoots her father a look. I’m too busy processing the fact a car can cost over two hundred thousand pounds to notice if Emily’s expression is one of embarrassment or one pleading for secrecy. It’s shifty. She’s obviously just skiving.

I don’t want to throw cold water when Jake is so buoyant. He loves cars, and I did expect him to buy a new one with our winnings. Of course. Throughout our marriage we’ve made do with reliable secondhand hatchbacks. This was bound to be a moment for him. I just hadn’t expected him to select one so quickly. And so expensive. But in the spirit of keeping the show on the road, I say, “I treated myself, too. I bought teapigs tea bags.”

Jake and Emily burst out laughing. Emily recovers first when she realizes I’m not joking. “I’ll put the kettle on,” she offers.

“No need, I have champagne on ice,” says Jake. “It’s Cristal. It cost two hundred quid a bottle.”

“I don’t want champagne. I want a cuppa,” I say.

“Yeah, but when the lottery lady gets here, she might want a glass,” says Jake. With a sigh, I accept this might be true.

CHAPTER 9

Emily

I don’t know if it’s just because Dad is jazzed about his new car or if he has actually forgotten, but I’m massively relieved that he obviously doesn’t feel the need to tell Mum the details of why I am home.

I walked out of school. It was as simple as that. Then I texted Dad. I don’t want to be here.

Coming, princess. Wait until you see my chariot!

The car is awesome. It’s just like this great big daffodil-colored pile of perfection. You can see it a mile off and hear it from even farther away. Dad sat at the school gates revving the engine. Since I was skipping lessons, I should have been keeping a low profile. That would have been the wise thing to do, but it was pretty cool to see kids with mouths hanging wide-open. Ridley was one of them. I pretended not to see him but I could feel his glare on my back. I flicked my hair over my shoulder and then Dad zoomed away. It cheered me up a bit after my fallout with Ridley and Megan. I just can’t believe the way they acted! It was like we’d never been friends! Like we weren’t a thing! So jealous.

“Did you see their faces, did you?” I asked Dad as we sped away.

“Sure did.” Dad started to give me lots of info about the car then. I didn’t take much of it in.