Charming for Mother's Day (A Calendar Girls Novella) Read Online Free

didn’t even think twice when I met Ariana. But then, you waltzed into the kitchen, and...” He flicked a finger at his temple. “ Tink! The lightbulb went on. How lucky is that?”
              My lips twisted into my usual “Yeah, it figures” expression. “Right. Lucky. I wouldn’t expect anything else for you.”
                  Some people were born under a lucky star. Colin was born under a lucky star while leprechauns farted four-leaf clovers and rabbits tossed their amputated feet into his gold-encrusted cradle. I, on the other hand, was born on Friday the thirteenth. No lie.
                  When I used to complain about my unfortunate birth date as a child, my mother would say that days don’t create luck. People make their own luck. I would add that the Murriere bank account tempted luck to their side a lot more often than my hard work and determination did. If anyone were to ask me, I’d say Lady Luck was a gold-digging floozy. Not that anyone asked.
    I slipped my jacket on and zipped up.
    “Long night, huh?”
    Looking up from the tabs of my fake fur collar, I grimaced. “You have no idea.”
    “Listen, Lucie, can I buy you a cup of coffee? An iced tea? A grilled cheese sandwich?”
    I hadn’t indulged in grilled cheese and coffee in the middle of the night since my club-hopping days—something I gave up a round the same time Colin gave me up.
    “Sorry.” I shook my head. “I’ve been up for sixteen hours already. I’ll be lucky if I don’t fall asleep before I get home.”
    “That sounds dangerous.”
    “Don’t worry. I’m not driving.”
    His brows rose in questioning arcs. “You’re not? Then how are you getting home?”
    “I’ll take my broomstick.” I slid into my jacket and zipped up, then pulled my gloves from my pockets as I strode past him. “Goodnight, C hef.”
    “Lucie. Wait. Please.”
    Oh, for God’s sake, I had fifteen minutes before my bus came, a ten-minute walk ahead of me, it was probably twenty degrees outside, and my new boss chose now to chit-chat. I stopped in the foyer, my hand on the door. “ Yes?”
                  He looked at his feet for a minute, and I sighed my impatience.
    “I wanted to say thanks for your insight today. I appreciate it.”
                  “You’re welcome,” I said and pushed my way outside before he could stop me again.
                  The sudden cold air drew a gasp from deep in my lungs. Had I thought it was twenty degrees? Probably closer to minus ten with the wind roaring off the ocean. Hugging myself against the sting of salt and sand, I lowered my head and soldiered on. Three frigid blocks later, I reached the shelter of the bus stop and huddled in the weatherproof cubby. I glanced at my watch—still five minutes to go—so I pulled my latest paperback from my oversized purse and picked up where I’d left off on the ride here hours ago. Forensic accountant, Kathleen Porter, had just figured out where bad guy, Frederic Dalchand, hid his assets when headlights skimmed over the page and into my face. For once, Jack was early.
                  Closing the book, I stood and saw, not the bus I expected, but a shiny black luxury sedan. Dread slammed into my chest. Two a.m., dark street, no one around: a tragedy waiting to happen. Carefully, on slow breaths, I slipped my hand into my pocket and found my emergency cell. I couldn’t miss the 911 button, as big as my thumb. 
                  Before I could make the call, though, a motorized hum sounded as the driver’s tinted window rolled down.
                  “Lucie.” Colin Murriere’s head popped out.
                  “Chef.” I should have known. “Nice car.”
                  “I won it on the show.”
                  Did he actually have the nerve to flush?  I removed my hand from my pocket and took a step closer to the