You, Me, and Lucky Number 13

Chapter One – Lola

CHAPTER ONE

LOLA

I’ve always sworn I would never chase a man. As my mother always said, it’s tacky. Although, I’m pretty sure she didn’t mean with my car…

“Run, you little prick!” I smile at the fear in Chad’s eyes as he weaves through the parking lot. I swerve, purposely trying to ram the front end of my car up his lying ass. “Towanda!”

Okay, let’s pause for a second. If this were a movie, the scene would stop, and I would provide a voiceover of what the fresh hell is happening, but this isn’t a movie, and I’m not Kathy Bates in Fried Green Tomatoes .

She was driving a Ford Crown Victoria circling the lot at the Winn Dixie when two rude teenagers took the parking spot she was waiting for before hollering “Towanda” and crashing her car into theirs repeatedly.

I’m an eccentric ex-girlfriend who went to the store in my pajamas for another bottle of wine and cheesecake while driving my 1970 Dodge Charger when I spotted my lying ex-boyfriend walking hand in hand with the woman he just happened to cheat on me with.

Here he is, not even a month after our breakup, with Monica, the cute blonde attached to his side like a high-end swamp leech.

I simply reacted.

I did not ask myself what Jesus or my mother would do. I revved my engine like a psycho and chased this piece of shit down.

It was a mistake—a really dramatic one. The problem is, I can’t bring myself to regret it.

Chad screams again, and I get a little giddy. “Please, Charlotte. Think this through!”

Oh, I have thought it through. I lay in bed all those lonely nights and cried on his pillow, thinking about what I possibly could have done to drive him away.

“Don’t call me Charlotte, you tiny-dick bastard! My. Name. Is. Lola.”

The rational part of me realizes my name is, in fact, Charlotte, but everyone calls me Lola—except for Chad. He always had preferred Charlotte. I could only assume that it sounded more distinguished to his wealthy father, who had all those numbers behind his name. Just wait until he hears about me chasing his only son through a parking lot in my pajamas while screaming obscenities from the window.

I wasn’t always this crazy. Chad’s constant negativity and “helpful” suggestions made me this way. I was never enough for him. My skin was too pasty, my ass too small, yada, yada, yada. I lived in a constant state of self-consciousness throughout our relationship. I wanted to be perfect so he’d feel as lucky as I felt landing a gorgeous Formula One driver who always secured a spot on the winner’s podium.

I thought the man was quite the catch. I couldn’t have been more wrong.

And all this fucking time, he wanted someone who was not me.

The bastard deserves to be hit by a car.

“Charlotte! You’re going to hurt someone!”

I sure am—him.

All my savings—gone!

My apartment—gone!

Everything I achieved over the last five years—yep, you guessed it—gone.

Job? Oh, yeah, that’s gone, too. When Chadwick freaking Tane wants a new race engineer, one who isn’t his ex-girlfriend, his agent makes it happen. I guess I should be thankful that the severance package was decent. But I can’t get past the betrayal of it all. You can break up with me, but you can’t fire me, too. My job performance had absolutely nothing to do with our relationship. Granted, I wouldn’t have wanted to work for the bastard after he unceremoniously dumped me via text, but I still would have liked the option of leaving on my own terms instead of suddenly being kicked out of our joint apartment with nothing but my savings, which was dismal from the get-go.

It’s bad enough that I ate my way to the next dress size while trying to figure out my disaster of a life one Airbnb at a time until my savings depleted. To make matters worse, I had to move into my brother’s apartment with his half-dead chihuahua, which smells like feet and taco seasoning.

I am at my wit’s end. Yep, this is rock bottom.

I’ve been knocked down and humiliated while this motherfucker spends his weekend leisurely shopping the wine section at the Food Mart while I ate half a bag of popcorn while strolling the ice cream cooler.

Hell yeah, I got mad. Maybe even a little crazy.

Should I have followed him and his new girlfriend, watching them giggle and kiss while loading their groceries? No, I shouldn’t have. But all rational thought had left my brain at that point.

The devil must suffer for what he did. It’s only fitting that Bal Harbour, Florida’s small suburb, sees their golden boy run from the sheriff’s little sister.

Brian will be pissed when he hears about this, but frankly, I don’t give a single shit. Chadwick Tane needs to be taught a lesson. You don’t spend five years of your life with someone you swore to marry after you won the World Drivers’ Championship Trophy only to dump her right before one of the biggest races of the season.

That’s low, even for Chad.

But whatever, I’m over it—well, I will be after I clip him with my car.

“Run, you lying bastard!”

I punch the gas, whipping around the corner as the bastard bobs and weaves through the parked cars until he finally runs out of breath and stops between two of them. He thinks he’s protected, but he makes a fatal mistake by flashing me an arrogant smirk while simultaneously flipping me off, which really switches my crazy into high gear.

I rev the engine and back down the aisle to gain momentum, but just as I put the car in gear, a truck rams into me from the side, pinning me between them and the parked cars. Eleanor, my car, groans and hisses as her metal body takes a crushing blow.

“Dammit!” I shout at the wide-eyed driver who clearly wasn’t paying attention to the circus around him. “You wrecked my car!”

Like it was all Eleanor could take, she sputters a few times before her engine dies completely.

I point to the jackass in the truck. “You better hope I can fix this.”

I care about two things in this world: racing and Eleanor. Apart from those things, nothing else matters—not even Chad. I knew deep down he wasn’t the one, but I had hoped things would change. “The one” never loved me like I did him. It's hard to let go of the love of your life when he leaves without offering any closure.

The only good thing that came out of that relationship was Eleanor, which?—

“Get out of the car with your hands up.”

Dammit.

I sigh, glancing in the review mirror, spotting a cop car and a familiar face. I guess fuck boy is getting away without my car up his ass after all. Bummer.

“I’m getting out, Smithie! Lower your fucking gun before you slip and shoot your foot again.” My brother tends to hire deputies who use their guns about as much as I use matte lipstick—never.

“Lola!” Smithie’s shocked voice shames me for about 2.5 seconds before my anger at Chad sets back in. “Didn’t your brother tell you to leave Chad alone?”

Brian did say that, but we were drinking, and I was threatening Chad with bodily harm. Brian was obligated as the county sheriff to tell me to leave him alone. I didn’t take it as an official warning. Though, maybe I should have. I could have saved us all from this cozy little reunion.

“Smithie,” I call out, “now is not the time for lectures.” I try the handle of the door, intending to get out like Smithie demanded, but it’s jammed. “The door won’t open. I need your help.”

I don’t know where Chad’s ass disappeared to, but I bet the little turd is loving my predicament right now.

“I’ll call for backup.” Smithie weakly informs me. It’s as if he’s unsure whether he’s supposed to help his boss’s sister or keep his gun trained on her.

“Maybe I can crawl through the window,” I suggest desperately. “Just don’t shoot me, okay?”

Smithie barely passed his gun certification test this year, so I’m not so much worried about my safety but more about the safety of others. If he fired, he’d likely hit all these lovely people who have gathered in the parking lot to watch this shitshow unfold. This small town rarely sees any action. This is like a fancy Hollywood premiere for them, and unfortunately, all eyes are on the star of the show—me.

Before Smithie can even answer, a fire truck pulls up, and sirens cut through the air. Great, now the fire department is here. I didn’t think this could be more of a spectacle than it already was, but it seems I was mistaken. The doors swing open, and a bunch of firefighters jump out, but one in particular catches my eye. He's tall and lean, with a face that could launch a thousand ships. And he's smiling at me, even though I'm pretty sure I look like a hot mess.

Please don’t come over here. Send one of the less-hot firefighters to help me. You don’t need to see this.

“Are you okay, ma’am?” His eyes focus on my pajama-clad legs.

It’s the smoking-hot firefighter. Because of course, it would be him. I’m hoping it’s a good sign that his helmet shield has a 13 on it.

I base my entire life decisions on my lucky number thirteen.

It has never steered me wrong.

Until today.

Aisle thirteen had a buy one, get one free sale on ice cream. It was like the universe knew I needed not one but two tubs of ice cream tonight after the last few shitty months I’ve had. I took it as a sign, and that sign led me right past Chad and his new girl.

I only followed them for a minute before heading to register thirteen and checking out. It wasn’t until I was in my car, crying and opening the ice cream tub, that I saw Chad head to his car parked on ROW THIRTEEN. The universe was clearly testing me.

That’s when I knew this was my day to get back at the piece of shit who destroyed my life.

Now, I’m not blaming my faithful lucky number. I’m just saying that maybe I read it wrong today.

“Ma’am.” The ridiculously sexy firefighter taps on my window, trying again to get my attention. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

No, I’m far from all right. What the hell did I just do? Did I really chase Chad and crash my car in the process?

Someone clears their throat, and I’m reminded that Hottie is still waiting for my answer.

“Yes, I’m fine,” I tell the man with straight white teeth and a big grin. “Just hanging out.”

He chuckles. “Maybe it’s time to hang out somewhere less exciting, huh?”

I’m pretty sure he’s making a joke, and I appreciate the effort.

“Yeah.” I sigh. “I’m getting a little overstimulated by all the fanfare.”

His smile is both charming and dangerous, and I’m not sure which one is more appealing. “I’m Luke,” he says through the window. “I just moved here from Georgia.”

“Charlotte, but most people call me Lola.” I shrug. “And unfortunately, I’ve lived in Bal Harbour all my life.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Lola. How about we get you out of here and away from all the paparazzi?”

Well, Luke is just freaking adorable. Treating this like a drunken celebrity crash is more than I could ask for. At least he’s easing the awkwardness.

“Do you think you can come through the window?” He holds his hands out like he intends to help me.

I laugh—like deep-belly-throw-my-head-back kind of laugh. “If you think I’m going to let you see me like this, you’re sadly mistaken.” I cross my arms, sobering my laugh. “I’m going to need you to turn around.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

Of course not. Nothing can go my freaking way today.

“And why not?”

His lip twitches like he wants to laugh. “It’s my job to extract you from the car safely.”

“Extract?” I scoff. “I think you’re being a little too dramatic. I can totally get out on my own. I don’t need an extraction.”

For goodness’ sake. What a freaking dumpster fire this day has turned out to be.

“From where I’m standing, ma’am, it seems that you do.”

Luke leans in closer to me, like he's about to share a secret. “You know, a lot of people come to this small town for the peace and quiet. But sometimes, life has a way of bringing all the drama right here to the front door.”

I look around at the crowd of onlookers and the damage I caused. “I guess that's true.”

“But you know what they say, don't you?”

“What's that?”

“Even in the midst of chaos, we find our moments of clarity. And from the look of things, it seems like you've had quite the revelation today.”

I sure have. Next time, I’m not going to leave Chad as a witness.

Fucker.

I reach out and grab Luke’s hand. It’s rough but firm. It’s the kind of hand that can extinguish a fire and save a life. And in this moment, it’s the kind of hand that’s helping me out of this car.

“Just don’t judge me, okay?”

“No judging,” he says with a smirk, crossing his heart.

He’s so judging, but that’s fine.

No, no, it isn’t fine. I changed my mind. I’m better off just dying of embarrassment in my car.

“You know what?” I wave my hand between us like I’m shooing him away. “Just let me die. I’m ready to go.”

He hitches a grin that is so handsome I almost reconsider.

Almost.

“Tell your boss you couldn’t get me out or that I crawled out on my own and grabbed a coffee. We don’t have to do this rescue—extraction thing.”

I beg him with my eyes, pleading silently for him to abandon his duty and leave me here to rot in this parking lot.

“Ma’am. Like I said earlier, I’ve seen it all. There’s no need to be embarrassed.”

He’s all of twenty-one years old. He most definitely hasn’t seen it all.

“You haven’t seen this,” I assure him.

If possible, his grin widens. “How bad can it be?”

Try a week without shaving my legs and the rattiest pair of period panties that I spent an obscene amount of time locating, all for the sake of comfort.

“Look,” I hold up a hand in reason. “I’ve recently endured a breakup, one that left me a little…” How do I explain this? “Messy. I needed this last month to go on one of those Eat, Pray, Love adventures.”

Heavier on the eating—and the praying if we’re getting technical. I pray every day Chad gets a finger up the ass for being such a prick. But I digress.

“You caught me at a bad time.”

A really bad time.

Firefighter Luke smothers his grin behind his fist. “I understand, ma’am, and I promise on my mother’s chicken casserole that I will remain professional while extricating you from the vehicle.”

“You say all the right things, Luke, but I just can’t be responsible for scarring your future image of women.”

Seriously, Luke hasn’t faced three-day-old pajamas and no bra after a weekend of binge drinking. He has many years before he learns that women are not always stunning creatures straight out of bed. We have bad weeks—okay, months—and while Luke will ultimately need to know this secret, I do not need to be the one sharing this valuable knowledge and bursting his bubble on a Tuesday afternoon.

The door behind me is pried off, and I squeak. “I appreciate you guys responding, I do. The county needs more men like you, but I’m fine. I’ll crawl out of here and Uber my way home. Don’t you worry.”

Please, Luke. Please, just look away.

But he doesn’t. Instead, my big brother appears out of nowhere and snatches me from the car, nearly banging my kneecap on the center console.

“What the fuck were you thinking, Lola?”

Safely standing in my brother’s arms with a parking-lot-sized audience looking on, I straighten my back, dust off my pajamas like the prestigious woman I am, and lie. “I was trying and failing to escape the bee in my car. You know I’m allergic. Excuse me a minute while I go exchange insurance information with the idiot who hit me while I was trying to get away from the killer bee. I’ll be right back.”