Page 3 of The Romance Library

‘Do you want me to take some to the charity shop?’ It’d probably take thousands of trips and my car wasn’t really up to the job, but I wanted to at least try to help.

Charities could raise a lot of money from books like this, not to mention all the joy these novels would bring to so many readers.

‘Not exactly. Let’s go on a little trip.’

My shoulders loosened. The fact that she wanted to leave the house with me was another positive sign.

We returned upstairs and Mrs Davis reached for an elegant navy-blue jacket that matched her dress. As she slid her arms through the sleeves, she winced.

‘Are you okay?’ I asked.

‘Yes.’ She hobbled towards the door. She seemed fine earlier, but maybe going up the stairs had tired her out. I looped my arm in hers. ‘You’re very kind,’ she said as we stepped outside.

‘I should warn you,’ I said, lowering my voice, ‘my car is a little… temperamental. Do we have far to go?’

‘It’s about a forty-five-minute drive.’

Fingers crossed we’d make it that far.

‘Excuse the mess.’ I opened the passenger door and gathered up the sheets of paper with directions to Mrs Davis’s house that were strewn across the seat.

I’d begged the receptionist at my third job to print them off at seven this morning before I left. Google Maps was one of the many things I missed about having a smartphone.

After I helped her into the car, we set off. Mrs Davis gave me directions all the way, and when we’d driven almost an hour, she announced that we’d finally arrived.

‘We’re going to that building’—she pointed across the road—‘so best to find a parking space now.’

‘Okay.’ I nodded.

The road was busy, but after scanning both sides, I spotted the perfect space about a hundred metres away. I checked my mirrors, wincing when I saw the one on the passenger side was dangerously close to falling off, indicated, then drove towards it.

But just as I was about to pull into the spot, a powerful car engine roared behind me. It was so loud I almost jumped out of my skin. And before I had a chance to blink, the shiny black Ferrari sped past us and straight into the parking space.

What the hell?

I slammed on my brakes, causing Mrs Davis to jerk forward.

‘Sorry!’ I unbuckled my seat belt. ‘Back in a sec.’

I was parked in the middle of the road, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t going to let this dickhead get away with stealing our space.

Just because he had a flashy sports car didn’t mean he owned the street.

‘Excuse me!’ I banged on the window. The door opened, and as the driver stepped out, I swallowed hard.

Mr Parking Space Stealer was around six foot three and dressed in a sharp pinstriped suit which looked like it had been sewn onto his skin. He had dark hair, piercing blue come-to-bed eyes, and those lips…

Wait. Why was I looking at his lips?

I mentally slapped myself and came back to my senses.

‘You just stole my parking space!’ I snapped.

‘Forgive me.’ His eyes dropped to the ground, then his head shifted from left to right like he was looking for something. ‘I must’ve missed the sign which said it’d been reserved just for you.’ He lifted his gaze, his posh, velvety voice dripping with sarcasm. ‘Oh, that’s right: that’s because there isn’t one, because this is a public street. Where parking is available on a first come, first-served basis. And as you can see, I got here first.’

‘Don’t try and be clever!’ I put my hands on my hips. ‘You saw me indicating! You knew I was going to take the space and you deliberately jumped in front of me!’

‘You were driving so slow I thought you were lost. And I’m in a hurry.’

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