Read Clara Meets The Parents (Clara Andrews #2) for Free Online Page B

up at a horrified Janie. ‘I am so sorry, Janie. It must have been something I ate.’
    ‘Or something you didn’t.’ Janie shoots me a filthy look and I pretend not to notice. ‘This is pure alcohol! You should know better than to drink on an empty stomach at your age!’
    Totally mortified, I gather up my things and throw my bag over my sun burnt shoulder. ‘I think I had better go back to the room. I’m not feeling all that well.’
    Avoiding all eye contact, I slip on my sandals and trudge over the sand, pretending not to notice the many scowls I accrue on the way. Nobody likes the dumb British girl who can’t hold her drink. Ignoring the remarks of trailer trash from the girls at the bar, I tip toe through the hotel lobby and take the lift up to our room. I only just make it through the door when I have to make a run for the bathroom.
    Second vomiting incident over, I splash my face with ice cold water and drop down onto the bed. I have spent the past six months daydreaming of this holiday and not once did I picture it going like this. I seriously cannot believe that less than an hour after being introduced to Oliver’s mother, I have hurled on her boots. Way to make a good impression, Clara.
    Firing up the air conditioning, I am about to pull the sheets up over my head and die of embarrassment when the door springs open.
    ‘Clara?’ Oliver pops his head around the door. ‘What the hell happened?
    ‘I don’t know what happened! I think it was something I ate.’ I wail and curl up into a ball.
    ‘Did you have too much to drink or something?’ He asks, sitting down on the edge of the bed. ‘Mom said you looked like you had a little too much.’
    ‘No!’ I yell back. ‘Well, maybe.’
    ‘You’re on vacation, a little too much tequila is allowed.’
    ‘Really?’ Rolling over to face him, I brush a limp curl off my sweaty cheek.
    ‘Yeah. Just next time, try not to hurl on my mom’s five hundred dollar boots.’ He laughs and heads to the bathroom.
    ‘What kind of idiot wears cowboy boots on the beach?’ I mumble under my breath.
    ‘What was that?’
    ‘Nothing!’ I shout back, rolling out of bed.
    ‘Now come on, let’s go get you something to eat. There’s a cook out down by the beach, I thought we could go for a burger.’
    Really not wanting to leave the room, I hesitate for a moment before giving in to the lure of fast food. Quickly throwing on a fresh sarong, I cross my arms and look down at my feet.
    ‘Everything OK?’ Oliver asks.
    ‘Not really. I threw up on your mum and now she hates me!’
    Laughing, he pushes me out of the door. ‘Come on, she doesn’t hate you. Just maybe try not to drink so much this afternoon. Do you think you can manage that?’
    ‘For the last time, it was something I ate!’
     
    Sipping an ice cold glass of sparkling water, I look out to sea and begin to feel myself relax. Fiddling with my straw, I decide it best to wipe the slate clean and pretend that this morning never happened. Everyone deserves a second chance, don’t they? Thankfully, Randy has taken Janie for a trip to the mall so I won’t have to see either of them again until dinner. I am hoping a bit of retail therapy will put her in a more forgiving mood.
    I watch Oliver order a couple of surf ‘n’ turf burgers and wonder how he has turned out so relatively normal with a mum like Janie. It’s not that I have anything against the unconventional, I really don’t. I just did not expect Oliver to have a plastic surgery addicted, tanorexic, peroxide, bitch mum. And I mean that in the nicest possible way. Honestly.
    ‘Feeling a little better?’ Oliver asks, pushing a bowl of nachos towards me.
    ‘You know what, I really do.’ Flashing him a confident smile, I take a golden nacho and dunk it into a mound of guacamole.
    ‘I know you don’t wanna talk about it, but you really don’t need to worry about the whole vomiting thing earlier. I can’t tell you how many times I have found my