My Ellie (The Perfectly Paired #1)

Chapter 10

Colton

Rory sits atop a bale of wood shavings as I go about my relatively short list of chores.

“Are you liking it here so far, then?” He asks as he leans further back on his perch, “You’ve almost lasted a whole week.” He throws a peanut up into the air before catching it in his mouth.

“I’d say I’m definitely enjoying myself.” I say with a smile as I sweep the floor outside of Sweetie’s stable.

It’s not a lie, I really am enjoying my time, aside from the crippling home sickness and the fact that I can’t seem to stop thinking about a woman who wants quite literally nothing to do with me.

I sometimes see Ellie in the kitchen at dinner time, and I’ll usually pretend not to notice when her gaze lingers on me for more than a handful of seconds—I know I’m not crazy because I’ve lifted my eyes to meet hers a couple of times which, in turn, focuses her attention on her dinner plate. The equestrian team seem to have extremely structured practice times and set schedules throughout the day. I managed to get a look at Rory’s copy of the team’s schedule yesterday and made a mental note of the arenas Ellie will be in for the next two weeks.

Is that creepy? Wow, I guess I’m creepy now, this is new .

What am I doing? How do I even handle this? She made it clear that she doesn’t want to talk to me, so I’ve been keeping my distance, but she’s occupying my mind when I’m awake and when I’m asleep. During my weekly call with my therapist, I couldn’t shut up about her.

“It’s probably nothing like Texas, but man I’ve got to ask, what was it like to be a rodeo rider?” The words spill from his lips as if he’s been bottling them up inside all week, tearing me away from diving deeper into my spiraling thoughts.

When I’m not on the phone with Meemaw and Wyatt, or instructing Lord Chamberlain’s sons on how to be a real cowboy, I spend almost all of my free time with Rory. He’s easy to get along with, even invited me to go and have drinks with him and some of the grooms two nights ago but I had a date with my bed—jet lag is not pretty.

He’s also been more than happy to put me to work, and I’ve always liked to stay busy and get my hands dirty. The staff at the estate have a lot more on their plates with the national equestrian team staying over the summer. I usually get done with the boys after an hour or two and Rory always seems to find me wherever I’m holed up.

“You’re just as bad as George and Edmund.” I laugh with a shake of my head.

Lord Chamberlain’s sons are almost exactly as I’d expected them to be. Thirteen-year-old George is loud and outspoken, while his eleven-year-old brother Edmund uses humor to win himself some attention. They ask me so many questions that my voice starts to feel a little hoarse after our time together, but they’re good kids, really. They listen, are eager to please and they love their ponies—who are now named Bill and Butch.

In truth, I’m more of a glorified babysitter than an instructor at this point, but I’m not complaining. They usually tire of our little training sessions after a couple of hours, but they always show up at our agreed times and they rarely complain when I ask them to do stable chores.

“No, but like, was it dangerous? It looks wild enough. Have you been thrown off before?” I take it back, he’s worse than George and Edmund.

“It was a thrill, that’s for sure. And yes, I’ve been thrown more times than I’d care to count. But I can’t imagine it’s crazier than your horse racing. It ain’t a long-lived sport like... golf, or something. It was fun for a while, but I started to rely on it for a paycheck and it became... well, less fun.”

“Yeah, I get that.” He says, leaning forward, “But why’d you stop? Can’t be any less fun than teaching little rich kids how to ride about in one of those huge fecking saddles.”

I rest the broom against the outside of Sweetie’s stall, “Your employer made me a generous offer, one I couldn’t say no to, but also,” Bending down, I pull the right leg of my jeans up just far enough to expose the bottom of the scar on my knee. “I got thrown one too many times, luck ran out.” I say before rolling the denim back over my boots.

He whistles through his teeth, “That looks painful, but you can still ride and everything?”

“I can do just about everything I could before but strictly no high impact activity, A.K.A no more rodeo riding. They rebuilt my knee completely after I landed on it like a sack of potatoes, but that kind of surgery is expensive in America, especially when you don’t have medical insurance.”

“So, here you are.”

“So, here I am,” I nod with a half-smile, “And what about you?” I ask as I cross my arms, leaning against the iron bars of Sweetie’s stable. If she weren’t occupied with her nightly meal, I wouldn’t trust her not to give me a love bite while my back’s turned. “Why aren’t you off to the horse races every chance you get?” I’ve noticed that some of Lord Chamberlain’s racehorses will get loaded up into trailers a few days a week, but Rory never goes with them.

“Ah,” he sighs, scratching at the back of his neck, “It’s not a pretty story, don’t have a cool looking scar like yours but I made some... poor decisions. Got in a fight with a guy at a bar and it didn’t end well, so I’ve got a four-year ban that ends in two years’ time.” He gets progressively quieter as he finishes his story.

“An Irishman in a bar fight? I think there’s a joke in there somewhere...” My attempt to lift his spirits is successful and I see a grin on his face as he lifts his gaze from the floor.

I push off the iron bars, “Well, take comfort in knowing that you’re the best jockey I’ve ever met.” I say as I turn and head for the storage room. I have plans to put George and Edmund to work tomorrow, and I need a couple bales of wood shavings to do so.

I round the corner just as Rory yells, “I’m the only jockey you’ve ever met!”

I’m still laughing to myself when I hear some very colorful curse words echo through the mostly silent stable block. There’s no doubt that they came from the storage room, the door is slightly ajar, and the light is on inside.

“Is everything alright in—” I pause as I step inside the door and spot Ellie. She has her back turned to the door, her arms wrapped around a bale of wood shavings—half of it’s on the shelf, half of it’s in her arms. There’s a wheelbarrow behind her, but it’s not in the right position to catch the bale, if she lets it fall the plastic might split and spill the shavings all over the floor.

Her head turns to the side, and she catches sight of me, “What do you think?” Her voice shakes with the effort of holding the bale up.

“Would you like me to help, or would you like me to go to hell?” I ask as I jog towards her.

“The first one.” She hisses .

I bend, placing a shoulder underneath the bale and bracing it with an arm before lifting it out of her grip. She heaves a few labored breaths and bends to place her hands on her knees. How long has she been in here struggling? She’s wearing the same tight, black get-up, I assume it’s her riding uniform, her helmet hangs from one of the wheelbarrow handles. Her hair is braided back, a few golden strands have found their way free after what was likely a whole day of training.

“Just my luck.” She huffs, shaking her head.

“Have I... have I done something to you?” The words are out before I can stop them. My tone isn’t accusatory, but it’s clear I’m at a loss as I look down at her.

She stands up straight, her green eyes pierce mine for a moment before she covers them with a dirty hand. “No, no you haven’t done anything.” She sighs deeply, “Except, you know, tie a noose around my horse’s neck but I’m willing to overlook that.” She peeks at me through her fingers before dropping her hand from her face. “I’m just not in a great mental space right now. I’m an anxious-wreck, I am at the best of times but even more so with Olympic trials just around the corner. It’s no excuse, and I really am sorry—especially for snapping at you in the arena. I actually liked seeing the boys trotting around those barrels, it was cute and it kind of put me at ease during my shit-show of a training session.” She looks like she doesn’t quite know what to do with her hands, so she settles on crossing her arms across her chest. “If it’s worth anything at all, I’ve been meaning to come and knock on your door but it’s usually quite late whenever I have the time and I didn’t want to disturb you if you were sleeping, or if the twins—”

“Oh, no.” I cut her off with a shake of my head, “That is not happening, they haven’t been back and I’d very much like for it to stay that way.”

“Noted,” She laughs before pointing to the wheelbarrow, “You can just pop that in there.”

“I’m not sure I trust you to get it to your destination safely.” I muse with a skeptical look.

“I know you just saved me from imminent death, and that it doesn’t look like it, but I swear I do actually know what I’m doing. I’ll let you get back to whatever it was you were doing before you stuck your nose into my business—again.” She smiles at me, her nose scrunching slightly and I think I can feel my heart melting in my chest.

Against my better judgment, I place the bale into the wheelbarrow and watch as she positions herself behind the handles.

She grins at me, as if she knows I want to offer to help. I grin back, knowing she won’t accept it.

I can’t imagine that the grooms on the estate don’t take good care of her fancy horse, she shouldn’t have any reason to be lugging around bales of horse bedding. “Why are you messing around with shavings bales on a Sunday night?” I ask as she lifts the handles and wheels her bale towards the door.

“I could ask you the same question, cowboy.” She calls back to me as she exits the storage room.