My Ellie (The Perfectly Paired #1)

Chapter 22

Colton

Wyatt doesn’t leave for prom until later tonight—thank you, time difference—so a quick trip to the pub shouldn’t be an issue at all.

Rory gave us the go ahead to use his car after our trail ride this morning, but he’s working so won’t be joining us. Sanya says it’s a good thing, though, since Rory isn’t exactly a one or two drinks kind of guy.

The girls rushed back to the coach house to change as I stabled Remi, and I’m now sat in Rory’s car waiting for Wyatt to pick up his phone. I know he’s awake, ordinarily he wouldn’t be out of bed at this hour—but Christina is on the prom committee, so Wyatt’s signed himself up for a day of prom-related tasks and activities.

“Hey,” He says over the speaker as the call finally connects, his voice is raspy with sleep and his dark hair is an unruly mess. “Sorry, I’m awake—”

“Are you trying to convince me?” I laugh as he rubs at his face.

“I set four alarms and hit snooze on all of them. I have to get up and grab coffees for everyone on the prom committee. I volunteered last night...”

“I’m sure this has nothing to do with wanting to impress Christina.” I laugh as he drops his face into his pillow. “Is everything else in order? You remembered to put the corsages in the fridge, right? Those things can wilt and die real quick in the heat you know—”

“Yes,” He interrupts me with a sigh and a smile as he lifts his face from his pillow, “Everything is under control, I think... Here’s my tux.” He pans the camera to where his tux hangs from his closet door.

“Looks great, I’m so stoked for you. Hey, I’m just calling to say I’m going to the pub with a couple of friends, but I’ll be back way before y’all are ready to leave for the night. Tell Meemaw she can call me whenever and I’ll pick up—that goes for you too. I want to see all the pictures, and don’t drink too much.” He opens his mouth to protest his innocence, but I cut him off, “You know I was seventeen once too, right? Just... don’t be dumb about it, you hear? Make sure you eat enough and only have a couple of beers, nothing else. And remember that no one wants to kiss a sloppy drunk.” He scoffs and we both laugh before the vintage alarm clock he requested for his fifteenth birthday starts to chirp.

“I’ll speak to you later, Colt.” He gives the alarm clock a gentle tap with one hand, “Love you.”

“Love you, Wyatt. Be smart!” I smile as he hangs up, lowering my phone to see Sanya and Ellie exiting the coach house .

Ellie’s wearing a white sundress, her hair falls over her shoulders as she and Sanya jog towards the car. She looks like a Goddess, and I can’t take my eyes off of her for a second as she approaches.

I hadn’t been expecting her to hug me earlier, hell—I’d been expecting a scolding for cheering after her routine. But when she’d thrown her arms around me, it felt like the entire world had halted on its axis, and I’d wasted no time in scooping her up and holding her close. My face had been buried in that golden hair, the smell of her coconut and vanilla shampoo filled my nostrils.

The passenger door opens, and Sanya hauls herself into the back seat with a panted, “We should go, I think I just saw your mum.”

Ellie fixes the front seat and hops in, rushing to close the door, “Let’s go, before she realizes I’m not in my room watching tape.”

I have to tear my mind from thoughts of her sweet-smelling hair, from the way her supple body felt pressed against mine—because we are friends, and she’s given me no reason to believe she wants anything more than that. I cringe inwardly at the words I almost spoke at the picnic.

I think Ellie is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.

Reel it in, Casanova .

Rory’s car sputters alive and we head down the long driveway as the radio blares some old Beatles tracks. Ellie and I roll our windows down and let the warm summer air flow through the car. Sanya sits forward, stretching her seatbelt to the max as she drapes her arms over our seats.

This feels like a movie scene, one that I should remember for a long time.

My mood dampens a little when we pull into the parking lot of the pub and discover that we aren’t the only ones to stop by for a lunchtime drink.

I spot a familiar red sports car, parked across the same two spots where it usually sits. My jaw clenches slightly as we exit the car, though it relaxes a moment later when Ellie walks around the hood and gives me a soul shattering smile. “Thirsty for some green juice?” Her voice is light and there’s no hint of anxiety in her face.

“Been thinking about it for weeks now.” I lie, following her and Sanya into the old pub.

The last time we were all here it had been a bustling Friday night, but this time I can really take in the interior of the place and appreciate the... ambiance?

There are old photos and hand painted art pieces all over the stone walls, little trinkets hang from the wooden ceiling beams and from the looks of the stone around the windows, the walls of the place are at least three feet thick. The vacant stools at the bar are beautifully mismatched and made from different colored wood, a few of them are taken by Peter and a couple of the cross-country riders. They look over their shoulders as we enter, and Peter shoots a foul grin in our direction.

“Why don’t you ladies sit over there,” I gesture to the other side of the pub, near where we sat and played strip poker a few weeks ago, “I’ll grab the drinks. Three green juices?”

“Delicious.” Sanya says while pulling a face, I know she’d rather have a wine or a gin and tonic, but she’s being observed by the scout tomorrow. Ellie hooks her arm through Sanya’s and rests her head on her shoulder as they make their way to the right. Besides fucknuts and his cronies, there are a couple of regulars sitting at some tables on the other side of the pub.

The same bartender stands behind the aged wooden bar, a stained rag on her shoulder.

“Three cordials please, ma’am.” I say as I reach the bar. She gives me a wordless nod before turning to find the bottle of green liquid that, I can only assume, she doesn’t use very often.

I hear the scrape of wood on stone, and I don’t need to look up to know that Peter is sidling up to me. He has a certain aura about him that makes my skin prickle before he announces himself.

“Cowboy,” He says, by way of greeting, “You and Eleanor seem to be spending an awful lot of time together as of late.”

So, he’s just jumping right into it, I might respect it if he weren’t such a douche .

I turn my head in his direction to find him leaning his back against the bar, elbows propped up on the wood as he turns his head to speak to me. “All of those early morning breakfasts and one-on-one rides, it does make one wonder if she’s been riding anything else—”

“You watch your mouth, now.” I warn calmly, but Peter doesn’t take the hint.

There’s an infuriating smile on his face, one that tells me this boarding school boy never had the shit beat out of him for pushing his luck a little too far.

“Does her mother know?” He continues, tilting his head a little, “Just how much time you two are spending together? How much of a distraction you’re becoming? I hope she’s not too frustrated with the poor girl when she finds out.”

“Ellie’s a grown woman,” I say as I watch the bartender fish the bottle of cordial from a cupboard behind the bar. “She gets to decide who she wants to spend her free time with.”

He laughs and it sounds like nails scraping down an old chalkboard, “Looks like you’ve still got lots to learn about my dear, sweet, Eleanor.”

He goes to brush past me and before I can stop myself, my hand shoots out to grip his arm. He’s not a well-built guy, his bicep fits into my hand with room to spare, making it easy to keep him in place as I lower myself to his ear.

“I’ll tell you this just once.” I say with lethal quiet as he strains to remove his arm from my grip. “You keep her name out of your mouth unless you’re singing her God-damn praises, do you hear me?”

He lets out a small, pained sound as his hand shoots up to grab my wrist. He tries and fails miserably to remove my hand from his arm, face contorting with pain and shock as I squeeze harder.

“If I hear that you’re making her life harder in any way, you and I are going to have a problem. Do I need to repeat myself?”

“Is that a threat?” The hand he has around my wrist is starting to shake with effort.

“Oh, it’s a promise.” I say with a smile as I lean away from him, increasing my grip on his arm.

I want him to see the calm in my face, the promise in my eyes.

“Message received.” He hisses through clenched teeth, his face turning almost as red as his car. “Please.” He squeaks, wide eyes darting to where I’m still gripping his arm.

I release him, and he lets out a series of relieved pants as he retreats to his friends—who made the smart decision to stay out of our little conversation. He’ll have a bruise for the next few days, but I’m not certain he’ll want to go blabbing about our little run-in to anybody.

The bartender places the three glasses of light green liquid on the bar, and I slide a ten-pound note in her direction. I tell her to keep the change before heading to the other side of the bar, thanking my lucky stars that the girls couldn’t see the small altercation from the booth they chose to sit at.

I don’t want either of them to think I’m a violent man—I’m not, but a healthy dose of fear will sometimes work wonders for assholes like Peter.

The girls and I sit and chat for a while, the conversation travels from Wyatt’s prom, to bridle paths Ellie wants to ride over the coming weeks, to a family event that Sanya has coming up.

“Eight sisters?” I cough, trying not to choke on the cordial I just swallowed.

“And one brother,” She adds proudly, “But that’s nothing, Rory is one of fourteen! Next week my family are gathering for my youngest sister’s birthday and I’m so excited.” She gasps, gripping my hand across the table, “You must come! She doesn’t have a choice,” Sanya jerks her head in Ellie’s direction, “Have you ever had Pakistani food?”

“I can’t say I have,” I admit, “But I’d love to come. I think the boys said something about being in Dubai next week anyway.”

Sanya squeals and dives excitedly into details of the birthday party and the various dishes that we can expect to be served. I listen intently, but it’s a little hard to concentrate when I can feel Ellie’s eyes on my face. And when I look up to catch her stare, she doesn’t dart them away. Instead, she smiles warmly at me, and it feels like my heart does a little dance in my chest.