My Ellie (The Perfectly Paired #1)
Chapter 1
Colton
“Good morning, folks,” The pilot’s voice crackles through the speakers as our airplane trundles down the runway. “The time is 8:32am and the weather here in London is a balmy 9 degrees Celsius. We do have some light rain in the forecast, but once that clears it should be a lovely day.”
I duck my head to peer out of the window to my left, wincing slightly as large raindrops fall from the dark, gray sky and hammer into the side of the plane.
“Lovely day my arse.” Jan, the elderly British woman beside me curses under her breath as she peers out into the rain. She pats my arm with the back of her hand, “Get used to this, Colton. The British weather is almost as miserable as the people.” She chuckles to herself as the plane comes to a stop.
If Jan is anything to go by, I think I’ll enjoy my time here just fine. From the moment we set off from Dallas, she chatted with me and asked me all about my trip to England. It worked wonders for my nerves, with this being my first flight and all.
If you’d have asked me three weeks ago where I thought I’d be spending my summer, the United Kingdom would have been the last place on my list. I’ve never left the US before, never strayed too far from the state of Texas, but after a series of... unfortunate events, here I am. Halfway around the world .
The seatbelt sign flickers off, accompanied by the sound of people rushing to stand from their seats. Excited conversations fill the aircraft, some tourists debate which landmark to visit first as other Brits debate where they parked their cars in the long stay parking lot. I hear a young girl tell her mom how excited she is to see her grandma again and it breaks my heart just a little bit.
My Meemaw is back home in Decatur, and I won’t be seeing her for a couple of months.
I let out a heavy sigh as I stand from my own seat and stretch my limbs. My knee twinges a little, but it’s felt a hell of a lot worse in the past. I follow Jan out into the aisle before pulling open the overhead compartment to retrieve her carry-on luggage.
“Aren’t you a dear.” She croons as I place her tiny suitcase on the floor and extend the handle into her grip.
Not wanting to hold up the line, I quickly reach for my own duffel bag and sling it over my shoulder as I make my way towards the front of the plane.
The air hostesses who have been tending to us for the eight-hour flight are all gathered near the exit, offering tight, weary smiles to people as they leave the aircraft.
Antonia, the hostess who was assigned to our section of the plane seems to perk up a little as she spots Jan and I approaching.
Antonia was real good at her job, she was chatty and extremely attentive to us for the entire flight. She’d brought us over three extra blankets because she said I’d looked chilly, and she’d also given us several extra dessert pots – she said they had extras they needed to get rid of. Jan and I had happily shared the chocolate pudding pots, but at one point during the flight, Jan gently grabbed for her hand and said, “We’ll press the assistance button if we need any more assistance , love.”
I give Antonia a smile as we approach, which she returns before running a quick hand over her tightly secured black hair.
Jan walks past the ladies, giving a small wave of her hand before exiting the aircraft.
I dip my head, keeping my hand on the top of the cattleman hat my father gave to me years ago. “Thank you, ma’am. You did a real stand-up job.” Antonia beams and I notice she’s not looking too weary or tired anymore.
“Enjoy your time in London, Mr. Brooks.” I notice the slight flush across her cheeks as I take my hand off my hat. “And my offer still stands,” She clears her throat slightly, “If you need a tour guide—or just a friend during your time here—I’d be more than happy to show you around.” She hands me a small, folded piece of paper before quickly retracting her hand and glancing around to the other passengers who are a ways behind me.
“Can we tag along?” Marlon, the only male member of the cabin crew, whispers from where he stands at the front of the walkway on the right of the plane. He earns a few giggles from the other air hostesses who then beam at me with red-lipped smiles.
“I appreciate that,” I give her a half smile, “I’m not sure I’ll have time for that, but if I do, I’ll be sure to let you know.” I dip my head once more before ducking to fit myself through the opening in the side of the plane.
I wasn’t lying—I don’t really know what the next couple of months hold for me, my schedule is a bit of a mystery right now. Antonia is a real nice lady, but there’s so much going on in my head at the minute and I’m not sure I have the time to focus on making friends—or being a good one.
I jog up the jet bridge to catch up with Jan just before she steps out into our arrival gate. She turns and jerks her head toward the bustling airport beyond, “Come on slowpoke, my husband moves faster than you and he’s dead!” Her chuckles fill the walkway and, despite the monsoon-like weather outside, I can feel a smile tug at my lips.
? ? ? ? ?
Jan and I split as we go through immigration, since she has a British passport and all, but she assures me we’ll meet at the baggage carousel and not to get too emotional just yet. She cracks me up, and between her and the kind air hostesses on the plane, I might be ready to admit that this trip might not be as bad as I was expecting it to be .
The zigzagging line ahead of me shrinks quickly, and before I know it, I’m face to face with an immigration officer. He skims through my passport, and I remove my hat before he begins asking me a series of questions. I respond with several y es sir ’s and no sir ’s before he flicks through my passport once more.
I’m starting to get a little anxious when he looks closer at the pages and adjusts his glasses. “Working visa, correct?” He asks without looking up at me.
“Correct, sir. I’ll be working at, uh, Tewkesbury Estate, for the Chamberlain family.” He already knew that, of course, it’s on my visa paperwork. He nods to himself as his fingers glide over to his keyboard.
After a couple more seconds, he abruptly sets my passport down and silently gestures to the strange looking keypad on the counter. “Fingerprints.” He says after a second or two. He wiggles his fingers and shoots a pointed look at the keypad.
I place each of my fingers on the pad, one at a time before standing back from the counter.
He watches me for a second while the fingerprints process and I take a silent breath as he reaches for a stamp and thwacks it onto one of the pages in my passport. His demeanor switches from stony to cheerful in 0.2 seconds and I’m almost taken aback by the toothy grin he gives me.
“Been working this job for twelve years and I’ve never met an actual cowboy before, you are a real one, aren’t you? I can proper tell, you look like you’re from a bloody movie set or something.” He grins as he slides my passport back to me.
I let out a strained chuckle as I gather my passport and pick my duffel up from the floor, more relieved than anything that he won’t be sending me on the next flight back to Dallas.
“Yes sir, I do believe I am a real cowboy. No cows in here though.” I pat my bag with a grin, wincing a little as my medication bottles rattle around inside. I nod my head in thanks before turning towards the bag collection area.
“Can I get a Yeehaw ?” He asks quietly just as I’m placing my hat back on. I stare at him for a second, unmoving, as I try to make out whether or not he’s pulling on my leg.
I decide that it would be in my best interest to play along, no skin off my nose even if he is just teasing me— I heard that British people have a weird sense of humor anyway.
I keep my hand on my hat and dip my head towards him. “Yeehaw.” I say with equal quiet, catching the way he presses his hands together in delight before I turn and head off to find Jan.
? ? ? ? ?
Jan is waiting by carousel 8, arms folded across her chest as she watches the empty conveyor belt. “They let you in then.” She scoffs with a smile as I come to stand beside her.
“Just about.” I say, still a little confused by the interaction I had with the immigration officer.
Luggage starts to appear on the conveyor belt, and I set to work retrieving suitcases for anyone who looks like they need assistance. Jan’s suitcase is one of the last to arrive, and by the time I set it on the floor, we’re among the only ones left in the baggage claim area.
She looks at me expectantly as I turn towards the arrivals area, her mammoth suitcase in one hand and my duffel in the other.
“No suitcase for you, Colton?” She asks as she follows next to me.
“No ma’am, my new employer arranged for me to ship a bunch of my stuff over a couple of weeks ago. It’ll be there when I arrive, hopefully.” I give her a smile. “Got all my essentials in here, though.” I hold my duffel bag a little higher.
We meander through the duty-free area, Jan mutters to herself about the price of the alcohol before we finally reach the arrivals area.
It’s like traveling from an abandoned mall into a bustling oasis of activity. There’s high pitched laughter and sobbing amongst the dull din of hundreds of conversations. Children shriek excitedly as they meet long-forgotten relatives for the first time, baristas and store attendants go about their tasks among the general commotion.
Jan spots her son in the crowd, the one she told me all about on the plane. He’s in his forties and still isn’t married, but she still has hope for grandchildren. She’s also 99% sure he’s gay, but is still waiting for him to hop out of the closet —her words, not mine . He waves to her unenthusiastically and does a double take when he spots me trailing with her suitcase.
Jan and I make our way past reuniting couples and large, tired families before we reach her son. She gives him a quick hug, during which his wide-eyes stay pinned to me, before she turns around and quickly introduces us.
“If I had a daughter, bugger me if I was thirty years younger, you’d be coming home with me.” She grabs for the sides of my zip-up hoodie and straightens them before patting them flat. “Good luck with your new job, don’t let any of those posh bastards get you down.” She points a finger at me in warning.
“Yes ma’am. It was a pleasure to meet you, both of you.” I look between her and her son, who is looking decidedly more at ease, before dipping my head and making my way to where a man in a three-piece suit is holding a sign that reads Colton Brooks .
I hear Jan’s son whisper, “Jesus Christ mum, I thought you’d gone and gotten yourself a seven-foot-tall American boyfriend, where the fuck did you find him?”
“Mr Brooks?” The suited man asks as I approach.
“Yes sir, that’s me.” I nod with a smile, feeling more than a little underdressed. “What’s your name?” I extend my hand to shake his.
He looks a little surprised, as if it isn’t a question he gets asked often. “I am Jonathan.” He accepts my hand, shaking it with a nod of his head as a small smile grows on one side of his mouth. He releases my hand as he continues, “Lord Chamberlain sent me to escort you to the Estate. If you’d be so kind as to follow me.” With a nod of his head, he turns on his heel and leads me out into the damp morning. Parked next to the curb, in the arrivals pick up area, is the fanciest car I’ve ever seen in my life. The windows are blacked out, the door handles look like they’re made of solid silver and there’s a winged logo on the hood.
“Wow.” I say under my breath as he opens the back door for me. One of the hubcaps probably costs more than my truck back home.
“You’ll find refreshments and other necessities in the back, courtesy of Lord Chamberlain. If there’s anything else you require, you can let me know at any point and I’ll be happy to assist you in any way I can.” He gestures toward the open door with his free hand, and I crouch down to fit myself into the surprisingly roomy back seat.
“Thank you, Jonathan, I really appreciate it.” I say before he can close the door.
He pauses, that half smile returning to his face as he says, “Truly, my pleasure, sir.” Before shutting the door.
Damn , I think to myself, British people are real nice .