Prentice opened the doors and they walked out to Jason declaring loudly, “You know, you two can snog in the kitchen. It’ll be sick but we’ll get used to it.”
Isabella’s eyes jerked to Jason and she tripped over her own feet.
Sally giggled.
Prentice drawled in a voice filled with amused sarcasm, “Thanks for your permission, mate.”
It was at that Isabella’s eyes shifted to Prentice who didn’t remonstrate his son nor did he explain that they weren’t in the study snogging (well, not exactly).
“Just being real,” Jason replied drolly.
“Oh my God, someone shoot me,” Isabella muttered out loud before she could stop herself.
Jason threw her a playful grin.
Prentice gave her a squeeze when they hit the kitchen right before he let her go.
Then he asked, “I don’t know. Can you still make cheeseburgers suffering from bullet wounds? Maybe we’ll shoot you after you make dinner.”
Jason burst out laughing.
Sally cried on a giggle, “Daddy! Stop being funny!”
It was too much. Isabella decided to ignore it all, cook dinner and then throw herself over a cliff.
She didn’t get the chance.
She cooked dinner, Prentice manning the deep fat fryer with expertise (thankfully), they ate it and she and Prentice barely finished the dishes when the doorbell rang.
Jason went to get the door.
Isabella was wiping her hands on a tea towel when Dougal, Annie and Fergus walked in.
“Ready, mate?” Dougal asked before Isabella could call out a greeting at their surprise visit.
“Aye,” Prentice answered, indicating from his ready response that for him this was not a surprise visit. With hands on Isabella’s hips, he steered her toward the hallway. “Get your bag, baby.”
Isabella glanced over her shoulder at him, confused.
Yes.
Confused.
Again!
“What’s going on?” she asked, stopping Prentice’s steering by halting while she looked around at the assemblage.
“We’re going to the pub,” Annie announced, scooping up Blackie and giving the kitty a cuddle. “Dad’s going to watch the kids.”
“Hurrah!” Sally shouted. “Fergus tells stories in funny voices!”
Isabella continued to look around realizing that her plans for the evening which she spent all day getting sorted, which included calmly, warmly, in a friendly, controlled manner, telling Prentice she was soon to be leaving and that their current (she couldn’t even think in her head what to call it but she settled on the word “situation”), situation could not continue, were being dashed.
“I didn’t know we were going out,” Isabella remarked.
“Forgot to mention it,” Prentice said with a gentle shove at the small of her back then repeated, “Get your bag.”
“But I –” she started.
Prentice interrupted her, “Bag, baby.”
It occurred to Isabella that Annie hadn’t returned her phone call. And Prentice “forgot to mention” he’d made plans for them to go to a pub, including arranging a babysitter who happened to be Annie’s father.
Then it occurred to Isabella that she was being played.
She slowly turned and glared at Annie who was trying to look innocent but who never was. Then she looked at Fergus who smiled. Then she looked at Dougal who didn’t look back, instead he studied his boots.
Yes, she was so, very being played.
Then she looked at Prentice and announced, “I don’t feel like going to the pub tonight.”
The hand Prentice had in the small of her back became an arm curved around her waist which he used to curl her into him, front-to-front.
“You will once you’re out,” he said. “Go and get your bag.”
Now, she wasn’t sure, but she was thinking she might be getting angry.
“No, I don’t think I’ll feel like it once I’m out,” she said slowly, looking up at Prentice. “I think I’ll stay in and listen to Fergus telling stories in funny voices.”
“Hurrah! Elle’s staying with us,” Sally shouted.
Prentice grinned.
Now she was pretty sure she was getting angry.
“Elle, baby –” Prentice coaxed.
Isabella opened her mouth to say something but didn’t get the chance.
“Come on Bella Bella,” Dougal called, walking up to them using the sing-song way he used to say her name decades ago, telling her back then that what he was saying really was “Beautiful Bella” as both words meant the same. “You two need a Friday night out and a drink.” He got close and his voice lowered so the children wouldn’t hear. “It’s been a tough couple of weeks, Bella. Prentice needs it, you need it. You know you do. Come out, down a few and relax.”
He had her at “Bella Bella”. She barely heard anything else he said. He hadn’t called her that in twenty years.
“I’ll get my bag.”
“Well, all right!” Dougal boomed.
Prentice gave her a squeeze.
She threw Prentice a glare.
This made him laugh out loud.
This made her glare turn to a scowl.
She pulled free from his arms, still scowling then she transferred her scowl to Annie who ignored it completely (as usual).
Isabella might be happy Dougal liked her again, liked her enough to sing-song her name and therefore felt the need for a celebratory drink at a pub but that didn’t mean she forgot she’d been played.
Deciding to have her drink and bond with Dougal but completely ignore her soon-to-be shoved off a cliff best friend and her… whatever Prentice was… she turned on her boot and went to get her bag.
Chapter Fifteen
That Path Led Home
Prentice
“Bye! Bye! Byeeeee!”
They were standing outside, Elle plastered to his front, her torso leaning to the side, and she was shouting and waving her arm fanatically at Fergus driving Dougal and Annie away.
Prentice had a grin on his lips, his hands on her hips and he was, with some difficulty, shuffling her backwards to the front door.
“Bye! Bye! Byeeee!” Prentice heard Annie call back in return, he looked over his shoulder and saw Annie was leaning her entire upper body out the back window and waving fanatically at Elle.
Elle started jumping up and down, still waving, and now shouting, “Hasta luego!”
“Hasta luego!” Prentice heard the now distant Annie return.
Prentice chuckled.
He succeeded in getting Elle through the door and once he did, she abruptly turned and headed into the great room.
“That was fun!” Elle exclaimed, her back to him.
He watched her walk to the kitchen while he mentally agreed with her.
Their night at the pub was fun. More fun than he’d had in years.
Twenty of them to be precise.
Fiona was social, she enjoyed going out and his wife had a wicked sense of humor that she used often.
But Annie plus Elle, when they were in a mood (and twenty years ago, they always were), were wild and hilarious in an infectious way that was beyond anything he’d ever experienced before he met them and since.
He turned to secure the door and switch off the lights, the events of the evening flashed through his mind and a smile came to his lips.
At first, Elle was cross at both Prentice and Annie. She ignored them totally and seemed intent on dragging every minute of the history of Dougal’s life for the last twenty years out of him.
She continued this through her first three vodka, lemon and limes which she consumed in less than an hour.
Through this time, Prentice enjoyed the show.
Annie, however, on several occasions tried to get a word in edgewise. When she did, Elle turned a cold shoulder to her or stared her down and, later when she was drunker, she actually put her hand out, palm up, an inch from Annie’s face.
At this (as with most everything Elle did in that hour), Prentice bit back laughter.
Annie’s eyes stared at Elle’s hand, her mouth dropped open, her face went red and she started to blow but Elle calmly turned, disregarding Annie completely and leaned into Dougal. She stared at him as if he was the center of her universe and asked breathily as if his answer would be the key to meaning of life something like, “And then, after you went to the chippie for the fifteenth time in the month of August in the year of our Lord two thousand and two, what did you do next?”
Eventually deciding her interrogation was over, Elle stood with her bag to go to the bar and buy her fourth drink.
As she did so, she pointedly continued to ignore Annie and Prentice, turned to Dougal and enquired, “Dougal, would you care for another beverage?”
Dougal, who had been keeping up with Elle drink for drink and had a few before they came out, replied, “Abso-fucking-lutely Bella Bella.”
As amusing as this was, at that point, Prentice was done.
Therefore, when Elle stepped over his legs to head to the bar, he leaned forward, caught her hips and pulled her off her feet and into his lap.
She let out a high-pitched shriek that brought the eyes of half the patrons of the pub their way, including, he noted distractedly, Hattie Fennick who wore an expression which was the epitome of someone who’d sucked a lemon.
He ignored the patrons, and Hattie (who routinely wore that look), because Elle twisted in his lap, put her hands on his chest and demanded haughtily (and loudly), “Unhand me, Prentice Cameron!”
He also ignored her ridiculous demand.
“When you’re out with me, you don’t buy your drinks, I do,” he declared.
“I think not!” she returned.
“Elle –” he warned.
“Pren –” she mocked his tone.
He grinned.
She stared at his mouth.
Then she blinked before she demanded, “Let me go, I’m thirsty.”
“I’ll get you a drink but only if you promise to drink this one slowly,” he told her.
“I can’t do that.”
“Why no’?”
“Because they’re yummy.”
Something about Elle saying the word “yummy” was unbelievably cute.
But even more unbelievably sexy.
In response, his hands travelled from her hips, up her back and one twisted in her hair.
“Even so, baby, you’re already pissed. You continue to drink like this, you’ll be rat-arsed or passed out in another hour.”
Her eyes slid away and she bit her lip considering this. Prentice watched with amusement as she struggled with her decision.
Then her eyes came back to him and she replied, “All right. I’ll drink it slowly. Passed out is not a good way to end an evening and I promised Sally pancakes tomorrow and I’m not sure I can make pancakes hungover.”
Then she did a pretend shiver at the thought of cooking pancakes hungover.
Prentice allowed himself a moment to appreciate her behavior and allowed his body a moment to savor hers shivering in his lap.
Then he used her hair to bring her face closer to his.
“You still cross with me?” he asked softly.
“Yes,” she answered without hesitation.
“Are you having fun?” he went on.
“Yes,” she answered, again without hesitation.
“Then why are you cross?”
“Because you and Annie played me.”
“Aye, we did,” he agreed with total honesty. “Regardless, the result is you having fun so why are you cross?”
Her face grew serious and it was such a departure from her adorable irritation that Prentice braced.
Her voice was as serious as her face when she answered, “Because I wanted to talk to you tonight.”
He realized then that she had all day without him. Even with the children around, she had plenty of time to twist that head of hers into making ridiculous decisions. And, from the look on her face, she’d made some ridiculous decision she was going to impart on him that night.
He was fucking thrilled he’d come up with the idea of taking her to the pub with Annie and Dougal.
He made a mental note, until he’d bested his challenge, not to give Elle the time to twist that head of hers into making ridiculous decisions.
But, for the moment, he had to stall.
“We’ll talk later,” he lied.
“When?” she asked.
“Later,” he repeated.
“Tomorrow?” she pressed.
No way in fucking hell.
“Maybe,” he lied again.
She watched his face. Then she smiled a heartbreaking, sad smile.
His eyes dropped to her heartbreaking, sad smile and he determined that the answer was really no.
No way in fucking hell were they talking tomorrow.
Finally, she whispered, “Okay.”
With some regret he transferred her sweet ass out of his lap into the booth beside him saying, “I’ll get your drink.”
Then he bought her a drink.
When he did so it was not lost on him that their intimate conversation had been watched by avid eyes, most especially Hattie who was still gazing at him openly, that sour expression on her face even though her husband Nigel was speaking to her.
By the time he returned from the bar, Elle had forgiven Annie and the night began.
As Elle promised, she drank this drink (and the ones following it) slower but the damage was already done. Elle was borderline smashed and Annie was in the room. Only one thing could happen and it did.
Madness ensued.
Therefore, the night included Annie challenging Prentice and Dougal to a team dart competition with Elle being Annie’s partner.
And Elle was hopeless at darts.
In three games she barely hit the dart board no matter how much Annie coached her which was a great deal, all of it misguided and most of it drunken but it was, nevertheless, coaching.
Annie and Elle found Elle’s ineptitude screamingly funny and spent most of their time in fits of laughter, doubled over, their arms wrapped around their middles. Whilst they did this, Prentice and Dougal stood grinning at them, coaxing them to get on with the game or assuring other patrons that neither Elle nor Annie was under the influence of illegal substances.
After one throw where Elle took five minutes to line up her shot, the tip of her tongue at the side of her mouth, her eye squinting down the dart, her mouth eventually assuring Annie with mistaken confidence, “I think I’ve got it this time,” (and then she embedded the dart in the wall beside the board) that Annie laughed so hard she fell into Elle who fell into Dougal who managed, miraculously (since he was also laughing), to keep them all standing.
After the dart game and another vodka, lemon and lime for Elle and some very animated but completely incomprehensible discussion between Annie and Elle about “recycling outfits”, the night also included Elle suddenly and bizarrely shouting across the pub, “You are my new favorite person!” when Gordon Taggart walked in.
She then hurried across the pub (under the watchful, interested eyes of most of the patrons) and gave Gordon a huge hug.
When Prentice sauntered to them and extricated the astonished Gordon from Elle’s tight embrace, she explained to Prentice, “Gordon tried to save Sally and me from the big, bad paparazzi today.”
This was news to him and not good news.
Therefore, Prentice turned his now unamused gaze to Elle. “You didn’t tell me you saw photographers today.”
She took in his expression, bit her lip and then leaned into Gordon and whispered loudly, “Whoops.”
In turn, Gordon leaned into Elle and advised, “Probably should tell him when the vultures are circling, lass.”
Gazing at Gordon as if he was a renown sage, Elle nodded before she shared, “I got caught up in cookie baking, ironing and hamburger meat and I forgot.”
“I just had an idea!” Elle cried suddenly and latched onto Gordon’s arm. “You need to come over for hamburgers!”
Gordon chuckled before he replied, “I’d like that.”
“Okay!” she agreed eagerly and put her hand to her ear, thumb and forefinger extended like a phone, the finger of her other hand pointing back and forth between her and Gordon as Prentice (now back to amused) pulled her away and she assured, “I’ll call you.”
Gordon smiled at Prentice but spoke to Elle, “Look forward to it, lass.”
Elle turned and let Prentice guide her to their table as she said, “He has a cute dog.”
“The collie Sally mentioned,” Prentice guessed.
“You betcha,” Elle replied, threw herself into the booth, grabbed her drink, sucked a healthy sip through her straw, slammed her glass back down and turned to Prentice who’d seated himself beside her. She slapped a hand on his chest and leaned close, declaring, “Sally needs a dog.”
Prentice slid his arm along her waist and smiled before he replied, “Sally does no’ need a dog.”
“She so needs a dog,” Elle returned.
“She’s no’ getting a dog,” Prentice stated.
Elle turned her head to Annie but left her body leaned close to Prentice and called in reinforcements, “Annie! Does Sally need a dog?”
Immediately, head bobbing wildly, Annie concurred with her friend, “Sally so needs a dog.”
Dougal grinned at Prentice.
Prentice sighed.
Then he repeated, “She’s no’ getting a dog.”
Elle’s head twisted back to face him. “But she wants a dog.”
“She wants a horse, a trip to Harrods and to be a princess too.”
He watched as Elle’s eyes drifted over his shoulder and she whispered, “I could do that.”
And she could.
Christ, he was fucked.
His arm gave her a squeeze as his voice gave her a warning, “Elle –”
Her eyes came back to his. “All except the princess part.”
“You aren’t buying her a horse.”
“Okay,” she relented. “Maybe not the horse. You live on a cliff. Horses don’t do cliffs.” Her eyes went unfocused and she finished on a mutter, “I don’t think.” Then she turned to Annie again and called, “Hey Annie, do horses do cliffs?”
Ghost 05 - Fairytale Come Alive Page 28