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.