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And her fucking lips matched her shoes.
Mother of God. I was bloody screwed.
“I considered beeping, but thought you’d end up telling my grandmother and I’d never hear the end of it,” I admitted. “You look…”
I wasn’t sure what word to use.
None of them seemed right.
Ellie glanced down at her dress. “It’s all right, isn’t it? You said it was quite posh and it was all I had. I’m afraid it’s jeans otherwise.”
“Beautiful,” I finally settled on, smiling. “You look beautiful, Ellie.”
A blush coloured her cheeks, and she briefly lowered her gaze. “Oh. Thank you.”
“Shall we get going?”
She nodded, and I moved aside so she could step out of the door and lock it behind her.
“Winston is inside, isn’t he?”
“Well, if he’s not, I assume he’s hanging out with the goats again,” she said blithely. “But last I saw he was attempting to corner a fly, so that’ll probably keep him busy for an hour or so.”
I checked my watch. “Check the barn before I lock the goats away for the night. Got it.”
Ellie dipped her head as she tucked her keys into her bag, but I swore she bit back a small laugh. “At least you’re not shouting at me about it anymore,” she said brightly.
“I never shouted at you.” I offered her my hand for the steps.
“Thank you.” She wrapped her small, soft fingers around my larger ones, and I carefully helped her to the bottom of the steps. “You did shout at me.”
“I don’t remember that.”
“How convenient.”
“Just like you happened to have a dress suitable for a nice dinner in your suitcase?” I asked when we reached the car.
She peered up at me, her hand still in mine. “I’m a woman. Why would I pack for a writing retreat when I can bring half my wardrobe?”
“Ah, so you anticipated a fancy dinner or a date, did you?”
“No,” she said slowly. “But I am an optimist, so it’s always worth packing something just in case. Worked out well, don’t you think?”
I opened the car door for her with a small twist of my lips. “I’m not complaining. But out of curiosity, how does it come off?”
“I haven’t decided if I’m going to let you find that out yet.” She flashed me a grin before she got into the car and peered back up at me. “Nice car. Do you drive this one everywhere?”
“Rarely.” I closed the door on her and walked around the bright orange Aston Martin Vantage to the driver’s side, fighting back a laugh.
“I feel special,” she said when I got in.
I clicked my belt into place and started the engine. “You should. Nobody’s allowed in this car.”
“So why am I?”
“Your hero is a duke. You want him to be some magical, swoony bastard, I presume.”
“That’s about right.”
