Page 17 of Playing Dirty
José nods. "Yes, you can put me down for anytime that is convenient as you build the schedule. I'll be making a hearty soup so it's easy for her and her husband to reheat, and I'll figure out something different for the second slot."
"Perfect," I say, noting the dates on my iPad, absurdly pleased. Rosa runs half the events on this property with me and is due in six weeks, and by the time I’m through with this spreadsheet, she won’t have to cook until autumn.
Diane sighs, reaching down to pat Alfie. "Well, I'm—oh! Shoot, my button just popped off."
"Oh my gosh, I finally get to use my mini sewing kit!" I say, already digging into my purse.
I feel like I've been called to action by a higher power. Months of patient readiness, and my moment has finally,finallyarrived.
Diane blinks. "Mini sewing kit?"
José smiles, looking amused.
I nod as I produce the little plastic case. "Yes, I've got my Mary Poppins bag here, containing anything you could possibly need. I added a mini sewing kit months ago, but I haven't gotten to use it yet so I’ve been hoping for a sewing emergency."
"You wanted a sewing emergency?” She leans over to peer into my purse like it might contain a staircase. "What else is in there?"
"That information is released on a need-to-know basis," I say as I examine the button and the loose thread. "And yes, I half thought about tearing a seam on someone myself just to create a scene."
"Swoop in as the hero and all that," Diane says, shaking her head.
"Exactly," I say, threading the needle. "Sewing hero, at your service."
"You're one of a kind, Margot." She gives me the pitying look you'd give someone who is clearly insane but at least harmless.
"You mock me, but look whose button is—" I tie off the knot. "Good as new!"
"Well, thank you," Diane says, chuckling as she smooths the mended button.
“You're welcome." I hoist the bag back onto my shoulder. "Okay, you’ll both get the calendar invite soon so you can see the schedule. I’m off, so you can return to your flirting."
"I have no idea what you're talking about," they say, in perfect unison.
Alfie lifts his head at the sound, looks at the two of them with what I can only describe as weary recognition, and goes back to sleep in his patch of sun.
I leave them to it, my footsteps crunching up the path, and head into the building toward the tasting room, early enough that I should have time to catch my breath before Cillian arrives for our marketing briefing.
As I approach the door, though, I hear laughter on the other side. I check my watch and frown, then push it open to find Cillian already seated at the long meeting table.
He's leaned back in his chair, annoyingly relaxed and unfortunately quite handsome, while Janelle from the front desk fusses over the coffee station and Antonio, our cleaner, leans against the wall mid-laugh. All three of them turn to me as I come in.
"Margot!" Janelle beams. "We were just chatting with thelovelyCillian here."
Antonio's still laughing, wiping the corner of his eye. "He's a hell of a storyteller, this one."
"I wouldn't go that far," Cillian says, aiming a smug, dimpled grin directly at me.
I narrow my eyes at him before turning to offer the other two a polished smile. "Morning, both of you. Just don't let him charm you into anything you'll regret."
Janelle waves a dismissive hand. "Did you know he's got Italian in him? A great-grandparent on his mother's side. My parents are Italian American, so it's a small world, isn't it?"
"Oh?" I glance between them. "I didn’t know that."
Cillian's grin only widens. "Aye, I love Italy. The food, the culture, the passion—it's grand."
"That's great." I nod and drop into the chair across from him with a thump, setting down my bag and my iPad.
Antonio pushes off the wall, gathering his supplies. "I'm off to finish the west wing, but don't think you're getting away. Next time you're in, I want the end of that Rome story."
