Page 21 of Playing Dirty
"I didn't realize you had a side hustle as a florist," I say as I climb back down the ladder. "What other talents are you keeping under wraps?"
"Oh, loads. Beyond my exceptional organizational skills, I'm also a great parallel parker, I make a life-changing grilled cheese," she ticks them off on her free hand, "and I'm a bit of a shark at darts."
I arch an eyebrow. "Darts?"
“Yep.” She nods. "I could probably make a living as a hustler, honestly, because no one ever sees it coming."
"Is that right?" I close the distance between us, that spark in her gaze making it impossible to look away. "Well, I'd love to see that in person."
Her blue eyes widen and a flush climbs her neck, andfuck, it's a devastatingly attractive look on her.
"Well." She clears her throat, suddenly very preoccupied with the wicker basket. "You'll just have to accept my word for it."
I smile at that and step back. Message received.
"Let me take that," I say, reaching for the ladder just as she makes a move for it.
“Thank you.” She shifts the basket to her hip. "The gardening shed is just around this corner."
We walk side by side through the grounds and I can't help but steal a few glances at her as we make our way to the shed.
She’s got that vintage pin-up aesthetic that is rapidly becoming my new kryptonite—impossibly sexy, adorably earnest, and a committed rule-follower with just enough bite to keep things interesting. I've always appreciated a woman who gives me a hard time, but no one has ever managed to get under my skin quite like she has.
And then there's the lingering memory of that brief glimpse of her black lace bra, which is haunting me like a ghost. Four weeks ago I had a one-night stand with a woman dressed like a dominatrix, and now I'm losing my mind over a sliver of fabric I barely saw on Margot, for fuck's sake.
"So, I happened to stumble upon that interview you did recently," she says, her tone sounding uncharacteristically cautious. "The one where you were discussing the... upcoming playoffs?"
"Aye, just the usual media obligations," I say. "Keeping tabs on me then, Ace?"
She gives me a sidelong glance. "I believe in being informed about our ambassador's public profile. But you do handle the cameras well, I'll give you that. Though even I could tell you were losing your patience toward the end."
I chuckle. "Oh, the whole British thing?"
She nods, watching me.
"Aye, it's a bit of a sore spot. Certain English reporters have this habit of claiming any Irish person once they start to do well. One good season and I'm suddenlyBritish player Cillian O'Rourke, like they've adopted me. If it's not malicious I let it slide, but I can always tell who's doing it on purpose."
"I'd say that's a justified grudge. Didn't the English occupy the place for what, several hundred years?"
"Eight hundred, give or take. We've still got a complicated relationship with them, if I'm being honest." I give a light shrug. "I've a few friends from over the water, but I draw a firm line at being called British or English."
"Fair enough," she says, a thoughtful look crossing her features.
We eventually reach a stone structure tucked away, framed by an explosion of flowers that makes the whole building look more like a storybook cottage than a simple gardening shed.
"This is the place," she says, gesturing toward the entrance.
I balance the ladder against my hip and swing the door open. "Wow. This is the most organized gardening shed I've ever seen."
Inside, every tool has its own labeled spot, rows of them neatly hung and sorted, the only two gaps the ones waiting on the ladder and shears in my hands. I fold the ladder down and slot it into its outline on the wall, then hang the shears on their little hook beside it.
Margot chuckles behind me. "José, our head gardener, is a perfectionist and an artist with the grounds. He runs a tight ship."
I glance back at her. "Sounds like someone else I know."
"Is that a polite way of calling me difficult, Mr. O'Rourke?"
"I'm saying you seem ridiculously competent and organized." I pull the door shut. "It's a compliment, Ace."
