Page 36 of Playing Dirty
I can't help looking toward Margot. "So, I'm handsome and charming, then?"
She narrows her eyes at me. "I believe my specific phrasing referred to your marketing persona. You know, good for thebrand."
I chuckle and turn my focus back to Miriam. "Well, she’s been incredibly patient with my total lack of wine knowledge. Honestly, she’s been far kinder than I probably deserve."
I tilt my glass toward Margot, and she gives me a small smile in return. One that almost feels like it might be genuine.
"Miriam and I still catch up for tea in town every week," Margot says, clearing her throat. "I keep her current on all the vineyard gossip.”
"And lord knows there's no shortage of material," Diane snorts into her glass. "Between the estate politics and the drama in town, this valley has more subplots than a daytime soap opera."
"Is that right?" I ask. “I’ve driven through it on the way to the Estate, but I haven’t explored it at all.”
"Oh it's true." Diane chuckles. "The smaller the town, the bigger the headaches, I say. Everyone's knee-deep in everyone else's business. Why, just last week José, he's our lead gardener at Solstice, was the talk of the entire main street over a parking infraction.”
Miriam shakes her head. "Diane only complains about José because she's harboring a crush on the man."
"I am not!" Diane bristles, though the flush on her cheeks says otherwise. "He's stubborn and impossible to work with. Butyou, Cillian, really should visit the town. Though fair warning, if you spot a woman in an enormous purple hat, that's Mrs. Higgins, and she'll have your entire life story out of you before you've cleared the bakery."
"I'll consider myself warned," I laugh. "Purple hat. Evasive maneuvers."
"I just have to say Cillian," Miriam looks up at me with a twinkle in her eye. "You seem like a lovely young man, much like my own grandson. I bet you have to beat the girls off with a stick. Those poor things must spend half their nights dreaming about you."
Margot suddenly has a violent coughing fit into her wine. I blink, momentarily confused, and reach out to steady her, but she waves me off frantically, her face turning a deep shade of crimson.
"I'm fine," she manages, her voice sounding a touch strangled. "Just went down the wrong way."
I nod, still a touch concerned, but turn back to Miriam with my best smile. "That’s very kind of you to say, Miriam. My mam's always fond of saying that it takes a lovely person to see the good in everyone else.”
"I wouldn't go as far as sayingI’mlovely, I'm plenty of trouble when I want to be," she says. "I like to tell people I may be eighty-one on the outside, but in my head I'm still twenty and looking for trouble!"
"Miriam dealt blackjack in Reno for two summers in the sixties," Diane says, looking amused. "She counts cards. She's banned from the seniors' bingo in two counties."
"Allegedlycounts cards," Miriam corrects, patting her pearls. "Nothing was ever proven, dear."
The whole group dissolves into laughter, it’s impossible not to since Miriam's laugh is so contagious. At least until the doctor decides the group is dying for a detailed account of his latest surgical rotations.
It's clear the man can't stand not being the center of attention, even for a sweet older woman. The story is a bore, and I tune it out immediately, mostly because being this close to Margot makes it impossible to focus on anything else.
Up close, that red lace dress is even more devastatingly sexy. And standing this near, I catch the scent of her perfume, something darkly vanilla that has me very nearly on my knees, ready to do absolutely anything she asks of me.
But as the doctor drones on and I remain stationed beside her, my focus shifts from the dress to concern. She’s weirdly jumpy tonight, vibrating with nervous energy. When a waitersqueezes past us and my arm brushes against hers, she flinches as if I’ve just pressed a live wire to her skin.
I lean in, dropping my voice so only she can hear. "You alright, Ace?"
She nearly chokes on her rosé again, her eyes finally snapping to mine with a wild look. "Yes. Why—why wouldn't I be?"
I shrug. "I dunno. You just seem a bit rattled, is all."
"Oh, well," she says. "Large crowds, the gala expectations... it’s just a lot to coordinate, you know?"
I nod slowly. I've seen her flustered before, mostly during our disastrous first meeting, but normally she's the sort of person who can navigate any social minefield.
Our full team briefing last week was a circus, half a dozen big personalities all trying to talk over each other, every department with its own agenda. Margot held the whole thing together with a clipboard and a gracious smile, and every person in that room walked out feeling like they'd been heard.
But tonight, she seems entirely out of sorts.
Fuck. Maybe she's uncomfortable aroundme. I've been flirting with her pretty relentlessly, and maybe it's finally crossed a line she's been too polite to draw.
