Page 65 of Playing Dirty
She laughs, peering over my shoulder at the racks. "Well, I love your organization. It's pretty similar to how I do mine. Loading a dishwasher correctly is a dying art, honestly. You should see how Sabrina loads mine. It's like she's never seen one before in her life."
"High praise, Ace." I slot the last glass into place. "Right, just these few and I'll run you back to your hotel."
"I'm sorry it's so far out." She winces, looking regretful. "Our hotels are on opposite ends of Dublin. You'll be driving nearly an hour. Honestly, I could just grab a taxi. Though, you'll need to tell me where we even are so that I can tell the driver."
"We're in an area called Beaumont," I say. "And not a chance. I'm not waving you off into a taxi at nearly one in the morning. I don't mind the drive at all. I find it relaxing, if anything."
That's precisely when Mam materializes in the doorway, looking very much like she's been lurking just out of sight waiting for her cue to intervene.
"Run her all the way across the city at this hour? Nonsense." She waves a dismissive hand toward Margot. "You'll stay right here tonight, love. Cillian's old room is already made up with fresh linens. Both of you look exhausted, and at this hour your hotels might as well be up in Sligo."
"Oh, I really couldn't take his room?—"
"Mam, honestly, we should probably head back?—"
"You can and you will, and I'll have no nonsense from you, Cillian." She shoots a sharp look at me before turning back toMargot with a warm smile. "He can have the couch; it'll build a bit of character for him. But he'll show you up to the room."
I glance at Margot, attempting to signal that she can decline if she wants.
"Um," Margot hesitates for a second, her gaze darting between us. "I suppose... why not? Iampretty exhausted. If you're absolutely sure I'm not being a burden?"
"Not in theslightest." Mam waves the very idea away. "And this way we can feed you a proper Irish breakfast before you head off in the morning. I'm certain I've a spare toothbrush in the bathroom, and I'll dig you out a fresh towel if you'd like to wash your face."
"That's incredibly sweet, and I'd really appreciate it," Margot says, her expression softening.
I narrow my eyes at my mam, who returns a suspiciously innocent smile. She adores Margot, that much is obvious, and she's caught a whiff of how I feel. I know she's scheming. She vanishes toward the linen closet, humming, which is never a good sign, and I turn back to Margot.
"I can still run you to your hotel if you'd rather, Ace," I say quietly.
She shakes her head around a huge, uninhibited yawn. "I am honestly exhausted. I don't mind staying, so let's just crash here."
I nod and finish the last of the dishes, and once Margot's borrowed a toothbrush and washed up, I lead her down the hall to my old room.
"Here it is. Sheets are clean." I push the door open and step inside.
She wanders in the small space, taking it all in, while I lean against the doorframe and watch her. She's wearing a pair of Saoirse's pajamas, and she looks so thoroughly out of place in this room, gorgeous and elegant against the backdrop of my fourteen-year-old self, that I have to bite back the urge to say something stupid about how strong my feelings for her are.
Her fingers trail over the old sports posters gone soft and peeling at the corners, then along the paperbacks stacked on every shelf and the row of dinged-up hockey trophies. She leans in to study one of the framed photos on the end.
"Oh my god! Is this tiny you?"
"Aye, that's tiny me."
"You were such a baby. Look at your little face." She picks up the framed photo, looking delighted. "Your dimples took up half your cheeks!"
I laugh and she sets the photo back, then settles onto the edge of the mattress, and I walk in to sink down onto the duvet beside her.
She gives me a small, slightly awkward smile. "This is so weird."
"It is a bit." I nudge her knee with mine. "I'm fairly sure my mam is actively trying to strand you here at this stage. She really likes you."
"Really?" she says, looking pleased. “I mean. That's sweet." Her gaze drifts over the peeling posters. "Although I have to say, the childhood bedroom aesthetic isn't quite doing it for me."
"No?" I raise a brow. "And here I was about to sweep you off your feet."
She laughs, her nose scrunching. "I'll do my best to hide the disappointment."
"Appreciated."
