Chapter 20 #2
We eventually migrate into the warmth of the living room, where Sabrina has staged the couch: blankets distributed, candy decanted into a bowl, the good candles lit.
The evening settles into a rhythm that feels shockingly natural.
Cillian slots into our household dynamic with ease, trading quips with Sabrina and jumping up to top off wine glasses before I even think to ask.
It's the kind of domestic bliss I could easily see myself wanting every single night.
I'm tucked firmly against Cillian's side, warm and content, the rain washing steadily against the windows, when a violent metallic crash echoes from the back of the house.
We all bolt upright. Out on the back porch, curtains of water are sheeting off the roof. The gutter has wrenched itself loose from the eaves and is dumping a torrential waterfall directly onto the built-in cedar planters I just finished stocking on Sunday.
I rush to the window and press my hands to the glass, watching my brand-new dahlias get pummeled flat. "Oh my god, my garden!"
Cillian and Sabrina crowd in behind me.
"It's the omen!" Sabrina says, wide-eyed at my shoulder. "I told you the sandals were just the beginning."
I nod helplessly at my poor little plants. The planters are bolted into the porch frame. There's no dragging them out of the line of fire.
"I'll go sort it," Cillian says, already turning for the entryway and his boots. "Ace, do you have a ladder or a stepstool? And some tools?"
I catch his arm. "Cillian, you'll be soaked to the bone in seconds."
He glances back over his shoulder and laughs. "It's just a bit of rain, love."
I smile and fetch the folding stepstool from the pantry while Sabrina digs a few tools out of the junk drawer. A moment later he's out in it. The rain flattens his dark hair instantly as he balances on the stool at the edge of the porch, reaching up for the hanging length of metal.
The grey cotton of his tee goes translucent in seconds, clinging to the hard muscle of his back and shoulders as he works. God help me, he looks unbelievably good in the rain.
Focus, Margot. Now is not the time.
Sabrina and I huddle in the open doorway, a fine mist of rain cooling our faces. Cillian appears entirely oblivious to the storm, and Sabrina lifts an invisible microphone toward her lips.
"Here we witness the wild Irish male in his natural environment," she murmurs, deploying her most dramatic documentary voice. "Observe how the fragile Californians retreat from the downpour, while the hardy Irishman thrives in the torrential damp. Simply remarkable footage."
"Sabrina, this is very serious and my flowers' lives are at stake," I whisper, already giggling into my hand.
"Well, David Attenborough would approve."
With a low grunt of effort, Cillian heaves the bracket upward. The whole line of his body goes taut, heavy shoulders bunching under the soaked fabric and forearms flexing where his sleeves are shoved back. The wet shirt is doing him every possible favor.
"Oh," I breathe, the sound escaping before I can catch it. Sabrina snickers beside me.
"Control yourself, woman." She laughs, nudging my shoulder. "At least wait until I've retired for the evening."
"Shut up." My face goes hot instantly.
He gives the gutter one final, wrenching shove. The waterfall finally shifts, redirecting off the far end and onto the lawn, sparing my flowers at last.
"Alright," he says over the wind, wiping rain from his eyes. "It'll need a permanent fix once the sun's out, but that should hold through the night at least."
He knocks the bracket in with one last, solid strike of the hammer and offers a satisfied nod.
Sabrina leans toward me as he hops off the ladder, her expression going uncharacteristically soft. "He's a keeper, Margot. I think he fits in here just fine."
I look out at him, dripping wet and grinning as he makes a run for the door, and my heart feels fuller than it has in years. "I think so too."
"I missed you!" I gasp, practically throwing myself into his arms the second he clears the threshold of my front door.
He smells like that expensive Tom Ford cologne, spicy and masculine and entirely too intoxicating. He's been on the road for an away game and just flew back into town tonight, coming straight to my place. Sabrina is still out with Marco, which means I have the whole cottage to myself.
"Mm, I missed you too, Ace," he rumbles, pulling back just enough to catch my gaze before he captures my mouth in a deep, desperate kiss.
Desire pulses through me instantly, a heavy, aching need that leaves me lightheaded.
Every hour spent apart only seems to sharpen my hunger for him, and the prospect of finally having him back in my bed is making my knees weak.
His tongue sweeps against mine as he walks me backward into the house, his foot kicking the door shut behind us as he pushes me against the wall.
"Wow. I'd say you have exactly one thing on your mind," I pant against his lips as he starts maneuvering me toward the bedroom.
"Well, I have been thinking about fucking you since the opening face-off, if that's what you're asking," he growls, his hands possessive on my hips. "I think I ignored several traffic lights and maybe a few speed limits just to get here."
I let out a shaky breath and melt into him as he maneuvers us through the bedroom door. He backs me into the mattress and sinks down with me, his mouth returning to mine with a starving intensity. I want him so deeply it hurts.
"Wait." My hands come up to his chest, creating an inch of space. "Wait, Cillian."
He pulls back instantly, breath ragged, eyes dark. "What's wrong? Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," I say, feeling a sudden, ridiculous prickle of embarrassment. "It's just... ugh. I started my period while you were gone. I'm still on it. I'm sorry, I just figured I should mention it."
"Why on earth would you be sorry for that? I don't care, Ace." He reaches up to stroke my cheek, his expression softening instantly. "Do you need anything? A heating pad?"
I smile, touched by the concern. "No, I feel okay. It's day three, which is usually when the worst of it passes for me. I figured we'd just have to skip the actual sex, though, as much as I've been wanting it."