A/N: Thanks to all of you who have reviewed, followed and favourited. I hope you like this installment.

Chapter 4

Shit! Crap! Crap! Shit!

The very thing she didn't want to have happen, happened. Lying there like a useless ragdoll, the bemused face of the man she was in lust with looking down at her and a monster of a dog staring and dribbling and probably wondering if she would make a good snack. Her mortification was complete.

"Are you ok?" Sandor's gruff voice was laced with a mix of amusement and concern.

How the hell do I explain this one away? Excuses and explanations raced through her head, each one more lame than the next. I know! Deflect! That's it. Act like lying on the pavement in the middle of the day is something you do every day.

"Sandor! Hi! Fancy seeing you here!" she exclaimed brightly, the words coming out muffled due to her enormous glasses obstructing half her mouth.

One eyebrow raised, Sandor bent down to help her up. Removing the glasses, she sat up abruptly as she pushed her hair from her face and cried out in pain when her head connected with his jaw. What was it made out of anyway? Steel?

"Fuck! Sorry about that. Not your day, is it?" he murmured.

Scrambling awkwardly to her feet, all thoughts of pain fled as she felt his large, warm hands circle her waist as he all but lifted her to her feet. She imagined she could feel every single calloused finger through her t-shirt. She also felt the twinge of some bruises that would surely show up in the next few days.

Though her humiliation seemed worth it if it meant she got Sandor's hands on her.

"No, it's my fau…"

Looking up in something of a daze and rubbing the sore spot on the top of her head, she came face to face with the brown-eyed stare of the beast in the ute.

WOOF!

"Shut up, Stranger!" growled Sandor, his grip tightening as Sansa stumbled back in fright. "She's not going to hurt you."

Amidst the pounding in her ears and pulse at Sandor's touch, his words filtered through. "Me? Hurt him?" she asked, looking back up into his eyes. He was so close she was near to swooning. He smelled so manly. A mix of deodorant, wood and something indefinable. She took as deep a breath as possible without making it obvious she was sniffing him.

"Yeah, he's a wuss. A big, scary-looking wuss," he replied, staring back at her. Help!

"Is he yours?"

"Yeah."

"What breed is he? He's so big." Like his owner.

"Bull Mastiff. He's nothing but a big boofhead under all that muscle and fur. Aren't you?" he called out affectionately to his dog. Stranger's tongue lolled out as he wuffed and huffed in pleasure at his master's attention.

Sandor seemed to suddenly become aware that he was still holding onto her waist and he abruptly let go, much to Sansa's disappointment. Stepping back, he bent down to pick up her phone, and she had to resist the urge to run her hand over the rippling muscles in his back.

"It doesn't look damaged," he commented as he stood and handed her the phone. "You were lucky. What…"

Sensing he was about to repeat his initial question, Sansa frantically thought, deflect, deflect, deflect. "Are you working in this house?" she asked, pointing at the building. "What do you do?"

Sandor looked at her, his grey-eyed gaze boring into her as if he knew what she was doing but he went with it anyway. "Yeah. I'm renovating the inside. Mainly the woodwork but some of the other stuff, too. I'm a carpenter by trade."

"Do you work for yourself?" she asked, elated that she was getting him to talk this much.

He pointed towards his ute. "Like you, I like to be my own boss. Just my partner, Bronn, and me."

Sansa read the signage on the ute. 'Three Hounds Classic Home Renovations' was written on it with a phone number. "Your partner? Business partner?" Oh god, if he was gay, she would shrivel up and die.

Sandor looked at her for a moment before bursting out laughing. Great big guffaws. To the point where he bent over holding his stomach. Settling down to just chuckling, he shook his head. "Bronn's pretty good-looking, I guess, but he's just not my type. I prefer my partners to be of the feminine persuasion, Little Bird."

In for a penny, in for pound, as the saying goes. "I bet your wife is happy about that!" she quipped, mentally crossing her fingers.

"No wife or girlfriend. Just boofhead over there," he replied, pointing at Stranger.

Sansa could have fallen flat on the ground again in relief. He's single! He's single! YAY, he's SINGLE! Trying to hide the roiling emotions whirling inside, she smiled at the dog. "He's lovely. Do you always bring him to work with you?"

Sandor shook his head. "No, not very often. He was just looking a little off-colour this morning so I thought I'd bring him with me to keep an eye on him. I'm leaving soon anyway," he replied, eyeing his dog thoughtfully.

"Oh, poor thing. I hope he's feeling better," cooed Sansa as she smiled at Stranger. "Do you think I could pat him?" She liked dogs, but hadn't had one since her dog, Lady, died from old age a few years ago. And if it made getting into Sandor's work shorts easier, well…

"Sure," he replied, moving toward the ute. "Stranger, this is Sansa. She makes great coffee, so be nice."

Sansa laughed as she stepped forward, holding out her hand. Stranger sniffed her hand eagerly, before giving it a wet, sloppy lick. "Hello, boy. You're not so scary after all, are you?" she cooed as she reached up and pet his head. The dog seemed to grin at her words, his body trembling in pleasure at the attention he was receiving. "No, you're a sweetheart, aren't you?"

She didn't notice the keen look Sandor was giving her, intent as she was on the dog. Giving him one last pat, she stepped back and turned to Sandor. "Well, I'd better get back to the cafe before the lunch crowd starts."

"Why were you in the area?"

Oh crap! Think Sansa! "Oh, ah…um…err…I…I was…um…canIhaveyourbusinesscardasmymumisthinkingofrenovatingherhouse?" she blurted out, mentally giving herself a facepalm.

Sandor frowned in confusion. "What was that?"

"Do you have a business card? My mother was thinking of renovating and maybe she can contact you for a quote." Sansa had no idea if that was the case, but, whatever.

He didn't look convinced and he had to have noticed her blatant evasion of his original question but he still nodded. "Yeah, sure. Let me get one from the ute." Unlocking the passenger door, he leaned in as he searched, giving Sansa an excellent view of those tight bum cheeks. Like peaches she could sink her teeth into. Much too soon for her liking, he straightened, handing her a slightly battered card.

"Bronn generally carries them as he does most of the quoting but he's not here today," he explained, handing it over.

Not wanting to risk getting questioned again, she quickly grabbed the card and put it in her pocket, intending to study it intently once she got a chance. "Thanks. Gotta go, Sandor. Bye Stranger. Be a good boy, ok?" She took a couple of paces before turning back. "See you in the café, Sandor?"

He nodded. "Have those croissants ready for me, Little Bird."

She smiled at him. "Definitely."

With a wave, she walked back toward her café, elation zipping through her. Disaster had turned to triumph.

Sandor stood and watched her the whole way until she was no longer in sight.

Before re-entering the café, Sansa raced upstairs to her place to quickly get changed. The cream coloured crop pants she wore had come off second best to the bitumen pavement. Running a brush through her hair to put it in a ponytail, she winced as the bristles scraped over the slight bump where her head had connected with Sandor's jaw.

Leaning toward the mirror, Sansa could see the faint redness right at the hairline. How could someone's head be so hard? That thought naturally led onto what other parts of his body were hard.

Daydreaming, she imagined what he would look like in his underwear. Someone that size had to be sporting an impressive package, didn't they? What kind of underwear did he wear? Briefs, boxers or boxer briefs? Did he go commando? She really didn't care because ultimately, she wanted him out of them anyway.

When she noticed her breathing become slightly laboured and felt the tingling in her nether regions, she shook herself out of it. She still had to get back to work.

Wait until she told the girls what had happened!

Quickly pocketing Sandor's business card, she locked up and raced downstairs to the café.

It was starting to fill up with the usual lunchtime crowd, so Sansa wasted no time getting behind the counter. At Margaery's questioning look, she mouthed 'later' before turning to smile at the next customer.

Finally, as it was getting near closing, the two girls stood behind the counter cleaning. Unable to wait a moment longer, Margaery blurted out, "How did you go?" Jeyne, who was wiping down tables looked up, equally interested.

Sansa smiled smugly before producing the business card with a flourish. "Ta da!"

Margaery squealed while Jeyne raced back to the counter in curiosity. "Show me, show me," she cried, grabbing at the card.

The three stood, heads together as they peered down at the dark yellow business card. It had three black hounds, the type you would see in medieval heraldry, along the top and underneath was the business name, 'Three Hounds Classic Home Renovations.' Beneath those words, they hit the jackpot. 'Sandor Clegane and Bronn Blackwater', followed by the business number.

"Sandor Clegane!" breathed Sansa dreamily. "I love it."

Margaery looked at Sansa in astonishment. "How…how did you get your hands on this? You didn't break into his car or something, did you? You were only supposed to take a photo…"

"No, silly," giggled Sansa. "That would be going too far, don't you think? Besides, his dog would have probably eaten me alive if I'd tried that." Sorry Stranger, she thought, a little guiltily.

"What dog?" asked Jeyne, eyes round with curiosity.

"Listen, how about you guys come upstairs after we close and I'll tell you the whole sordid story," suggested Sansa with a laugh.

She was bubbling on the inside. She couldn't help it. Her humiliation had turned to triumph.

And he was single!

Using what she had in the pantry, they cobbled together some dinner and Sansa cracked open a bottle of her favourite sweet wine, a Brown Brothers Pink Moscato, pouring each girl a generous drop.

As she told her tale, the other two were in hysterics. Jeyne was holding her stomach and Margaery had her head in her hands, her body shaking from laughter.

"Oh god!" she choked out between guffaws. "Why was I not there? What must he have thought to see you lying there on the ground?"

"Good thing you weren't wearing a dress," giggled Jeyne. "He really would have seen what was on offer then."

"I know! All I could think of was how I was going to explain me being flopped in front of his car like a drunk jellyfish," laughed Sansa. It was hilarious now, not so much at the time.

"He didn't ask?" said Margaery, taking another gulp of her moscato between lingering giggles.

"Yeah he did, but somehow I managed to deflect and he didn't push it, thank god. I think between me nearly breaking his jaw and asking if he was gay, he probably thought it wasn't really that important."

There was silence before Jeyne gasped. "You…you asked him if he was…gay?"

"Not in so many words," replied Sansa. "I asked if this Bronn was his 'business' partner."

"How did he take it?" asked Margaery, fascinated. "He never gave me those vibes at all."

"He laughed," shrugged Sansa. "Uncontrollably. Then I may have asked about a wife." She pretended to study her nails.

"And?"

"Aaaaaand," she grinned at her friends. "He's single, ladies!"

With a whoop, the girls hopped up, grabbing Sansa and jumping up and down on the spot in a huddle.

"This calls for more wine," declared Margaery. Sansa grabbed another bottle from the fridge, refilled their glasses and waited as Margaery prepared to make a toast. "To Sandor Clegane, hot tradie and object of Sansa's erotic dreams. May he remain single long enough for Sansa to rip that tool belt off that ridiculously well-built body and shag him in every way known to man or woman kind, and even make up some new positions, hitherto undiscovered, until neither can walk straight. Cheers!"

"Cheers!"

Falling back onto the sofa, the girls grinned at their silliness and Sansa felt a huge rush of affection for the two of them, grateful to have such good friends.

"Let's see if he's got any social media accounts!" suggested Margaery. Sansa grabbed her laptop and they huddled around the screen as they loaded Facebook, Instagram and Tumblr to begin with.

Their search didn't yield any results under Sandor's name. "Not much for this sort of thing, huh?" commented Jeyne.

"Let's try under his company name," said Margaery. "He's bound to have that. It would be madness not to, these days." Margaery's other brother, Loras, had set up their website and both Margaery and Sansa ran their Facebook and Instagram accounts. It was the way of advertising in this day and age.

They googled Sandor's company and a surprisingly slick webpage opened up. It contained a number of pictures of previous works, as well as testimonials from satisfied customers. There were no pictures of Sandor, though, much to Sansa's disappointment.

His Facebook page was more of the same. They searched through his 'Friends' list but it was mainly other companies and suppliers, nothing personal. It was quite frustrating. How was Sansa to know what he was in to if he didn't put anything onto his status?

His Instagram page was a bit more helpful. As well as the pictures of his past renovations, there were also pictures of Stranger and a couple of another man, similarly dressed in work clothes.

"He's cute," commented Margaery. "Must be Bronn and he's probably the one that looks after the page. Oh, look!"

There was a picture of a room in the middle of renovations, drop sheets on the ground, as well as ladders and wires dangling from ceilings. What caught their attention was Sandor, wearing goggles and protective gloves, bent over a bench saw, pushing on a large piece of timber. His hair was tied back, exposing the long column of his throat. It was his arms, though, that Sansa fixated on. They looked slightly sweaty and the muscles bulged as he held onto the timber, the material of the short sleeves strained to breaking point.

Another picture nearly made her choke on her own saliva. Sandor was carrying some timber and he must have overheated because he had taken off his shirt and tied it around his hips, leaving his torso bare. All bulging, hair-covered chest exposed. Unsurprisingly, this photo had more 'likes' than most of the other ones combined.

Oh my!

"Very nice," said Margaery, Jeyne nodding in agreement.

"I'm screen-shotting that," breathed Sansa, fanning herself with her t-shirt. This picture would definitely be her favourite when she lay in bed, thinking of her hunky tradie, and needing to release some of the tension those thoughts caused.

The girls left soon after, Sansa heading to bed after clearing up and taking a quick shower. She pulled up Sandor's picture as her hand crept down into her underwear. Looking at his chest and arms and thinking of his hands touching her, it didn't take long for her body to clench in pleasure, his name released on a sigh as she climaxed.

That night, she had the best sleep she'd had in ages.