A/N: Thanks for the reviews and follows. I hope you enjoy this instalment!

Chapter 2

There was a lull in the cafe, so Sansa was bent over, picking up a napkin beneath one of the tables closest to the door when she felt the rush of air as it was opened by a customer. Straightening, she stepped back, right into what felt like a brick wall.

A pair of hands grabbed onto her upper arms to steady her, but she was close enough to feel a hardness poking into her lower back. Her eyes widened in shock. That couldn't be what she thought it was, could it?

"Careful, girl. You'll do yourself an injury," rasped a deep voice, the Scottish burr instantly identifying its owner.

He's back! He's back! thought Sansa as her bones seemed to liquefy from the heat that emanated from his body. Unconsciously, she leaned back further into him, the hardness thrilling her with its salacious appeal before coming to her senses.

What was she doing? Molesting a customer? The heat bloomed instantly in her cheeks as she moved away and if she imagined that the hands holding her tightened fleetingly before letting go, she knew it was only part of her lust-fuelled imagination.

Turning around, she came face to chest with the tradesman from yesterday and this close up, his body was even more spectacular. The t-shirt he wore was thin from multiple washings and she could see the various ridges and dips of his chest and abdomen. A quick glance down confirmed that the hardness she felt had actually been his tool belt, not what she had feverishly imagined, somewhat to her disappointment.

Hastily looking back up, her eyes took in the thatch of chest hair that grew upwards to join with the neat beard that covered his jaw except where the burn scars were. Finally looking into his grey eyes, she saw a mix of amusement and something she couldn't pinpoint but it sent a thrill through her.

"I'm…I'm so sorry, sir," she stammered, attempting to get a hold of herself. "You must think I'm…"

"Sandor."

"W…what?"

"My name's Sandor, not Sir," he replied with a smirk.

"Oh! Oh, yes, of course," she nodded. "I'm Sansa. I'm so sorry, I didn't realise you were that close. I'm not usually so clumsy, I promise…"

"Can I get a coffee?" he interrupted her babbling.

"Yes! Oh god, what am I doing? Of course you can. That's what we are, after all, a coffee shop," she prattled nervously, as she hurried behind the counter. Jeyne had taken her break during this quiet time so Sansa was the barista on duty. Luckily Margaery was out meeting suppliers so she didn't witness Sansa's mortifying display.

"What can I get you?"

"A double-shot espresso," he repeated yesterday's order. "And I'll have one of those chocolate croissants."

"Of course, sir! And I must say that you've made a good choice. My friend, Hotpie, makes all our baked goods and he is a genius with pastry." She knew she was jabbering but she couldn't seem to help it.

The big man, Sandor, just looked at her as if she was slightly touched in the head before she realised that she hadn't even started making his coffee.

Oh god! Snapping out of it, she jumped behind the coffee machine, hoping the shiny chrome would hide her embarrassment. She had her long red hair tied up, as she usually did while working, so she couldn't even use that as a shield.

While she prepared the coffee, she could feel his grey eyes on her, assessing her. Probably wondering what institution I escaped from.

As the coffee poured, she got his pastry. "Make that two, if they're as good as you say they are."

"You have my word on that! I doubt you'll find a better chocolate croissant in all of Sydney. The pastry just melts in your…"

"Do you always chirp endlessly?"

That stopped her in her tracks. "Well…" Unable to say anything else, she simply handed over the coffee and pastries and silently rung up the total, Sandor leaving with a faint nod.

Moving behind the coffee machine, Sansa groaned silently as she put her head in her hands. God, he thinks I'm an idiot! One day, she could barely speak a word, the next she's prattling like a complete lunatic. At the very least, I could have asked him some questions about himself rather than carrying on about croissants.

When Margaery returned in time for the lunch-time rush, she noticed straight away there was something off about her friend. When questioned, Sansa denied anything was wrong, but Margaery was like a dog with a bone. She had a sixth-sense about these things. She discreetly, for her, asked Lommy if he knew anything but he had been in the back preparing for lunch, so he was no help. Jeyne didn't notice anything out of the ordinary, so Margaery was back to square one.

By the afternoon, her patience was gone. Lommy had gone home and there were only a handful of customers, who had chosen to sit outside to enjoy the summer's day, so other than Jeyne, they were alone in the shop.

"Right," said Margaery, "sit down." Unable to ignore the demand, Sansa sat at one of the empty tables. "What is up with you?"

"Nothing."

"Don't give me that. My bullshit detector is going nuts at the moment, and you know that's it's virtually infallible."

Sansa sighed. It was one of the things she hated about her friend at times. It was almost impossible to lie to her. "It's stupid, and I don't know why I'm feeling this way."

"What's stupid? What happened?"

"Remember that tradie from yesterday? The big one?"

"With the scars?"

"Yeah, him. Well, he came in today again while you were out and Jeyne was on her break."

"So?"

"I made an absolute fool of myself!" wailed Sansa, dropping her head onto her folded arms. After a few moments, she opened one eye to see her friend sitting there, totally befuddled. "First, I backed into him and I could have sworn for a moment that he was sporting an impressive erection but it turned out to be only his tool belt. Then I could not stop talking crap, I was so nervous, until he actually called me out on it. He's thinks I'm an airhead, I know it!" Her head went back into its cradle, hoping to shut out the world.

For a heartbeat, there was no sound, until Margaery's laughter broke the silence. Her peals of laughter rang around the shop, making Jeyne peer at her curiously.

"It's not funny!" protested Sansa. "I'm dying here!"

"Yes it is," replied Margaery, trying to get herself under control. "It's hilarious. I wish I had been here. I would give anything to have taken a pic of your face when you thought he had a stiffy."

"I didn't even know it was him, at that point. My back was to him. It could have been anyone," replied Sansa, starting to see the funny side now.

"How disappointing to find out he was only sporting a hammer, not a hard-on," deadpanned Margaery, before dissolving into giggles again. Sansa couldn't help but join in considering the absurdity of it all.

"What is it about this guy, that has you acting like a twelve year old with her first crush?" asked Margaery when they were both calm enough.

"I don't know!" At Margaery's look, she continued. "Honestly, I don't. He's not conventionally handsome but there's that body, and that voice. God, that voice! I just want to drown myself in it, and he's barely said anything other than to order coffee – and tell me to shut up."

"He didn't!"

"No, well, not in so many words. He has that effect on me, either I'm mute or I talk like a rabbit on speed."

"You have the complete hots for this guy, don't you?."

"God yes," sighed Sansa.

"So, you've got to find out if he's interested back," said Margaery logically.

"I don't know anything about him other than his name. He could be married or have a girlfriend, for all we know."

"What's his name?"

"Sandor."

"Sandor?" exclaimed Margaery, excitedly. "Sans, it's fate, can't you see?"

"What are you going on about?" replied Sansa in confusion.

"Sandor. Sansa. Your names are almost the same. If you got together I could call you "SanSan". How cute is that?"

"Stop it, you idiot," said Sansa, shaking her head at her friend's silliness.

"What are the chances of someone called Sandor walking into our little coffee shop, when there's a number around here he could have walked into instead. It's fate, I tell you."

"That doesn't change the fact he probably thinks I'm an idiot."

"You'll just have to change that impression. We'll have to find out if he's single, too. No point mooning after someone who's taken," said Margaery sagely. She then eyed her friend curiously. "So, you really don't mind the scars?"

Sansa shook her head. "Honestly, after the initial surprise, I didn't even really notice them today. I'd love to know how he got them, though. It must have been so painful, poor man. He's got gorgeous eyes though, and shoulders, and pecs, and…"

"I get the picture. What's a few scars when the rest is built like a Greek god?"

"Exactly. Still, I'm just being silly fantasising over a customer who's been in here for ten minutes, tops."

"Nothing silly about it, at all. I perv on customers all the time," Margaery said blithely.

Sansa laughed. "I know. You're such a flirt."

"What can I say? It's a gift." Sitting up with determination, Margaery fixed her eyes on her friend. "Ok, girlfriend, first things first. We are going to find out all we can about Sandor. Then, if all system's are go, you are going to seduce him."

Sansa spluttered in shock. "What the…?"

"Oh, come on! As if you don't want to roll around in the tool shed with that tradie," she scoffed. "You're almost like a bitch in heat."

"Marge!" gasped Sansa, not sure whether to be offended or not.

"You want that man in your bed or not?"

"Well…well, yes, but…"

"But, nothing," replied Margaery. "This is the first time I've seen you show interest in a man since I've known you, and it's not due to lack of offers. I've seen numerous guys ask you out. Why that Harry guy hangs off your every move. I think he single-handedly contributes to half our profits, he's in here so often."

"Ugh!" grimaced Sansa. "That creep."

Not long after the shop opened, a young man in a business suit had come in for a cappuccino and had dramatically stopped dead when saw Sansa at the counter. Spewing those lines that wouldn't even work in a pantomime, he'd introduced himself as Harold Hardyng and proceeded to ask her out, pointing out that he was extremely eligible and sought after. As if that would impress her. Trying to be polite to the customer, Sansa had declined as gently as possible. Unfortunately, Harry's arrogance had decreed that she was simply playing hard to get.

He became a pest to all the staff when he proceeded to come in every day they were open, repeating his invitation to the point that Sansa had threatened to call the police if he didn't stop harassing her. He didn't believe her, so Sansa had co-opted Jon to come in and play the heavy, hoping to scare the little shit. Jon put on a masterful performance, managing to look menacingly powerful, telling Harry that if there was another call put in to the station from the ladies of the shop about his behaviour, he would lock Harry up with the worst sexual predators who didn't care whether he had a dick or not.

Needless to say, Harry backed right off, still coming in for coffee, but not talking to the staff, just ordering and leaving. He still watched Sansa but as he hadn't crossed any lines, they didn't have a reason to barr him from the shop. He even tried to avoid having Sansa serve him as much as possible, something she didn't object to at all.

On occasions when Sansa had Margaery and Jon over for dinner, they would still laugh at the look of pure terror in the young man's face at the prospect of spending the night in a cell with some predator.

"Anyway," continued Margaery, "I'm just pointing out that men are interested in you, but you've lived like a nun, until now. It's somewhat refreshing."

"And you want me to seduce him?"

"How else are you going to get him in your pants?" asked Margaery. "So, you are going to practice your small talk when he comes in, flirt a little, find out little bits about him."

"I don't know if I'll be able to," groaned Sansa. "I just get all weird when I see him."

"Ok then. I'll try to find out if he's single for you. It won't look so incriminating if I do it."

"I'll help too, even though he's rather scary-looking," piped in Jeyne. The two girls turned around, having forgotten that Jeyne was in the room with them. "I don't know, I might be able to get some info out of him. Three heads are better than one, aren't they?"

"Bless you, Jeyne," smiled Margaery. "I think between the three of us, we'll get Sansa laid yet."

Sansa spluttered a laugh, shaking her head.

"So, Sansa, do fancy him banging you in nothing but his steel-capped boots?"

Margaery was the recipient of a well-aimed tea towel to head for that remark.