A/N: Hope you enjoy the next chapter!

Chapter 3

Over the next few days Sandor would come in around the same time, always ordering the same thing: a double-shot espresso and two chocolate croissants. Sansa couldn't help feeling a silly tingle of delight that he had obviously agreed with her assessment of Hotpie's pastry.

True to her word, Margaery would try to strike up a conversation whenever she served him, but to her immense frustration, and Sansa's secret amusement, Sandor would not co-operate. She plied him with the trademark Tyrell charm, trying desperately to draw out some information about him but Sandor would just fix his steely gaze on her and remain silent, other than to order his coffee.

"God, Sansa, he's harder to crack than Mount Everest!" complained Margaery as they closed up for the day.

Jeyne had similar luck, but then, she didn't ask as many questions and despite trying, she was too shy to attempt anything too personal. They doubted that the result would have been any different to Margaery's.

If she was in the shop on those occasions, she would look up from what she was doing and their eyes would meet before Sansa would continue what she was doing, trying desperately not to blush, but watching Sandor surreptitiously the whole time, mentally sighing over him.

This morning it was Sansa who served him, and she was so conscious of not babbling in front of him again, that she just took his order and proceeded to pour his coffee without saying a word.

"Not going to talk to me today, Little Bird?" he rasped in that sexy voice.

The shock of hearing him call her that almost caused her to scald her hand on the hot liquid.

"W-what? What did you call me?" She turned her head to see him peering down at her, definite amusement in his eyes now.

"'Little Bird', due to your habit of chirping," he replied with a smirk. "Though, you haven't said a word today,".

"I thought it annoyed you last time, and I don't want to annoy my customers," she replied, feeling somewhat miffed.

"So this is your café?" he asked, ignoring her remark. "You don't just work here?"

Taken aback that he had actually asked her a question, she had to collect herself before she spoke, in case she started rambling again.

"Yes, Margaery and I own it." Short and to the point.

Sandor nodded. "Good coffee," he remarked as she handed him the cup.

"Thank you. We pride ourselves on sourcing the best coffee beans we can get." As she bagged his croissants she felt his eyes on her, watching her every movement. It was unnerving as well as setting her senses into overdrive.

Handing him the bag, their fingers brushed against each other and Sansa's pulse raced. It was a fleeting touch, but she knew she would be daydreaming about it for days.

With a nod, Sandor turned to leave. On impulse, she called out, "See you tomorrow, Sandor."

His footsteps faltered at her voice. She didn't think he would say anything but he replied in a low voice, "See you tomorrow, Little Bird," without looking back.

She watched him walk out of the shop, taking in his broad shoulders and muscled back that tapered down in a 'V' to his hips. She noticed for the first time that he walked with a slight limp but that thought was instantly replaced by the sight of tanned, hairy legs as he strode out. There was no tool belt today, but that didn't detract from the view.

Sansa couldn't help fantasising about those strong legs supporting her weight as he took her up against a wall. She was imagining his lips moving down her chest towards…

"Sansa!" Jeyne's voice dragged her from her lustful thoughts. "Wow, Sansa! He actually talked to you! He barely says a word to Margaery or me. I think he might like you."

"Don't be silly," she replied, though in truth she couldn't help the butterflies in her stomach.

"That's the most I've seen him talk since he first came in here. And it was you he spoke to. That has to mean something, don't you think?"

Sansa wanted to laugh at the realisation that she and her friends were acting like kids at primary school with the 'I think Johnny likes you,' and reading into every little action or word spoken by said crush, except she wanted to do more with Sandor than just hold hands.

"I still don't know anything about him," Sansa pointed out.

"I think you're going to have more luck finding that out than we are," said Jeyne with a grin. "And he told you he's coming back tomorrow."

Sansa just grinned like a loon.

Margaery had been on her break when Sandor came in but she walked in with a smile like the cat that got the cream.

"You will never guess what I just found out!" she exclaimed as she joined Sansa behind the counter. Sansa just looked at her. "I found out where Sandor's working!"

"Where?" asked Sansa excitedly.

Unfortunately, a group of customers came in just then, so the conversation had to wait until there was quiet moment.

"So, where is he working?" prompted Sansa.

"Only three blocks away on a property being renovated," replied Margaery.

"How did you find this out?" asked Sansa, intrigued.

"I followed him," came the smug reply.

Once again, more customers came in so Margaery hurriedly threw out, "I'll come up to your place after we close. I'll tell you everything then and my idea," as she turned to serve them.

After closing, the girls picked up a pizza before heading up to Sansa's place. They got settled on the balcony with their food before Margaery revealed all.

"Tell me. How did you find out where Sandor's working?" asked Sansa, waiting impatiently while Margaery finished her bite of pizza.

"I was walking back to the shop this morning when I saw him come out with his coffee. I noticed that he walked away in the opposite direction, instead of getting into a car, so I decided to follow him."

"And he didn't see you?"

"No and I made sure I walked far enough back that I wouldn't look suspicious. Had to duck behind a car once when he turned the corner and looked in my direction but I don't think he noticed me."

"Are you sure? What if he did?"

"So? It's a public street. I was just walking, wasn't I?" replied Margaery, loftily. "Anyway, three blocks away he turned into a property being renovated that had all the safety fencing around it. I didn't get too close in case he did see me but now we know where he is during the work days."

Sansa nodded. "Yeah, but what good does that do me?"

Margaery just looked at her and shook her head in mock despair. "Sansa, Sansa, Sansa. What am I going to do with you?" She received only a quizzical stare. "Sansa, my girl, you are going to do what women have done for time immemorial." A dramatic pause. "You are going to stalk the man."

What am I doing?

Those words were repeating in an endless loop through Sansa's head a few days later as she made her way through the streets towards Sandor's worksite. And not just walking, no, but in disguise as well.

"Are you nuts?" Sansa had asked her friend. "What will that achieve?"

"God, you're so naïve," had replied Margaery. "Obviously trying the get any information out of the horse's mouth isn't working for us so it's time to change tactics. Now that we have a tangible starting point, you will go down there and suss out the lay of the land. There has to be some information about Sandor there. He's a tradie, isn't he? Well, he must work for someone. And there's more than likely some sort of signage indicating the company carrying out the work. If you find that out, we can go on the 'net and see if we can't find out his surname. Once we have that, we can see if he has any social media accounts. If he has a significant other, then there will surely be a picture of her on there. If not, well, we'll know we can ramp up the 'shag the sexy tradie' campaign then."

Sansa looked speechlessly at her friend. "You're dangerous. You know that, don't you?"

"When Willas was in the Army, before he was injured, he studied the art of modern warfare and often told us interesting facts when he came home on leave. And one of the roles that I was really interested in was that of the military tactician. I've appointed myself the military tactician of our little venture. Where one strategy doesn't work, a good commander will change tactics to achieve the desired outcome."

"So, Sandor is a military campaign?"

"On a small scale, yes," agreed Margaery with a nod. "We have an objective: Wild, crazy sex with the Sexy Tradie. And no military campaign will ever commence without all the intelligence gathered beforehand to determine the best course. So, you are going get as much intelligence on Sandor as possible. Starting with going down there and finding out his company's name."

When Sansa had protested that she would be too embarrassed to just walk up to the work site, Margaery had calmly stated that she should wear some sort of disguise.

Margaery was like a bulldog when she got something in her head, so here she was, her bright red hair bound up underneath a wide-brimmed floppy hat and wearing sunglasses that nearly covered her whole face walking through the narrow streets of Balmain to her destination.

Coming around a corner, she caught sight of the fencing that secured the property that Sandor was apparently working in. Not about to walk right up to it, Sansa ducked behind one of the cars as she gathered the courage to get closer. She garnered a suspicious look from an elderly lady walking her dachshund and she felt like going back to the shop right this instant.

There has to be another way. Maybe the three of us, along with Lommy, can pin him down next time he comes in the café and force him to give up all his secrets.

Balmain, being one of Sydney's oldest suburbs, had narrow streets that were normally filled with parked cars as many homes did not have garages, having been built long before cars existed. The suburb had originally been a working-class suburb, with a mix of formerly worker's cottages and terrace houses fronting onto the streets but over the previous few decades had become 'gentrified' and was now one of Sydney's most expensive places to buy. Being so close to the city and the Harbour, it was popular with young professionals, and the cars on the road reflected that.

Except for the one black, battered ute that was parked in front of and slightly on the footpath of the worksite. It was as large as that type of vehicle got before it could be classed as a small truck and stood out like a sore thumb amongst the smaller, shinier European and Japanese models that dotted the street.

It has to be his, thought Sansa. It was obviously a work vehicle, bits of timber overhanging the edges. From this distance, she could also make out writing printed on the side door. As there didn't seem to be any signage on the fence other than the obligatory safety warnings, she hoped that the writing would give some clue as to Sandor's identity.

Being a work day, and after Sandor's regular visit to the café, at this time there wasn't a lot of pedestrian traffic, much to her relief, other than the odd person walking a dog or mother pushing a pram, so she slowly made her way up the street, ducking behind each car as she got closer, in case he came out of the property.

Sansa realised that she would probably look less suspicious if she just walked up to the ute, but in a way, this was much more fun. It was almost like being a spy, imagining herself as Ros from the show she loved, Spooks, stalking a Russian spy with her partner, Lucas. She could almost hear the obligatory spy music in her head and had to stop herself from giggling at the absurdity of her situation.

The closer to the property she got, the more careful she was. Pulling down the brim of her hat, she would check that there was no-one coming from the property before moving behind the next car. If Sandor caught sight of her right now, she would want to throw herself under a moving car in embarrassment.

Finally, after what seemed an interminable amount of time, what with crouching, and then trying to make it look as if there was a reason for it, like checking the tyres, when someone did walk past, she stood next to the ute, but on the street side, not the curb, in case Sandor did come out.

Looking at the terrace house where he was working, it looked to be well in the process of renovation, with scraps of material littering the small front yard. The outside cement work had obviously been repaired and repainted as well as the delicate grille-work on the upstairs balcony railing, so Sansa assumed that whatever Sandor was doing to it was inside the house. The door was open but she couldn't see movement.

Being a narrow street, cars came worryingly close to her as they passed, so she took a deep breath, a final look at the house to make sure no-one was looking out and stepped onto the curb, phone at the ready to take a photo of the sign on the passenger door.

As she took the photo, a huge mass of fur and muscle lifted its head from inside the tray and gave one loud "WOOF", bad breath and faint drops of dog spittle hitting her face as she tripped over her own feet in her fright.

Sansa had always enjoyed the Matrix trilogy, especially the scenes where time slowed down as Neo ducked and dived to avoid bullets, bent back in impossible angles. Right now, she felt like she was in a really bad version of that movie and could almost see herself falling backwards in slow-motion, phone flying from her hand, hat being ripped off her head as she landed, glasses askew, red hair spilling out to cover her face, all the while being watched by a large, dribbling dog leaning out of the utility tray.

Breath knocked out of her for a few moments, everything seemed to stop for an instant as she wondered why she was lying on the ground and why all she could see was red and her glasses were half hanging over her mouth. Regaining her senses in the next instant, her only thought was to get out of here before anyone witnessed her humiliation.

"What are you doing, Little Bird?"

Looking up through the strands of hair, her eyes travelled up endless miles of tanned legs leading up to that, oh, so tempting tool belt.

Shit!

A/N: In case any of you need a translation of our Aussie terms.

Suss out - investigate, check out, etc

Ute - short for utility (we Aussies love shortening words). Utility vehicle - beloved of Aussie tradies everywhere. Think pick-up truck

Pram - baby carrier

'Spooks' - brilliant English spy series featuring my beloved Richard Armitage as Lucas North *swoon*