Take the Chance (Top Shelf Romance #9) - Brittainy Cherry Page 0,110

seep in. And if it got too bad, I was apt to do something stupid.

I’m done with that shit, I told myself. I’m brand new.

I concentrated on the city as I walked. My neighborhood of Victorians quickly gave way to commercial towers and shops along Market Street, which I’d deduced was a major vein in the network of the city. Whole Foods appealed to my will to eat healthy, but Safeway appealed to my scrawny bank account. But as I perused the aisles with a basket on my arm, I decided I was better off finding a bodega. Supermarkets, like everything else in SF, were expensive as hell.

I rounded an aisle and crashed basket-first into my new neighbor, Sawyer.

“It’s you,” I said softly before I could regain control of my brain that had become momentarily paralyzed at the sight of him.

He’d changed from his suit to jeans, a hooded sweatshirt over a green T-shirt, and a baseball cap. He was pushing Olivia in a stroller, and the carry-space underneath was filled with fresh fruit and vegetables.

Up close, he was even more ridiculously handsome but tired. So, so tired.

“Oh,” he said. “Hey.”

“I don’t think we were properly introduced.” I stuck out my hand. “Darlene Montgomery. Your new upstairs neighbor who will not be—how did you say it? Prancing and jumping at all hours of the night?”

“Leaping and thumping,” he said, not smiling. He gave my hand a brief shake. “Sawyer Haas.”

For a moment, I became lost in the deep brown of his eyes and my words tangled on my tongue. I sought refuge with the toddler between us and knelt in front of the stroller.

“And this is Olivia? Hi, cutie.”

The little dark-haired girl watched me with wide, blue eyes, then arched her back and pushed at her tray with a squawk.

“She doesn’t like being cooped up for too long,” Sawyer said. “I try to get through this quick. On that note…” he added pointedly.

I stood up quickly. “Oh, sure, of course. See you back at the house.”

His brows came together and he frowned.

“That sounded weird, right?” I said with a short laugh. “We’re virtual strangers but also practically roommates. Isn’t it funny how two things can be so opposite and yet completely true at the same time?”

“Yeah. Weird,” he said tonelessly. “I have to go. Nice meeting you. Again.”

He pushed off, wheeling Olivia away, the sounds of her frustration trailing after. I heaved a sigh and watched him go.

“Nice talking to you.”

No, that’s good. Let him go. You’re working on you.

I perused a few aisles, filling my cart with cottage cheese, lettuce, ravioli and pasta sauce. I was reaching for a packet of coffee filters which happened to share space with the baby food when I heard a child’s fussing growing louder one aisle over. Olivia was on the verge of a full-blown meltdown. Below her screeching came Sawyer’s low admonitions asking her gently to hold on, they were almost done.

I bit my lip and scanned the colorful rows of brightly-colored baby food packaging. With a woot of triumph, I found a box of zwieback toast biscuits, and hurried around the corner.

“Hi, again,” I said. “I think maybe she could use a food diversion.”

“We’re fine, thanks.”

Olivia squawked loudly, as if to say, No, father of mine, I am distinctly not ‘fine.’

I bit back a smile. “Can I help?”

Sawyer took off his baseball cap, ran a hand through his loose, dark blond curls, then put it back on with a tired sigh. “She finished all of her strawberries and I don’t want to feed her a bunch of crap baby snacks.”

“How about one good one?” I held up the box of biscuits. “Talk about old school. I can’t believe they still make these. They’re like dog bones for babies.”

“Dog bones?” Sawyer took the box out of my hands and scanned the ingredients. Or at least I think he did—it took only a second before he handed it back. “Yeah, looks okay but…”

“Great.” I opened the box and tore apart the plastic bag inside.

“What are you doing? I haven’t paid for those,” Sawyer said, then muttered, “Guess I am now...”

“You won’t regret it.” I offered Olivia an oblong piece of the toast and she reached for it with one chubby little hand. “My mom gave my sister and me these things when we were little,” I said. “They take some serious slobbering to turn into mush, and that’ll give you time to shop.”

Sawyer peered into the stroller, which had gone quiet as Olivia