Take the Chance (Top Shelf Romance #9) - Brittainy Cherry Page 0,122

and caught a whiff of Darlene’s perfume and the faint scent of massage oil.

“Call for any reason,” I told her and hurried to the door. “I’ll be back in an hour and a half. Two, tops.”

“No problem,” Darlene said. “We’re good, aren’t we, sweet pea? Say bye-bye to Daddy.”

“Bye-bye, Daddy,” Olivia said from where she was securely fastened to Darlene’s slender hip, both of them smiling at me and waving.

My stupid perfect memory took a snapshot of that too.

Chapter 8

Sawyer

My competition, Roger Harris, stood at attention outside the judge’s office at the Superior Courthouse, looking impeccable and put-together while I flew in with sweat slipping between my shoulder blades and my tie flying over my shoulder. I’d made it with a minute to spare. Roger glanced at his watch and gave me a smug nod in greeting.

In his office, Judge Miller went over our Hastings curriculum progress, results from latest finals, and read the mock briefings he’d assigned us since the last meeting a month ago.

Judge Jared Miller was a kind man but he never gave compliments or reprimands; his poker face was legendary in and out of the courtroom. He nodded with equal fervor—hardly any—at both Roger’s and my progress.

“Your final assignment before I make my decision,” Judge Miller said, regarding us both. “Write a brief regarding a personal incident in your lives and how you would handle it as prosecutors. That’s it. Until next month.”

I blinked then eased a breath. I’d been expecting something difficult, but this was easy. I knew already what I’d write about and what I’d say.

My mother. I’ll write about my mother.

“Mr. Haas, may I speak to you a moment?”

Roger’s eyes flare in panic before he recovered himself. I returned his smug smile earlier with my own. “Of course, Your Honor.”

Judge Miller sat behind his desk without his black robe looking less like an acclaimed federal judge and more like a grandfather. Framed photos of his family lined his desk and hung on the walls beside degrees and honors from various universities. An 8x10 of what looked to be a granddaughter the same age as Olivia, shared wall space with a certificate of appreciation from the San Francisco Police Officers Union. He’d removed his tie and loosened his collar, then sat back in his seat, regarding me.

“Your finals are in the next two weeks,” he said.

“Yes, Your Honor.”

“No real chance you won’t pass with flying colors.”

“I hope not, Your Honor.”

“And you’re registered for the bar in Sacramento next month.”

I nodded. It had cost me a small fortune and I’d had to tutor other law students after Livvie had gone to bed for two weeks but I did it.

“All set.”

He nodded. “I like you, Mr. Haas. I think you’re a brilliant lawyer.”

I fought to keep my face neutral. “Thank you, Your Honor.”

He’s made a decision. He’s going to give it to me. Holy shit, all that work and struggle and long nights.

“On paper,” he said.

My body stiffened. “Thank you.” It almost came out sounding like a question.

“Your brief today was impeccable; not a precedent missed, every argument meticulously researched. It was better than Mr. Harris’s in that regard. But do you know what his briefing had that yours lacked?”

“No, Your Honor.”

“Life.”

I frowned. “I don’t understand…”

“You have a little girl, do you not?”

“Yes. Thirteen months old.”

Judge Miller smiled and inclined his chin at the photo on the wall. “My granddaughter, Abigail, is about that age. She’s a joy.” His smile tightened. “I want to give you the clerkship, Mr. Haas, but if I had to choose today, I would pick Mr. Harris.”

My galloping heart stopped and plummeted to my knees. I straightened my shoulders, determined to take this like a man, but my mouth had gone dry.

“I’m sorry, Your Honor,” I managed. “I don’t understand.”

“As I said your brief was impeccable. Scholarly and purely academic. Which is understandable as you are an academic at this stage.” He leaned his arms on his desk, fingers laced. “In the course of preparing this brief, did you consider Johnson v. McKenzie?”

I scanned my mental catalog and pulled up the case.

“That was…an appeal,” I said, mentally reading. “The defendant’s sentence was reduced due to good behavior and programs completed during prison time. I don’t see how that’s relevant…”

“It’s relevant,” Judge Miller said, “to a brief concerned with the overcrowding of prison populations. You argued, strongly I might add, for the strict use of mandatory sentencing and unequivocal upholding of the Three Strikes law.”

“Yes, Your Honor,” I said. “Those are the