Take the Chance (Top Shelf Romance #9) - Brittainy Cherry Page 0,138

us?”

“I don’t want to interrupt your private time…”

“Nah, we do this every Saturday,” Sawyer said. He set Olivia down on the blanket—where she found her half-chewed biscuit—and rummaged in the stroller. He held up two pieces of fruit. “Apple or banana?”

“Apple,” I said.

He tossed it to me and I caught it and sat with them on the blanket. We ate and talked, and Olivia helped to give us something to focus on when the air between us seemed to thicken. It had been too long since Sawyer and I had been in the same space. Since his skin had been under my hands. My face felt perpetually hot, and I turned my eyes to Olivia whenever I found myself staring at Sawyer for too long. Twice I thought I caught him staring at me before doing the same.

An elderly couple, strolling arm in arm, veered our way.

“We just had to tell you, that you are such a beautiful young family,” the woman said. “Just beautiful.”

I glanced at Sawyer. “Oh, um...we’re not…”

“Thank you,” he said. “Thanks very much.”

The couple beamed and moved on.

“It’s easier than explaining,” Sawyer told me.

“Oh. It’s happened to you before?” I asked lightly.

“Yeah, with my friend, Jackson,” he said. “He joined us one Saturday and an entire bachelorette party surrounded us, thinking that we were a couple and that Olivia was our adopted daughter.”

I took a long pull from my water bottle. “That’s too cute.”

“I didn’t bother to tell them the truth, though Jax hitting on the Maid of Honor the entire time must’ve been confusing.”

Sawyer was good at making me laugh, and I vowed to relax and enjoy the day, instead of crowding it with silly, impossible thoughts. I leaned back on my hands, let the sunshine spill over me.

“Jackson’s a lawyer, too? I think you mentioned that.”

“Yeah, practicing. So he’s an attorney,” Sawyer said with a grin. He smiled fondly at Olivia who was eating bits of strawberry, alternating with bites of biscuit. “He does tax law at a big firm in the Financial District.”

“Tax law. God, I’m getting sleepy just thinking about it.” I started to take a bite of apple, then froze. “Oh shit. I just realized I never asked you what kind of law you’re studying.”

“Tax law,” Sawyer deadpanned, but the glint in his eye gave him away.

“Liar,” I laughed, and crunched my apple. “What is it, for real?”

“Criminal justice. I want to be a federal prosecutor.”

“Oh,” I said, and it seemed as if a cloud had crossed the path of the sun. My skin broke out in gooseflesh and I swallowed my lump of apple like it was a rock. “That’s the kind of attorney who works to put people in jail, isn’t it?”

I knew perfectly well that’s what it was, because I’d had one standing across from me in a courthouse three years ago. He helped get me sentenced to three months in jail for misdemeanor drug possession.

“There’s more to it than that,” Sawyer said. “A federal prosecutor represents the state or federal government in criminal cases, argues before grand juries…”

“But is that why you want to be a lawyer? To punish those who have broken the law?”

He frowned as if the question didn’t make any sense. “It’s not only about punishment, it’s about justice.” A smile softened his face. “It’s not like the Pirate Code. The laws aren’t there to serve as guidelines. They’re meant to be followed.”

I nodded faintly. “Yeah, they are.”

A short silence descended. Livvie was turning the heavy cardboard pages of a book about a hungry caterpillar. The sunlight made her brown hair gold at the edges.

I cleared my throat, determined to keep my spirits up. “What made you decide to practice?”

He gave me a smile but it faded as he spoke. “I like the law. I like how black and white it can be. Words on paper that last and have power.” He plucked a few blades of grass, tearing them from their roots. “I want that power to protect people from what happened to my family.”

“What happened?”

Sawyer seemed to be struggling to find the words, or whether to speak them at all.

“No, you don’t have to tell me,” I said gently. “I do that. I pry.”

“You’re not prying,” Sawyer said. “You’re making conversation. Something I’m not very good at lately.”

I smiled. “You’re doing fine.”

He smiled back but it was flimsy and faded quickly. “I don’t talk about this very much. Or ever, actually.”

I itched to touch him. “You don’t have to.”

“No, I should, I