Page 54 of Sawyer

She laughs. “No dice. I wasn’t sure what the open container laws are here.”

“Next time.” I don’t know how I manage to say the words with my heart lodged inside my mouth. It’s forward of me to assume there will be a next time.

I’m showing her my cards. Well.Acard. One that screamsyou make me forget myself.

Ava turns away to look at the girls. There’s a catch in my gut. Shit, twenty seconds into our conversation, and I’ve already gone too far. Time to backtrack.

She beats me to it. Keeping her eyes on the girls, who are currently following each other around as they dart across the playground with big old smiles on their faces, Ava says, “Y’all have a good morning?”

The easy answer is on the tip of my tongue. This morning was fine. We got it done. Got out of the house on time, at the very least.

“It was a shit show, actually.”

Wow.

Wow.

Way to keep forgetting myself. My face is hot. I run my free hand over it, wondering vaguely if I’m experiencing some kind of catastrophic neurological event. Ava just made very clear she wants to keep this conversation friendly. Light. Easy.

Then I went and bulldozed ahead with one hell of a truth.

But Ava just chuckles, setting the chalk down on the latticed metal bench beside us. “Same. Why is it so effing hard for them to get dressed and brush their teeth? Never mind putting on their shoes.”

“Theshoes.” I groan. “So. Many. Tears. Ella’s, and mine.”

Ava looks at me again. “But seriously, most mornings I do want to cry. I guess I was a nightmare too as a kid—my mom swears up and down that it took an act of God to get me out of bed—but I don’t remember ever beingthatbad. I was also a middle child, so I think my mom forgets a lot about me. You know, gets me mixed up with my sisters.”

“Classic middle child, insisting no one remembers jack about you.”

Her lips twitch. I’m hit by the memory of just how soft they are, how sweetly hot they tasted. “You sound like you know what you’re talking about.”

“Number three out of five.” Glancing at the playground, I see Ella and Junie giggling on one of the seesaws. I also see a guy shamelessly checking out Ava while he pushes his kid on a swing.

I scowl at him. He looks away.

My pulse skips a beat. I felt jealous watching guys check out Ava at the barn raising too. What’s up with that? Cash is the possessive one. Not that long ago, he clocked some guy square in the face for hurting Mollie’s feelings.

Me? I’ve never felt remotely territorial over a woman. But all of a sudden, I’m gripped by the need to keep that dickhead away from Ava.

Keepallthe dickheads away from her. Which scares me.

I gotta pump the brakes. This is a playdate, for fuck’s sake. We’re here for the kids.

I can keep it fucking simple.

Easier said than done when the sense of freedom I felt back in Austin is carrying over into all my interactions with Ava. There’s no pressure to be anything other than myself when I’m with her.

“I’m number two out of three. But five of y’all?” Ava lets out a low whistle. “Bet you had to throw some elbows.”

I shrug, nodding at the bench. “You wanna sit?”

I tell myself I’m asking her that because sitting is more comfortable than standing. That’s it. My request has nothing at all to do with the fact that Wandering-Eye Asshole won’t be able to see her backside if she sits.

Because goddamn, her ass is a sight for sore eyes in those jeans.

“Yes.” The word comes out of her mouth in a relieved rush.

My heart twists. Just how tired is she?

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