Page 9 of Perfectly Naïve
Never have I ever had a dirty mind, but there’s something a little naughty about his smile that has me wondering if he’s thinking about more than food. I shake my head. He’s Henry’s best friend. He’s just being nice.
By all logic, my childhood crush should be well and dead by now, but as Sawyer cuts his steak, forearm muscles flexing, the flutter in my chest tells me it’s very much alive.
“Were you on a date?” I ask, taking a bite of my burgerwhile he talks, fighting a sigh of delight. The food in London was okay, but this is on another level. The ratio of espresso and other seasonings is perfect.
“Uh, yeah. I was with a friend. Not a girlfriend,” he says too quickly.
I pause, a Parmesan-crusted fry halfway to my mouth. “Oh?”
He rubs the back of his neck. “I don’t know why I said that,” he confesses. “Everyone assumes, and well, you know...” He trails off as the server drops off our wine.
Actually, I don’t know. Sawyer was always a flirt. He’s definitely experienced. Probably understands more about being an omega than I do. The French fry eventually makes it to my mouth, perfectly crunchy and cheesy.
“What I mean,” he says when the silence stretches for too long, “is that I’m not ready to settle down yet.”
Since I definitely don’t want him prying into the disaster that is my love life, I change the topic. “What have you been up to? Where are you working?”
He hesitates for a second. “I, uh, I’m working at Russell Elementary.”
“Really?”
He nods. “You’re looking at Mr. Flynn. The best fourth grade teacher Russell Elementary has ever seen.”
“Do you have a picture with your class?” I take another bite of the yummy burger, covering my mouth with my hands because I may have overestimated how big of a bite I could handle, but Sawyer doesn’t even notice or care.
He whips out his phone as fast as a quick draw. “Promise not to laugh.”
“Okay?”
Grabbing his plate, he moves to the seat beside me, setting his dish down and sitting. His profile has always been striking, but the years have done him good. He’s gone from boy to full-fledged alpha. Everything about him is a little stronger, a little more masculine. His proximity doesn’t set my teeth on edge.
It doesn’t make me uneasy.
Unlike with the Pack Johnson alphas, his presence is soothing. I’m not worried he’s going to bark me into submission or force-feed me iceberg lettuce.
“This was our annual fun run. If they raised enough money, then they would get to throw pies at me.” He leans in, and I remember I’m supposed to be looking at the phone and not studying him like a specimen in the lab.
The picture on the device has a bunch of kids surrounding him, big, bright smiles as they laugh at Sawyer covered in whipped cream. Tin pie pans litter the ground around him.
A grin tugs at my lips and I glance at him. “That’s so cute. Who knew you had it in you?”
“You think I’m cute?” he asks, turning his head and putting us almost nose to nose.
“I was talking about the picture,” I murmur.
“I’m in the picture, Liv.”
The way my name rolls off his tongue does something funny to my insides. His lips caress each letter, stroke along the V and leave me wondering if it would be weird to ask him to say it again.
“Oh.” I bite my lip. I can’t tell him he’s not cute. We both know that would be a lie. Without my denial, all that’s left is the truth I’m too afraid to admit aloud. Sawyer is more than cute. He’s possibly the most attractive man I’ve ever known. The air between us thickens. The hairs on my arms rise and his eyes drop to my lips for a millisecond before he averts his gaze.
Interesting.
He clears his throat. “I love my job. It’s not as amazing as what you do, though.”
My nose wrinkles. “Says who? Kids are the future. It takes a special person to dedicate their life to shaping little lives.”
“The pay isn’t good.”
