Page 63 of Objection to Love

“Yes. Well, I’m late for me.”

He pushed off the door frame with a grin. “I know. Come on, let’s go.”

“Let’s?”

“Yes. I’m driving you to work.”

For the first time, she noticed he wasn’t in his standard leisure wear. He was wearing slacks, a button-up shirt, and a sports coat. Which all looked incredibly good.

“Why?” she asked, still not moving, even though he had stepped out of her way.

“Because, for at least the next few days, your ankle is still going to hurt pretty bad, and I didn’t want you to have to drive on it.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

“Also because I think you’re cute and want to spend time with you.”

Her heart melted. Right then and there. Goodbye, sensible Em; she was now a puddle on the ground, and you wouldn’t find her complaining.

“I can’t say no to that, then.” She smiled, aiming her crutches onto the other side of the door frame.

“Here, let me grab that.” He slipped the briefcase from her hand and grabbed an umbrella from where he must have left it leaning against the porch railing. He popped it open and held it over her head. Together, they made it to the car without incident. Which was impressive considering their track record.

“So you have that trial this week, right?” he asked as he placed his hand on the back of her headrest and looked behind him to back out of the driveway. Something about that action was extremely attractive, though Em couldn’t say why.

“No, actually, next week. It starts Tuesday.”

“Are you nervous?”

“Not really,” she replied. But that was thestandardresponse. The “I’m fine” of the workplace. And she and Garrett had clearly moved past standard. Catapulted past it, really. So, she tried again. “Okay, that’s not entirely true. I’m a little nervous. Since I convinced my boss to allow me to charge the perpetrator with a higher crime than was suggested, there’s a lot of pressure to succeed.”

His elbow rested on the console between them, and he swung his hand toward her, opening it and offering it to her. She took it, unsuccessfully ignoring the zinging up her arm as his fingers folded around hers. “Sounds stressful.”

Em nodded. “Some people thrive on the stress of trials.”

“Do you?”

She thought for a moment. “No. Not really.”

“Why do the job then?” He didn’t sound accusatory in any way, just curious.

“Even though law shows might disagree, the trials are really such a small part of the job. So much of my work is meeting with witnesses and victims and trying to find the best possible outcome. I get to do a lot of good. I get to help a lot of people. And paperwork. I do a lot of paperwork.” She made a face. “So the few cases that go to trial are going to trial because that’s our best option. Knowing that, I can handle the stress of them well enough. I just want to do right by all parties, you know?”

He squeezed her hand, nodding. “I’m sure you’ll be amazing.”

“That’s the plan.”

He stopped at a stop sign, glancing over at her. “I amend my statement, youareamazing.”

She ducked her head. “Thanks.”

There was a shift in his voice that told her some sort of joke was coming. “It’s probably some sort ofcrimehow awesome you are.”

Em snorted. “Not tired of the puns yet?” she asked.

“Not a bit.”

“Too bad.”

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