Page 67 of Objection to Love

Garrett grabbed her hand again, kissing it as he usually did before settling it between them. “I thought if I caught you off guard, you’d tell me.” He turned down the next street. “But it’s fine. I’m mostly interested in what activity you decided was fun enough.”

“You’ll just have to wait and see.”

“What time do I need to be ready?”

“Mmm, five tomorrow?”

“AM?”

“PM.”

He nodded, and they lapsed into silence. And for the first time in a long time, it was awkward. At least on Em’s part it was. She felt that the air was filled with the questions she was too much of a wimp to ask. Did he just see her as a fling? Did this mean nothing? Was there a string of women he’d left behind in every state he’d worked in? Should she be protecting her heart better than she’d been?

Yeah. Probably.

When they pulled into Garrett’s driveway, she was no closer to asking any of her questions.

“So what movie should we watch?” Garrett asked as he closed his truck door.

“You know, I’m actually pretty tired. Do you mind if we take a rain check?” Em took a backward step away from his truck as she spoke. Back toward her house.

He watched her with an unreadable look. “Yeah, sure, of course.”

“Awesome!” That was a weird word to say right now. Especially with the false enthusiasm she’d colored it with. She cranked back the happiness when she added, “I’ll see you tomorrow at five!”

And she turned and walked up to her door. Before he could walk away from her.

Because even though he was only leaving because she’d canceled their plans, after that conversation—or lack of one—it felt more symbolic than anything.

She reached her door when she felt his hand on her arm, softly turning her around. Her eyes widened to see he’d followed her up her steps.

With half a grin, he ran both his hands up to her shoulders, then back down to her wrists. Then he released them altogether and grabbed her waist, pulling her close for a slow kiss. “Until tomorrow, then,” he murmured.

She was unsteady when he let her go—her mind moving in a million directions.

And before she could react, she realized she’d lost her chance. He was walking away from her after all.

Em spent most of Saturday cleaning her house and reviewing her case files for the Clayton trial. And occasionally thinking about Garrett and how much she should be investing in this relationship.

Only occasionally.

For someone considered cutthroat in her job, she was apparently a serious pansy in her relationship. He’d texted her once that morning to see if she wanted to grab lunch, and she’d told him she was too busy. Then lunch by herself at her kitchen table passed, and she’d regretted letting her insecurities get in the way of spending time with him.

When five o’clock came, she was already mentally exhausted. But she’d decided to just enjoy the evening. She could do more worrying later—or, if she was feeling dangerous, she could be a real adult and just get the whole DTR thing over with. Either way, being with Garrett was always fun, and she really was looking forward to seeing his reaction to their activity. Plus, she’d spent about two hours perfecting the “I hardly tried” look with her appearance. Tight black pants, a relaxed white blouse, just enough makeup, soft curls in her shoulder-length hair, and—unfortunately—unheeled shoes. Stupid ankle.

When he knocked on her door and she opened it, all the effort was worth it. His mouth literally fell open as he took her in. She even thought she heard him say “whoa” under his breath.

It might have been “no” or something else that rhymed, but Em was going with the first option.

And when his hands immediately circled her waist and pushed her back into her house, kicking the door closed behind him, she thought she was right about what he’d said.

“Excuse me, our activity is out there, not in here.”

“Just give me a minute,” he muttered as he backed her against a wall. His eyes met hers, crinkling at the sides with a smile. “You look incredible.”

“Thank you,” was all she could say with him looking at her like that.

And then he was kissing her. One hand at the back of her head and the other on her waist. Until she didn’t remember what they were supposed to be doing. For all she knew, this was exactly what she’d planned. A good old-fashioned make-out session.

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