Page 6 of Objection to Love

He hadn’t. At least, notherdoor.

She froze in place, staring. Garrett was standing on the porch next door, his eyes on her. “Goodnight, neighbor!” he called, waving. In the light of a streetlamp, she could see a crooked smile dance across his face.

Neighbor? No…

With one hand, he unlocked the door and pushed it open, then turned back in her direction.

She blinked twice. Nodded. Then ducked into her house as fast as her soaking-wet boots could carry her.

Only once she was safely inside did she let her mouth drop in disbelief.

Apparently, she’d just gotten a new neighbor.

A really attractive new neighbor.

Chapter 2

Em

Thenextmorningdawnedbright and colorful. Colorado always came alive after a good rainstorm. It was beautiful and one of the reasons Em loved waking with the sun.

Well, she woke about five minutes before the sun. Habitually. Even on weekends she couldn’t manage to sleep in. But today it worked in her favor because she needed to get her car before going into work.

She got ready for the day, dodging around Mr. Winkles while she pulled clothes out of the closet. Her cat was incredibly antisocial. More so than most cats, which was saying a lot. But that was intentional on Em’s part. She had wanted a pet but didn’t want the animal to be lonely while she was at work. So she’d spent three weekends at the shelter auditioning cats. They really had to be tested. She’d felt oddly guilty over the idea of bringing home a cat who would spend all day pining for her.

Or tearing up her carpet in spiteful angst. Which was what cats did when you ignored them for too long. But not Mr. Winkles.

When he came into the shelter, Em knew he was the one, despite his unfortunate name. He was a short-hair cat, white with black and orange spots. It was three weeks after Em got him that she learned he was actually ashe.Apparently, calico cats were hardly ever male. But the cat’s name was Mr. Winkles when it came to the shelter, and Em felt strangely loyal to the weird name by the time she learned her cat’s true gender.

So she was still Mr. Winkles.

Sometimes Em just called her Winkles if the cat gave her a bad enough glare.

A knock sounded, and she quickly placed the back in her earring before walking out of her bathroom and down the hall to pull open the front door.

“How are you not late?” Em asked April, who was swinging her keys and smiling at her from her front porch.

April pushed past her and into her living room. “I thought I was. Didn’t you say six?”

“Nope. Six-fifteen. Which is the current time. I was really impressed when I heard you knock. I didn’t expect you until six-thirty. Want some toast?”

“Huh. Jackson told me six.” April spun toward Em once she entered the kitchen. “Wait. I bet he told me that because he knew I’d be late. Jerk.”

Em laughed, skirting around her sister and opening the pantry. “You can’t really be mad. He just knows you too well.”

“I should hope so. We’ve been married for two years.”

“And having a baby soon.” Em turned to point at April’s stomach, which was barely indicating her four-and-a-half-month pregnant bump. “Gotta know someone before you have kids with them.”

“Yeah, well, that’s the hope at least. And yes, I’ll gladly take some toast. This morning sickness stuff is still killing me. I thought it was supposed to go away after the first trimester.” She sat at the peninsula.

Em stuck two slices of bread into the toaster, then leaned against the counter facing her sister. April was nearly a carbon copy of Em, except four years older, three inches shorter, and with hazel eyes instead of dark blue. But they both had the same oval-shaped face, mid-length brown hair, and thin nose.

But right now there was one other difference between Em and her sister—other than the baby bump. April looked tired. Really tired. And Em was the mean girl who’d made her pregnant older sister wake up early enough to take her to the tow shop. She would have asked April’s husband, but he’d been so busy lately with his company that April had offered.

“You doing okay, April?” The toast popped up, and Em turned to transfer the slices to plates.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired. And nauseated—I’malwaysnauseated. Don’t get pregnant, Em; it’s a trap. They show you all these adorable baby faces and tell you it will make you grow closer as a couple if you create a human together. But really all it results in is having to sleep with no blankets because you’re too hot, puking all the time, and exploding on your husband when he brings you the wrong fries. I think I’m killing him, Em.”

---