Page 38 of Objection to Love

“Yup.”

She opened the door and stepped inside. When she turned back, Garrett was standing in the same spot on her porch, hands in pockets. She gave him a little wave, then began to close the door.

“Is it pink?”

She paused in the action of closing the door, tilting her head in confusion. “Is what pink?”

“Your gun.” His mouth lifted in what Em was learning was his teasing smile. He also had a secretive smile, a sarcastic smile, and a standard happy smile. There were probably more too.

She pretended offense. “I can’t believe you’d think I have a pink gun.” And with that, she closed the door, though she didn’t move from the spot.

“I’m going to assume it’s purple, then!” he shouted through the door.

The phone ringing pulled Em out of her focused reading of the defense’s discovery file for the Clayton trial. She had to push aside several folders, notebooks, and printed briefs before she found her office phone. How such a hulking item could manage to be covered so fully was beyond her.

“County Attorney’s Office, Em Miller speaking.”

“That’s falsified information, you know.”

Em’s mouth quirked into a smile as she leaned back into her office chair. “Why are you calling me at work, Garrett?”

“Because you are broaching our contract.”

Em actually laughed this time. “I think you mean ‘breach of contract.’”

“Sure, that. Anyway, have you looked at a clock recently?”

She spun her chair around, looking at the clock on the bookshelf in the corner of her office. 7:21.

“Oh.”

“Yeah,oh.You, MissSeptemberMiller—which, by the way, is how you should answer the phone if you don’t want to be falsifying information—arebreachingour contract.”

“I, uh, I’ve been in an accident?”

“Nice try. Why are you so late? You’ve done so well for a week and a half now.”

She had. It was now Friday, and they had made the deal the previous Tuesday.

“I’m in the middle of prepping for a big trial at the end of this month. I guess I just got caught up in the work. Which is a nice change, I have to say. I’ve been distracted by this wholefunissue since last week. It’s nice to feel more like myself.”

“I’m happy for you.”

“But?”

“Who says there’s a but?”

“Your tone of voice. Go on, let it out.”

Garrett laughed, and the sound coursed through Em in a simultaneously comfortable, and whollyuncomfortable, wave. “I’m happy for you, but now you owe me something.”

“We never set any rules for what would happen if there was a breach in contract. We don’t even really have a contract.”

“Well, I know a lawyer, so we’re setting all that up now.”

Em laughed for the second time in their conversation. Which was weird. But not a bad weird.

“Okay. What do I owe you then?”

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