Page 9 of Objection to Love
Chapter 4
Em
Emwokeupfiveminutes before the sun, as usual. But this time her head and body severely protested.
“Ugh.” She rolled over, wishing she could sleep for another hour. But she was nothing if not consistent, and based on previous experience, she knew she’d just lie there until her headache got bad enough that she had to get out of bed in search of ibuprofen. Once the sun rose, she was incapable of sleep, no matter how much she might need it.
The night before, she hadn’t pulled into her driveway until close to ten. Then she’d spent another hour reviewing the Clayton case one last time. She would be presenting the charges to her boss today, and to convince him to support her decision of charging Mr. Clayton with first-degree murder, she needed to have thought of everything. Mr. Standson was incredibly good at his job, and he ran a tight ship of an office. Honestly, she’d been shocked when he gave her this case. It was high profile and usually would be given to a senior attorney… yet he’d trusted Em with it, letting her know he believed she’d do a great job, which had been gratifying, to say the least.
But he’d handed the case over with a suggestion to charge Mr. Clayton with manslaughter. He’d only looked over the basics of the case, though, and after reviewing all the police records and digging further into the evidence, she was certain she could get Clayton sentenced with the higher charge. Everything, down to the insurance policy Em uncovered that Mr. Clayton had taken out on his wife two weeks before shooting her after finding her in bed with her yoga instructor, indicated he was planning on killing her for some time. It had taken some digging to find that information, and she fully expected Mr. Standson to be thrilled with her hard work. But she couldn’t present anything less than perfection, or he might not trust her to continue the case.
She splashed water on her face then grabbed the bottle of ibuprofen. It would be a long day, and she couldn’t have this lingering headache impeding her thinking.
It took twenty minutes before the painkillers sufficiently cleared the pounding, by which time she’d showered and blow-dried her hair. She swiped on mascara, under eye concealer, and ChapStick, ate a quick breakfast, grabbed her briefcase and stepped onto the porch.
Back when little old Erma June lived next door to Em, she never thought about how close her house was to the neighboring one. She had never thought about how her porch was so close to Erma’s that if she stood on her own porch’s white railing, she could probably jump over to the white railing next door.
Not that she’d ever do that. But, still, the fact was that she’d never realized how veryclosethat house was.
Until Garrett moved in and apparently took up a morning vigil on the porch swing facing her. His mouth lifted on one side, and he raised his mug in salute to her.
Em nodded in return.
“So, what did your sister think of me?”
Em stopped as she stepped off the porch. “What?”
“Your sister. Thatwasyour sister yesterday, right? You two look like you could be twins. I would guess you are, if not for the fact I know she was born in April and you in September.” He looked pretty pleased with his social deduction.
“She’s four years older than me.”
“And that makes her, what, mid-thirties?”
Em recognized fishing when she saw it. But somehow, his digging for information didn’t bother her. Much. After all, he really had saved her in the canyon. She could be a cordial neighbor.
“She’s thirty-two.”
“So you’re twenty-eight.”
“Happy to see your second-grade math is paying off. I’ll turn twenty-eight in September.” Em made it three steps down the walk this time.
“Thank you. My mom was always very proud of my subtraction skills. Still is, if I had to guess. Brags about it to her Bunco friends.”
Em turned, adjusting the strap of her briefcase. She raised her eyebrows at Garrett’s smiling face. That smile was doing odd things to her insides, which spelled trouble. Maybe she should be a bitlesscordial. “Don’t you have work to go to or something?’
He stood up and leaned against the railing of his porch, either not catching her attempt to end the conversation or ignoring it. “Yes, but like most normal people, I don’t have to be there until nine. Sometimes eight. Never as early as this.”
“I work in Woodcastle. It takes over twenty minutes to get there.”
“Hey, I work in Woodcastle too. Maybe we should carpool.”
“Do you intend to start going into work two hours early?” Em asked as she took another step to her car.
“Nope. But I’m kinda hoping I can convince you to go in two hours late.”
“I don’t do late.”
“Yeah. I’m not surprised.” For some reason, his easy stance and teasing words were starting to grate. He was enjoying himself at her expense. It wasn’t a bad thing to be early. It was admirable. Respectable. Even if her boss didn’t even get in until 8:30 every day, it didn't mean she couldn’t be there at 7:30 sharp. Her parents had always put being early for work ahead of just about anything else. Even that time in middle school when Em had the stomach flu, they’d just tucked her in bed with some books and a phone and said they’d be back for dinner.
