Love Proof (Laws of Attraction) (41 page)

“And they . . . know about us?”

“Theoretically,” Joe said.  “I couldn’t tell them you were going to be
my wife—I know how much you hate it when I act like you’re a sure thing.”

This time Sarah wasn’t so gentle with the knee into his thigh.

“Husbands and wives work together in law firms all the time,” Joe
pointed out.  “Boyfriends and girlfriends, boyfriends and boyfriends,
girlfriends and girlfriends—”

“I get it.”

“And we’d always be on the same side,” he reminded her, “so no conflict
of interest.”

“But really, Joe?  Texas?”

“It would be ours,” he said.  “A fresh start.  Get out of this place
and go build something new.”

Sarah drummed her fingers against his chest.  “When do you have to let
them know?”

“End of the year.”

“That’s next week.”

“I know,” Joe said.  “They were already considering someone else.  I’m
a late entry.  But they said it’s mine now, if I want it.  That’s why I came
out here today instead of waiting till you got home.  I wanted to give you as
much time as possible to think about it.”

Sarah blew out a breath.  “I don’t know . . . ”

“Think it over,” Joe said.  “Obviously I’m not making a move without
you.”

Sarah lifted her head and looked at him.  “Were you going to propose to
me anyway?”

Joe smiled and wrapped his arms around her more tightly.  “What do you
think?”

“So what was your original strategy?” Sarah asked.  “Flash mob? 
Proposal on the score board at halftime?”

“Get you a ring, for one thing,” he said.  “Probably take you with me
to pick it out.”

“Oh, yeah?  Where?”

“Our place,” Joe said.

Sarah studied him for a moment before cracking a smile.

“Walmart?”

“Of course,” Joe said.  “Where else?”

***

Sarah held tightly to Joe’s hand as the two of them walked back into
her parents’ house.

That got a raised eyebrow from her father, but no other comment.  Then
Sarah’s mother came into the living room.

She stared at their clasped hands for a moment, then lifted her gaze to
her daughter’s face.  And then much to Sarah’s surprise, she smiled.  “You
don’t say.”

Sarah tilted her head and squinted at her, not really sure her mother
understood.

But when Mrs. Henley set her hands on her hips and turned to her
husband and said, “What do you think about that, Gene?” Sarah knew her mother
hadn’t missed a thing.

Although her father still needed to catch up.

“You kids together now or something?” he asked.

“It’s a long story,” Sarah said on a sigh.  “But yes.  In fact, Joe’s
just asked me to marry him.”

Sarah’s mother let out a yelp of glee or surprise, Sarah wasn’t sure
which.  Then she hurried across the room to fold Joe in her sturdy embrace.

“You were a stupid, stupid man,” she scolded him, holding his face now
between her hands and looking him in the eye.  “But I’m glad to see you came to
your senses.  Our Sarah’s a prize, isn’t she?”

“Yes, ma’am, I was,” Joe said, “and yes, ma’am, she is.”

Sarah offered him a sly smile to let him know he was doing well.

Sarah’s father rose from the couch and shook Joe’s hand.  Then got to
the most important issue.  “You a football fan?”

Sarah and her mother rolled their eyes at each other.

“You bet,” Joe said.

“Then if we’re done here for now . . . ” Sarah’s father said.

“Go right ahead, Dad.”  Sarah whispered to Joe, “He likes the Jets.”

“That game’s already over,” Sarah’s father said.  “Don’t worry, Joe and
I’ll get along fine.”

Sarah followed her mother back into the kitchen.  Where she had a
feeling she knew what was coming.

Her mother pointed a stern finger at the kitchen table.  “You sit right
down there, young lady, and don’t you leave out a thing.”

Forty-four

Sarah spent a restless night staring up at the pink canopy above her
bed.  Joe had left around eleven, and Sarah still lay awake two hours later.

Texas.

A clean slate.

Jobs
, for
heaven’s sake.  Something neither of them could be guaranteed otherwise.

But the more she thought about it, the more she analyzed the pros and
the cons and every little nuance her brain could manufacture, the more one
single fact continued to nag at her:

She felt like she would be running away.

Running away from her problems, running away from what she’d done—even
running away from the regular day-to-day life she and Joe had established over
the past few weeks.  Texas would feel exotic and exciting and stressful for a
while.  They’d both have to study for and take the Texas bar exam, while also
attending to every detail of starting a new law firm.  She knew she and Joe
were up to the challenge, but she wasn’t sure it was the
right
challenge.  That was bothering her, too.

Finally as the clock pushed closer to two, Sarah gave up trying to
sleep.  She got out of bed and dressed, then quietly left the house.

She hated to wake anyone else along that hallway, but Joe didn’t answer
her first soft knock.  She knocked again, harder.  She thought about trying to
convince the desk clerk she was the occupant’s fiancée and he had just
forgotten to give her a key, when finally the door opened.

Joe squinted out at her.  Then he smiled and motioned her inside.

Sarah followed him to the bed, kicked off her shoes, and climbed in
next to him wearing her Utah sweats.  She snuggled down under the covers and
Joe drew her in closer until their faces were an inch apart.

“Let’s hear it, Red,” he said sleepily.

“I don’t like it.”

“Which part?”

“The Texas part,” she said.  “The building something for someone else
part.  Why should we do that?  If we’re going to put in all the effort to start
a law firm, let’s do it for us.  Here in California.  Make something for you
and me.”

Joe held her at the small of her back.  He laid a kiss on her lips,
then pulled her hips into his and angled her knee over his leg.  It was how
they liked to sleep sometimes, and Sarah realized that was exactly what was
happening:  Joe was falling back asleep.

She poked him.  “Joe.”

“Hm?”

“So what do you think?”

“I think you’re right.”

“You do?”

“Sure.”

She poked him again.

He peeked open one eye and smiled.  “What?”

“Are you just yessing me so I’ll let you go back to sleep?”

“No.  I’m with you, Sarah.  Here, there, anywhere.”

“But you think it’s a good idea, right?  That we should start our own
firm?”

“I think it’s a great idea.  Now shhh.  I’m with my girlfriend.”

Sarah waited a minute more, then poked him again.

This time Joe yanked her underneath him and straddled her from above as
he smothered her laughter with a kiss.

“What is it, Henley?” he growled.

“I want to marry you.”

“Okay.”

“I want to be your business partner.”

“Okay.”

“So we have a deal?”  She held out her hand.

“The law firm and marriage of Burke and Henley,” he said, shaking her
hand.  “Deal.”

“Henley and Burke,” she corrected him.

“Burke is first alphabetically,” Joe pointed out.  “It’ll show up
sooner on lists.”

“Really, Eight?  Because I think Henley and Burke sounds better.”

“Oh, Seven, that’s a low blow.”

Sarah laughed again.  “All right, tell you what—why don’t we flip for
it?  One coin, and we go with whatever it says.  No arguments from either of
us.”

Joe leaned over and kissed her.  “You’re a tough one, Henley.”

“I know.”

“Tough and sexy and beautiful.”

“Why, thank you.”

“And smart,” Joe added.  “Let’s not forget that.”

“Thank you.  Same to you.”  Sarah wrapped her legs around his waist and
made him kiss her some more.

Then she let him go and leapt out of bed and went in search of a coin.

~~~~

~~~~

COMING SOON:  Laws of
Attraction #2

If you enjoyed LOVE PROOF, please tell
others about it by sharing your review on Goodreads, Amazon, your blog, or
wherever you connect with other readers.  Thank you!

***

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Elizabeth Ruston is a former trial attorney, entrepreneur, community
college instructor, yoga instructor, martial artist, and outdoor adventurer. 
She also writes young adult fiction as Robin Brande.  You can find out more
about current and upcoming titles at
http://www.elizabethruston.com
.

***

And now, please enjoy an
excerpt from
FREEFALL
by
Elizabeth Ruston:

One

It was her last column for
Outdoor Adventure.

Their
last
column.

Eliza had waited three months until she could write it, could bear to
look at the picture of him taken on that last day—the picture she knew she’d
have to let them print at the top of the page.  Because their columns always
came with a picture.

She could have waited longer—people understood, no one was pushing
her—but she wanted to write it while she was still angry at him, because those
had always been their funniest columns, those he said-she said renditions of
some disastrous adventure they’d both just barely survived.

This one wasn’t funny at all.

Is it better to die doing what you love, or to be more
careful so you can stay alive and keep doing it?  Jamey and I had those fights
all the time—when he’d go diving with sharks in baited water.  Or backpacking
alone, deep in grizzly country during a salmon run, no contact with the outside
world until a plane was scheduled to pick him up a week or ten days later.  Or
climbing in a country where even the toddlers carried guns.

Or that time we were hiking up Conundrum Pass in
Colorado, and a freak storm blew in early in the morning, trapping us high on
an exposed ridge above 13,000 feet.  The hail beat down on us as lightning
flashed all around.  A bolt slammed the ridge right above me, blinding me for a
moment with light I didn’t know could be that white.

And what did Jamey do?  He pulled out his camera.  He
stood on that ridge with electricity raining down on top of us and he pulled
out his damn camera.

“What are you doing?” I screamed as I topped the hill
and prepared to keep running down the other side.

“It’s so beautiful!” he shouted back, aiming at the
sky.

“You’re going to die, you a**hole!” I’m not proud to
say I shouted, and as I tore down the hill desperate for the safety of
treeline, it went through my head that those would be my last words to my
husband, and some time a few hours later, when the storm passed, I’d have to
trudge my way back up that mountain to retrieve his lifeless body.  I actually
started working out how I was going to carry him down.  It kept my mind
occupied and pushed out the terror of being struck by lightning myself. 
Cursing helped, too, and I had an awful lot to curse about with a husband who
was such a reckless idiot.

But of course he didn’t die.  Because Jamey was
incredibly lucky that way.  Everyone knew it—it’s what made being with him and
reading about all his exploits in the wilderness so exciting.

But this time he is dead.  From doing something so
easy, something he’d done twenty, forty, fifty times before.  Climbing up one
of our local pitches, perfect blue-sky day, no wind, no weather, just Jamey and
his friends out for a leisurely afternoon.  He was supposed to be home by
five.  We were going to an early movie.

But it doesn’t matter how lucky or handsome or funny
or charming or well-loved—fiercely-loved—you are, you can still die when you’re
29 and leave behind a bewildered, pissed off wife who doesn’t know how to be a
widow any more than she knew how not to fall in love with the likes of you,
Jamey Shepherd, from the first time I saw you in our college English class 11
years ago.  You hooked me in the first time you spoke, and even though I was a
lifelong chicken you somehow turned me into an adventurer, into a partner who
could do half the crazy things you did, and I know if we’d have had time to
start that family we talked about, our children would have been more like you than
like me, because everyone always wanted to be you.