Instead of granting Rupert access, Darcy turned to her assistant. “How are we doing with the docket, Tina Marie?”
“I think we set a record for the highest number of cases in one day.” Tina Marie might have been the only person in the room who looked pleased.
“Given that, let’s postpone the final trio of cases until tomorrow.” Darcy’s gaze touched on each of the defenders present—Rupert, Oliver, and Reese Walter, the public defender. “I’ll see you three in my chambers. Court adjourned.” She rapped her gavel, gathered her case folders and Stogey, and made her retreat.
The three men traipsed into her office looking grim. They didn’t sit, and neither did Darcy. She expected an immediate attack and wanted to face them on level ground. Her adversaries waited to engage until Tina Marie passed through the judge’s chambers from the courtroom and closed the door behind her.
“This can’t go on,” Rupert said sharply. “Your sentences are ridiculous.”
“They’re too severe.” Reese echoed Rupert’s derision.
Gripping his tie, Oliver glared at her in silence, perhaps because they’d had multiple go-rounds on sentencing already.
Begin as you mean to go on.
It felt good to have George in her head. She didn’t have to face them alone.
“I’m following the letter of the law.” Darcy lifted her chin. “Isn’t upholding the law what a judge is supposed to do?”
The three men exchanged glances and frowns.
In their hesitation, she found strength. “Don’t be hypocritical. In the past I’ve heard each of you complain about George’s sentencing,” Darcy went on, increasingly convinced she was right. “Reese, I’ve heard you at Shaw’s venting about punishments handed down. And you two…There wasn’t a holiday or birthday that went by without you jumping on George’s back about him being too lenient.”
Again the three men exchanged glances. And then they looked down their noses at her, their scorn palpable. But they lacked arguments to back up what they wanted—a judge they could control.
It struck Darcy then. Too often she let others tell her what to do—bosses, professors, Jason, George. But this time, she held the power. The power to punish these men if they didn’t treat her with the respect due her position. The power to continue to sentence the way she saw fit. They could complain to her. They could lodge complaints with the Judicial Performance Commission. But they couldn’t do anything to her in the courthouse.
Begin as you mean to go on, George repeated.
“Get out of my office.” Darcy didn’t recognize her voice. She didn’t recognize the woman who thrust her arm out and pointed toward the door. She was confident and certain, even in her clunky heels. Somehow she’d developed an intimidating court presence, not just a face.
Attagirl, George cackled.
“Get out,” she repeated in a way she hadn’t practiced in the mirror.
She didn’t recognize the men who filed out of her office, tails between their legs.
Judge Darcy Harper.
She was beginning to believe it could stick.
* * *
“I’m only here because I’m your best friend,” Iggy told Jason a few minutes after leaving the Burger Shack.
They stood outside Jason’s mother’s yarn shop in downtown Sunshine, mirroring each other. Arms crossed, hat brims pulled down low.
“Here’s the thing.” Jason tugged Iggy out of the way of Rosalie Bollinger, pet shop owner, who was walking her two dogs—a huge Saint Bernard and a small terrier mix. “This can die a quick and painless death if we go in there and have nothing to say. The Widows Club told us we’re clueless about women. Why not play to that?”
“Brilliant.” Iggy clapped Jason on the back. Whether he could keep quiet was another thing entirely.
Ken parked his rented Lexus in a nearby space and got out. “I could have walked here. This town is so small. I don’t know how you stand it.” His gaze caught on Avery Blackstone changing movie posters a block over. And then Tiffany Winslow cleaning the pharmacy window glass.
“The scenery is first-rate.” Iggy elbowed Jason, chuckling.
Jason didn’t laugh. Darcy wasn’t part of the scenery. She was probably still in court without anyone watching her back.
“Don’t look so grim, Jason.” Ken joined them on the sidewalk. “It’s always good to try new things. Who knows? You could be so smooth on camera that we land a rodeo announcer gig when you retire.”
“The hemorrhoid ad is looking better and better.” Iggy chuckled once more.
Jason shook his head.
“You’d think a man who climbs on bulls for a living would show a little more courage. Is this the studio or…?” Ken glanced around, perhaps looking for a recording studio. “Where are we going? Time is money.”
“Right here.” Jason opened the door to the yarn shop, directing Ken and Iggy inside. “Hey, Mom. You remember my agent, Ken.”
“Ken. What a surprise.” His mother set down her knitting needles and came around the counter. She wore a thin, neon-pink sweater she’d made and had her blond hair pulled back from her face.
Mom was a hugger. Ken was more the polite-handclasp, shoulder-bump type. Jason’s mother sprang and wrapped her arms around Ken before he could dodge out of reach.
“Ken, you feel solid, like you’re thriving. Jason must be earning enough money to feed you well.” Mom released him and took a small step back. “But your wardrobe is a bit too citified for Sunshine. I’ve got just the thing to help you fit in.”
In no time she had a black sweater vest on him.
Ken gave Jason a long-suffering look. “Does this not prove I’d do anything for you?”
“Will you quit dawdling?” Clarice yanked aside the curtain that separated the store from the storeroom. Her walking stick rested against the wall. “We’re ready back here. The yarn insulates sound nicely, and Nancy needs to close up soon.”
The storeroom was filled from floor to ceiling with colorful yarn in boxes, in plastic bags, and in stacked skeins. A rug had been tossed on the floor and an oblong folding table tucked into the tight space.
The elderly widow positioned them behind the table—Jason in the corner next to several containers of baby-blue and -pink yarn, then Iggy, and then Edith blocking them in. They sat on a redwood picnic bench that his mother normally used to display baskets of yarn and knitted goods in the store window. Bitsy sat on a folding chair by the storeroom entrance. Clarice stood behind a tripod upon which she’d mounted her cell phone. Ken took up a space next to her.
“I’m having second thoughts,” Jason said. The walls of yarn were closing in.
“Be a sport,” Ken said with a significant tug on his sweater vest. “I’ll send the video to a friend of mine in New York who manages social media influencers and another who produces rodeo coverage for the networks. We’ll see what they think.”
Jason didn’t want to be a sport. This was going to suck. Big-time. It was like drawing a ride on the meanest bull at the rodeo. Things were going to end badly. Stomp-stomp. A bolt of pain struck Jason’s leg. He grunted softly but refrained from massaging the pain away. Too many eyes were trained upon him.
“I can tell you right now, a yarn backdrop isn’t your look.” But Iggy, like Jason, was wedged in. “Or mine either.”
“Just FYI, people. I have no idea what to say.” Jason wasn’t sure whom he was announcing it to, but it needed to be put out there.
“Follow my lead. I’ve been given notes.” Edith looked at Clarice. “Tell me when you’re ready. Oh, before that. We need a name for this thing. I thought we’d call it The Relationship Threesome.”
“No,” Jason ground out, horrified by the innuendo in a multigenerational, multigender crowd.
“The Love Trio?” Edith rebounded quickly.
“No,” Jason said even more firmly this time.
“Thoughts from the Throuple?” Edith blinked innocently at the two men beside her.
Was
it possible she knew what a throuple was and was yanking their chains?
Regardless, Jason rejected that too. “We’re not calling this anything. It’s a demo. Who cares if we have a title?”
“New York,” Ken said simply.
“He’s right. We have to call it something,” Bitsy said in that soothing voice of hers. “Every video you see online has a title and names of those featured.”
“We’re not putting my name on this.” Jason was back to choking out his words.
“It doesn’t fly without your name,” Ken said as if it had been decreed.
“Rock, paper, scissors?” Edith suggested, finger-counting the three of them. When they frowned, she said, “Final answer. Love Advice from Two Cowboys and a Little Old Lady. You can’t argue with that.”
“They won’t.” Ken checked his phone. “It’ll do. Let’s get this thing started.”
“And we’re live.” Clarice made a lasso motion with her hand.
“Welcome to the inaugural session of Love Advice from Two Cowboys and a Little Old Lady.” Edith glowed, as if this were her big break in Hollywood. “During our chats, we’ll learn what well-to-do, modern-day cowboys think about dating, relationships, and sex.”
Iggy lowered the brim of his cowboy hat and slouched.
“No sex talk,” Jason insisted. “This is PG-13.”
“Dating, relationships, and celibacy, then,” Edith pivoted without a crack in her smile. “Although I think we can all agree that celibacy is boring if it isn’t a choice.” She pinched Iggy’s cheek the way a grandmother pinched a baby’s. “Are you celibate?”
“Don’t look at me,” Iggy whispered, chin to his chest as if trying to hide his face. “I have a very active social life in that respect. Now the bull rider here…”
Jason did a slow burn, which involved glaring at Ken.
“Focus, Edith,” Clarice murmured, making a move-it-along circular motion with her hand.
“Let’s get right to our first topic—initial attraction.” Edith glanced down at scribbles on a small notepad. She pointed at Bitsy. “Per our crack researcher, it’s a scientific fact that both genders notice the face first.” She paused, glancing up at Bitsy. “Hang on. Is that right? I would have thought men would notice a woman’s bazingas and women would notice a man’s behind. Is the face response significantly higher than other body parts? Was it close for men? I mean, bazingas have to be high up on the list.” Edith looked at Jason, because Iggy’s face was hidden by his hat brim, his shoulders shaking with barely contained laughter. “What do you notice first, cowboy?”
“I plead the Fifth,” Jason said flatly. If he said anything, Darcy would hold it against him if she ever saw this debacle.
“I can’t keep quiet. I just can’t. I’m going with honesty.” Iggy raised his head and cupped his hands in front of his chest. “Bazingas. One hundred percent bazingas. Not the size so much as the display. Let me know you’re comfortable with what you’ve got, ladies.”
Jason fastened the top button of his shirt, trying to look as buttoned-up and pious as possible. “I’m extremely uncomfortable with this topic. Can we go back to celibacy? I’m celibate and have been for—”
“No. We have to know everything about bazingas.” Edith half turned on the bench to face Iggy. “One of our cowboys prefers confident bazingas over facial features. It’s fascinating.”
“Please,” Jason said in a strangled voice. “No more bazingas.”
“Are you a behind girl, Edith?” Iggy asked, clearly having forgotten they were being recorded.
Jason couldn’t forget. He stared at Clarice’s phone on that tripod and wished for a technological catastrophe.
Meanwhile Ken, Bitsy, and Clarice were grinning, which didn’t bode well. Bazingas aside, couldn’t they see this was a bust?
“I thought I was a fan of a man’s backside until last Christmas.” Edith grinned at their production crew. “It was his shoes that had me falling. They weren’t orthopedic. They were expensive leather. Shoes are very telling at my age, an indicator of many things. Like his ability to be mobile and active.” She winked. “Not to mention his net worth and his sense of style.”
Iggy hung on every word. “What happened with the leather-shoe guy?”
Beneath the table, Jason punched his friend in the thigh and muttered, “Don’t encourage her.”
Edith tsk-tsked. “He was actually too active for me. His entire day was devoted to a rotation of dates with women. Keep in mind, he was retired. But his calendar was more tightly scheduled than an airport reopening for landings after a thunderstorm.”
Iggy inched away from Jason. “So, you’re downgrading to orthopedic shoes from now on?”
“I’m actually choosing celibacy for now.” Edith squared her shoulders. “I thought I’d spend some time working on me.”
“Do I really need to be here?” Jason demanded, half standing in his yarn corner.
“Yes!” everyone said.
Iggy hauled him back into his seat.
Ken gave Jason a hand gesture he took to mean stay.
“What attracts you first to a woman, Jason?” Edith prompted. “Go on. Don’t be shy.”
“A woman’s personality.” It was the safest answer on the planet, and Darcy couldn’t find fault with it.
Iggy chuckled. “Oh, I can see her personality from halfway across the bar.”
“Her character and moral fiber.” Jason raised his voice, trying to rise above the innuendos being tossed about by Iggy and Edith.
“Personality isn’t exactly a box you check at first sight,” Edith said doubtfully.
“The fact that she has something she’s passionate about,” Jason floundered, trying to remember what had attracted him to Darcy when he was younger. She’d been such a badass at first, pretending she didn’t care that her parents spent more time behind bars than in Sunshine. “I respect that a woman has a dream she’s pursuing instead of hanging her hat on mine.”
It was the truth, he realized suddenly. He loved that Darcy had never made him feel as if they weren’t equal partners, both working toward success in their respective fields.
“Jason’s a sensitive guy,” Iggy said, smirking. “But counterpoint. I like to keep the banter light until the second drink.”
“Don’t you mean the second date?” Edith asked.
“Second drink on the first meet,” Iggy clarified. “If I’ve got a chance, I’ll listen all night.” He wobbled his eyebrows suggestively.
“Great transition. Let’s move on to passion.” Edith referred to her notes again. “Do sparks have to fly from the get-go? This always seems like such a trap to fall into. From a woman’s perspective, if you keep things platonic, the man may think there’s no chemistry and not give the relationship a chance. However, if you give that kiss your all and someone thinks you’re going to ‘put out,’ there might be hurt feelings. And if you do the bedroom rhumba too soon, you might be seen as fast and loose or, worse, desperate.”
Jason bit back a groan. Judge Darcy wasn’t going to like the direction of this conversation at all.
“You can’t hold back on those first kisses, not if you want there to be a second,” Iggy explained. “And you can always test that chemistry with restraint. At least I can.”
Jason scoffed. “Says the man whose kisses have enticed many a first date into a first sleepover.”
“And I say it with pride.” Iggy puffed out his chest. “There’s no shame to being young and attracted to confident bazingas. Insta-love is the foundation of many a great marriage.”
“Says the man who has yet to be married.” Jason tossed his hands up.
“Like you are?” Iggy arched his brows.
“Like I am,” Jason growled. “I am nothing like you.”
“Cut.” Ken stepped in front of the tripod. “I think we end on Iggy’s line about insta-love. That last part wasn’t exactly flattering to you, buddy.” He nodded toward Jason.
“And that’s what we�
��re here for, after all.” Iggy got to his feet in the small space between the table and bench, helping Edith to hers. “Jason’s reputation.”
“Jason’s career,” Ken corrected crisply, “which benefits your bull semen business. You’d best remember that.”
“Like you’re going to let me forget,” Iggy scoffed. “I’ll always be second fiddle to the world champ.”
Jason and Ken exchanged glances. Jason imagined Ken was registering the same thought: Iggy had serious envy issues.
Edith came around to the other side of the table, beaming at Jason. “You said some really nice things. Women love to feel their work and their passions are respected.”
“And to know their men are proud of their accomplishments.” Clarice joined Edith, smiling reassuringly at Jason, as if he’d done well.
He’d face-planted harder than if a bull had tossed him with a spin move.
On a positive note, Ken’s contacts would probably take one look at the video and give a scathing review, advising Ken never to put his client in such an embarrassing situation again.
Edith blinked owlish eyes at Clarice. “Did you get my best side?”
“Yes, always,” Clarice said briskly, although Edith had turned this way and that and Clarice hadn’t touched her cell phone the entire time.
* * *
Chuckling, Bitsy walked down the sidewalk on Main Street toward her car.
If she was any judge, the video they’d made wasn’t going to give anyone helpful love advice. But the widows were hopeful the ruse would give Jason something to think about when it came to his relationship with Darcy. And it might even make Iggy, the die-hard bachelor, grow up a little.
She paused at the street corner, checking for traffic before stepping into the crosswalk.
“Bitsy.” A man called her name from down the block.
She turned, realized it was Rupert, and twisted her ankle.
“Ow. Shiitake mushrooms.” Bitsy hobbled back to the corner.
“Are you all right?” Rupert put a steadying hand on her arm, the way a Boy Scout did when helping an old lady across the street. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
Dream a Little Dream Page 12
