“Hold up. Darcy’s in a bar on a weeknight.” Avery slid onto a stool next to her. She was wearing the Louboutins Darcy had given her. “And she’s not wearing my grandmother’s shoes.”
Ken took the bar stool next to Avery. “Hey, Darcy.” He must have run into Mrs. Petrie earlier, because he wore a sweater vest over his polo.
“We’re on a date,” Avery confided with a sideways glance at Ken, who was texting.
“Talk to her while I wrap this up.” Ken finished his missive and flagged down Noah. “What kind of signature cocktails do you have?”
“Beer on tap,” Noah deadpanned.
“Funny. We’ll have two Moscow mules,” Ken said just as flatly. His phone flashed and he picked it up. The man was always wheeling and dealing.
But had he learned whether or not Darcy and Jason were legally married? She didn’t dare ask with Avery present.
“Nice shoes.” Darcy stared at Avery’s feet. “My toes are having second thoughts about giving them to you.” Louboutins beat wedge heels any day.
“If you miss these shoes that bad, I can rent them to you.” Avery knew how to make an extra buck and how to toss a challenge.
“Rent?” Darcy scoffed. “I loaned you those shoes once. Gratis.”
“And then you gave them to me. So if you want to rent them, you can. With terms and conditions. Embedded in the fine print will be that my grandmother will want her shoes returned.” Avery turned her back on Darcy, facing Ken. She did the hair toss thing, flinging her locks dismissively in Darcy’s direction.
Her hair smelled good, like the frizz-reducing spray Darcy had given her during the purge.
“Can I get you a refill, Darcy?” Noah asked, multitasking while he made those mules.
“I better not. Two beers and I might wrestle those shoes off Avery’s feet.”
“I heard that,” Avery said over her shoulder. “And by the way, it’s spring. You could use highlights.”
Darcy ran her fingers through her hair. She didn’t need to look in a mirror. Avery spoke the truth.
Ken leaned past Avery to catch Darcy’s eye. “I need to ask you for a favor.”
“Not now.” Darcy worked on finishing her beer.
Jason burst through the door, started toward Darcy’s usual table, but stopped when he realized it was empty. He took stock of the room. His gaze landed on her.
Darcy’s heart went ka-thump.
She drained her beer. “Time to go.” She reached down for Stogey’s bag.
It was empty.
* * *
In the time it took Jason to find Darcy at the bar, Stogey waddled up to him and sat on his boot.
“You’re a lifesaver, little man.” Jason scooped the dog into his arms and strode over to Darcy, taking a seat next to her. “I’ll have what she’s having, Noah. And give her another.”
“I shouldn’t have a second beer.” But she didn’t refuse either. She held herself stiffly, perhaps waiting for the verdict on their marriage.
“Have another, Darcy.” Ken draped his arms over Avery’s shoulders. “I’ll protect your shoes, honey, while Jason asks Darcy a question. He knows the one.”
Jason frowned. Ken and the widows had a ridiculous idea for Jason to win Darcy back. “Didn’t I fire you?”
“I ignore the ranting of temperamental clients.” Ken glanced at Noah. “Can you at least make Jason’s beer low carb? He’s in training.”
Darcy made a guttural sound and slapped her hand on the bar top like she was wielding a gavel. “Ken, did you tip off Jason that I was here?”
“That’s what I always liked about Darcy.” Ken twined his fingers with Avery’s. “Can’t get one past her.”
Darcy reached for Stogey. Jason held him back. The jostling earned him a canine gas bomb.
“What do you feed this dog?” Jason looked deep into Stogey’s eyes to make sure he wasn’t medicated again. “Onions? Chili?”
“Chex Mix?” Darcy had the grace to look embarrassed. “And it was just a couple.”
“No dogs allowed.” Noah delivered their beers. “Especially ones that smell like that.”
“He’s a therapy dog,” Darcy protested, albeit weakly. Her hair was askew, as if she’d run her hands through it and given up halfway.
Noah put his hands on his hips. “Put your therapy dog back in your bag or you’ll have to leave.”
“Come on.” Jason slid off the bar stool with Stogey in his arms. “Let’s get a booth.” He waited for Darcy to get off the bar stool before heading for her usual table.
“No questions.” Darcy set their beers on the table and then took Stogey, placing him in his carrier in the corner. “Just information. Go on. Spill.”
No way was he spilling the good stuff first. She’d leave. “You’re drinking at Shaw’s.”
“I had some day.” She told him about the complaints against her and how Tina Marie had called her a hanging judge. “It seemed appropriate to have a drink. And then I got here and even Drew cast shade on my performance.”
“Has George approved of your work?”
“George is oddly…absent.” She ran her fingers through her hair once more. “You know, I don’t think he’s spoken to me since you came to stay.”
I found a more interesting pupil.
Jason waved a hand in front of his face as if chasing off a pesky fly.
Stogey crawled out of his carrier and crept into her lap. He scanned the table for morsels, of which there were none, and then gave Jason a mournful look.
“We shouldn’t be seen together.” Darcy drank from her beer.
At the bar, Avery had her arms around Ken’s neck and her back to them. Ken swept his hand through the air, encouraging Jason to get things moving.
“It’s like Ken has superhuman hearing or something,” Jason muttered. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you our suspicions right away about the license. Things between us have been tenuous, and I didn’t want you to get your hopes up.”
Darcy leaned forward, expression fierce. “Things between us were not tenuous. They were good, except for the fact that you didn’t tell me you were injured or that we might not be married.”
“I apologize for not coming clean with you. It won’t happen again.”
Stogey rested his chin on the tabletop, staring at Jason as if he thought filet mignon was being delivered to the table next.
Darcy stroked his head. “Let’s be honest. Part of my frustration is about my job. I should resign.” She took a sip of beer and then stared Jason square in the eyes. “I should resign and you should retire.”
“Neither one of us is a quitter,” Jason said none too mildly.
“I’m not quitting. I’ve decided to come clean, which will necessitate the retirement of the hanging judge.” Darcy dug in her purse, presumably for her wallet or her car keys. “If Iggy shows up, which we both know he will—he has a radar for you in bars—he can finish my beer. Text me what the Vegas verdict is. I just can’t do this anymore.”
“Hold up. What do you feel the need to confess?” And why did she feel it would mean she’d have to quit?
“This.” She flashed him the rock of a wedding ring. “A string of bad decisions that ended with me being judge. I feel the need to cleanse my soul. Sounds cliché, but you felt better after you told me the truth about Vegas, didn’t you?” She got to her feet, gathering her purse and Stogey’s tote bag. “They’ll probably run me out of town, but I deserve it.”
“This isn’t the answer.” The judgeship was important to her. She brought work home every night.
She sighed, a sound that said she’d decided that was the only avenue left worth pursuing, including the branch of her journey that involved Jason.
He had to do something. He had to say something. “I hear George in my head,” he blurted.
I don’t want to be drawn into this.
Darcy stared at him.
Jason nodded. “Since I moved into the house. He’s rather annoying. Doesn’t b
utt out of things that aren’t his business, and he stays out of things that are his business, like you and Pearl.”
“Prove it.” She leaned forward, drawing Stogey to her side and pushing her beer out of the way. Her eyes narrowed. “What does George say about me telling the world I married him to get to the bench?”
To zip it and quit prosecuting herself.
“He doesn’t think you should. He thinks you should stop judging yourself.”
Darcy shook her finger at Jason. “You tell him I know what he did. He and Henrik…They knew about my juvenile record. George knew I was all wrong for this.”
She’s always so certain she deserves nothing.
“When she deserves the world,” Jason murmured, heart swelling with love for her.
“I’m going to tell the world the truth about me and George and…and everything,” Darcy said sharply, slapping a twenty on the table and stuffing Stogey into his bed-in-a-bag. “Let them be my jury.”
“Okay.” Jason lifted his beer in a toast and drank some. “I think I know where you can do that.”
“You’re kidding me.” She regarded him suspiciously.
“Nope. Ken wants you to be on my interview show. Here’s your chance to come clean.” That wasn’t exactly how the widows had coached him to ask her to participate, but the point was to get Darcy to talk to him with moderators in his corner. And selfishly, Jason didn’t want Darcy to tell anyone the truth about George. It would only give them a target to shoot at. And Darcy had spent too many years as someone else’s target. “You come, and I’ll tell you if we’re married or not.” He told Darcy the date and time, and to meet at the yarn shop.
“Okay,” Darcy agreed, if hollowly. “I’m going to do this.”
Jason nodded. He saw Bitsy enter the bar and signaled her that Darcy needed a ride. She headed over, stopping to greet Ken and Avery.
Darcy continued to linger. “Do you hear me in your head? Or is it just George?”
“Just George.” He tapped his temple and drank in her sweet face. “But I wish you were with me. I wish you’d whisper when it’s appropriate to take your hand or wrap my arms around you or draw you close.”
Her cheeks pinkened. Her gaze touched his lips.
“But I’ll wait until you give me the word.”
She sighed. “I’m not good enough for you.”
“Do you really want to be a judge?”
His question surprised her. Darcy’s head drew back a little, and she blinked rapidly. “I think I do.”
“Then you should own it. Your way. Not George’s. Hair down. Heels high. Sentences that make sense to you, because you’re a Jones and a Harper and possibly a Petrie.”
“Why do people have faith in me in this job?” she whispered, clutching Stogey and his bag to her chest. “Why don’t I have it in myself?”
Jason leaned forward, lowering his voice. “Honey, you’re Judge Darcy Jones Harper Petrie.” Or she could be. “The odds have always been in your favor. All you have to do is look forward, not back.”
Her eyes widened.
I used to tell her that, George said softly as Darcy made for the exit.
“Yeah, well, she didn’t believe it when you said it.” Jason could only hope hearing it from him would make the message sink in.
* * *
“Is this beer taken?” Iggy slid into the booth across from Jason only a few minutes after Darcy and Bitsy left.
“That was Darcy’s but she left it to you.” Jason sipped his beer, continuing to contemplate the way he’d run his life for the past few years and coming to the conclusion that he hadn’t done such a great job when he wasn’t riding a bull. He needed to make some serious changes in his life. And he wasn’t the only one.
“It’s still cold.” Iggy drank it down happily.
Jason stared at his childhood friend. “I swear, if someone walked away from a pizza, you’d swoop in to get the last slice.”
“No joke. Good pizza and good beer should never go to waste.” Iggy removed his baseball cap and ran a hand over his hair. “You up to trying to ride Pennywhistle again tomorrow?”
“No.” He wasn’t riding again until he got the all clear from the orthopedic specialist. “Iggy, tell me the truth about Tom Bodine’s order.”
Iggy held up the empty beer bottle, catching Noah’s attention. “What does it matter?”
Jason reached across the table, grabbed his business partner by the neck of his T-shirt, and yanked him forward until they were nose to nose. “I’m an honest man. I won’t tolerate anything but honest business dealings.” He shoved Iggy back in his seat.
“Hey, I’m your partner.” Iggy straightened his T-shirt. “Not to mention your friend. How much have you had to drink?”
“One beer. Not even.” And he’d lost the thirst for more. Introspection tended to do that to a person when they admitted their own flaws. “Let me tell you about this partnership. I put up all the money into the business. I pay you a salary. Technically, you’re my employee. But because I love you like a brother, I called this a partnership.”
Iggy sat back, looking like he could use something stronger to drink than a beer.
“So when I ask you if Tom Bodine was given what he paid for, I want you to tell me the truth. Or so help me, I’ll find a new partner.” He pounded his fist on the table.
You’ve been hanging around too many judges.
Zip it, old man.
Noah approached the table. “Everything okay here?”
Jason stared at Iggy.
“Everything’s fine.” Iggy waited to say more until Noah was a safe distance away. “I’m ninety percent certain he got the right vials.”
Jason bit back a curse. “Iggy…”
“Truth.” Iggy set his beer down and held up his hands. “We’ve been going through part-time workers like rain through my fingers. We did a double collection one day from two different bulls and…” He shrugged. “That’s where the ten percent doubt comes in. I’m sorry, man. It won’t happen again.”
“You’re dang right it won’t.” Jason did swear this time. “This is my name. My reputation.”
“It is called Bull Puckey Breeding.” Iggy, being Iggy, couldn’t resist a dig. Or a mischievous smile. “Not Jason Petrie Breeding, which would sound stupid.”
Irrationally, Jason wanted to laugh. Because that was Ignacio King. A jokester.
“Here’s what’s going to happen.” Jason pushed his beer aside and leaned on the table. “We’re going to hire someone to work full-time. They’ll help you keep the place clean and in order. And they’ll be trained in product collection.”
“Okay, you’re the boss.” Iggy smirked.
Jason didn’t like that smirk. He reached across the table and pounded his fist near Iggy’s beer. “You didn’t let me finish. Ken is going to send someone to examine the books. If the accounts are in order…”—he slowed down, just in case Iggy had something else to confess—“then he’s going to present you with a partnership offer.”
Iggy stopped smirking and sat up taller. “For reals?”
“For reals.” Jason nodded, drawing back. “You’ll have to buy into the business. He’ll present you with options to do this.” He glanced over at Ken, who was having an intimate discussion with Avery. He was going to have to unfire him, because Ken was worth his weight in gold.
“Thanks, Jason. Seriously, man. You’re the best. And the books…The books are clean.”
“Good.” Jason clasped his hands on the table. “There’s one more thing you have to do for me. And it’s not going to be pretty.”
“Anything.” Iggy nodded.
“We’re shooting one last episode of Two Cowboys and a Little Old Lady on Sunday.”
“I’ll be there, man. I promise.” Iggy raised his beer to his lips and then set the bottle down untouched. “Is this the Darcy episode?”
Jason nodded.
“Oh, man. I wouldn’t miss this for nothing.”
Chapter
Twenty-One
All rise for the Honorable Judge Harper.”
It didn’t escape Darcy’s notice that she’d earned an Honorable from Ronald. She was earning their respect with her performance and she couldn’t have been prouder. But would that be enough that people like Ronald and Tina Marie could get past the nepotism?
Darcy settled Stogey under her desk and sank into George’s big, creaky chair, making a mental note to have it oiled. “What do we have on the docket this morning?”
Hopefully, it was something to keep her mind off Jason, who seemed to have a closer relationship with her deceased husband than she did.
“Tina Marie? Ronald? Anybody?” Darcy snapped, immediately apologizing for losing her temper. She shouldn’t have worn her hair down today. She should have kept it as conservatively fastened as the locked door on her temper.
“I’m sorry, Your Honor.” Tina Marie stood. She hadn’t had a schedule of cases ready this morning, claiming lawyers and defendants weren’t cooperating with scheduling. She’d been trying to pull in some cases today that had originally been scheduled for later in the month. Tina Marie handed Darcy a folder. “Up next.”
“This is the case of John Borrington versus the people.” Keli came to stand next to Tina Marie. “Petty theft. Harassment. Lying to a police officer. We’re here today for sentencing.”
Glancing at the case file, Darcy felt like she was facing down a Jones relative.
The sheriff moved to stand beside Keli while Darcy familiarized herself with the case. She read the defendant the range of penalties for his crimes. “Mr. Borrington, I’ve perused your case file.” Darcy hadn’t been impressed. “You’ve been given many opportunities and yet you continue to return to this court.”
“It wasn’t my fault. I therefore plead not guilty.” Mr. Borrington was apparently representing himself.
“You entered your plea in front of Judge Johnson.” And he’d waived his right to trial, which seemed the norm in this district. Darcy glanced around the gallery to make sure Reese wasn’t available to advise this man. “Before I sentence, let’s hear from the sheriff first.”
Dream a Little Dream Page 24
