Oops. If Bitsy hadn’t known the truth about her marriage to George, she did now. Darcy braced herself for the older woman’s reaction.
“Everyone approaches relationships differently.” Bitsy gave Darcy a sheepish grin. “Mama was jaded after divorcing my father. She said she never wanted to pledge herself to a man again for fear she’d lose herself. George gave her love and space. I think she got scared when he proposed.”
They fell silent. Stogey panted. Birds chirped. Darcy worried she’d said too much. And her dead husband turned tight-lipped.
Bitsy clasped her hands around one knee. “And now Mama’s got all this energy bunched up inside of her, bottled up by grief.”
“I think they had an unresolved argument.” Darcy set Stogey on the porch.
Exactly so, George said.
Stogey trotted jauntily down the steps, tail wagging in time to his gas expulsion—poof-poof-poof.
Bitsy waved a hand in front of her face, taking it all in stride. “You may be right. What should we do?”
“I don’t know. It’s hard to win an argument with a dead man.”
* * *
After all that had gone on Friday morning—a visit from Jason and then Bitsy, and then a trip to the vet—it was no surprise that Darcy was late to the office.
And Tina Marie was determined that she know it. “Judge George Harper was in every day at seven thirty. I’m here every morning at eight a.m.”
It was nine.
Darcy stopped in front of her assistant’s desk, her secret marriage to Jason pressing on the back of her tongue, fighting for release, along with a few choice words about her predecessor. A pregnant hausfrau, George? The longer she chewed on that, the more annoyed she became. Darcy cleared her throat. “I had to take Stogey to the vet. He’s had a weird reaction to his pain meds.”
Tina Marie bent her head over a case file as if she wasn’t interested in listening.
“He’s under observation.” Darcy laughed self-consciously, shooting for casual and missing the mark completely. “Anxiety is no joke.” Her own nerves were strung tighter than the trip wire to a booby trap.
“The dog was fine when the judge was alive.”
“Right.” Darcy retreated to her office. There was an overwhelming amount of folders on the big desk that hadn’t been there the day before. It was going to take her hours to review everything.
Henrik had instructed Tina Marie to schedule the return to a working caseload for Monday, starting with sentencing hearings. Darcy had one office workday to catch up. The role of judge loomed large and daunting.
Don’t you even think about walking away, George said sharply.
You lost privileges to tell me what to do, George, when you said you were saving me from myself.
“What’s that?” Tina Marie asked.
“Nothing,” Darcy said quickly. She didn’t want her assistant to add talking to herself to her list of Darcy’s faults.
Sheriff Drew Taylor popped in, looking handsome in his brown-and-tan uniform. “Lola told me you’d be here this morning.” He’d married her last year.
Odd that Darcy used to think she and Jason would be the first of their friends to get married.
You were the first to be married—twice.
Not funny, George.
“What’s that?” Drew asked.
“Nothing.” Darcy was going to have to stick to her vow to stop talking to George.
“Congratulations on your appointment. Will you sign my search warrant?” Drew flashed Darcy a boyish smile and handed the paperwork over.
Her first official request.
Darcy took the documents with hands that trembled. “I believe this is where you provide me with just cause to search.” She tried to smile and look as if she received requests for search warrants every day but her lips quivered as much as the paper she held. Search warrants often led to arrests, and in some cases, the separation of families, a state she’d been all too familiar with growing up.
Drew closed the door and pulled up a chair. “Nervous?”
On this side of a search warrant? “Yes. Clearly, I need to work on my court face.”
Drew proceeded to explain the situation. It was as she’d feared. There were children living where Drew wanted to search. A single dad was suspected of fencing stolen jewelry. She felt ill but authorized his search warrant anyway.
After working through lunch, Darcy left at four to pick up Stogey.
“We switched him to a pain reliever that’s an antipsychotic,” the vet told her. “You should see a difference in his anxiety. If not, give us another call. If it’s the antibiotics causing the gas…well, you’ll be done in seven more days.”
Upset by the day at the vet, Stogey trembled in her lap all the way home, where they found Pearl in the kitchen. She removed a small dish of lasagna from the oven. The altered judge’s robe hung from a coat hook near the kitchen door. It looked freshly pressed and ready for public inspection.
Pearl, on the other hand…She looked like she’d been crying.
Darcy set Stogey down. He took refuge under the kitchen table. He lay down, chin on his paws, and stared up at Darcy as if preparing for the worst.
“Would you like to eat with me?” Darcy asked Pearl tentatively.
“I’m not hungry.” Pearl’s voice shook the way a person’s did when they were holding all the smashed inside parts together. It felt like Pearl was one tear shy of a complete collapse.
Most people, including you, are tougher than they look.
You’re heartless, George.
I’m detached, which is the trait of all good judges.
“Here, doggy-doggy-doggy.” Pearl made a half-hearted attempt to call Stogey, who didn’t budge.
The woman needed something more than Darcy could give to get her through her grief. Something more…
“Pearl, you should take a memento from the house. Something that reminds you of George and gives you comfort, like Stogey gives me.”
The older woman stared at Stogey and then lifted her gaze to Darcy’s. There was enough sorrow in her eyes to last a lifetime. “George loved that dog.” But increasingly, there was something more in her eyes. Something hard and calculating. “George would have wanted me to have Stogey.”
“What?” Darcy didn’t have to think twice. “No.”
Pearl staggered back as if she’d been stabbed. Darcy grabbed hold of her in case she fainted.
“But you just said I could have anything.” Anger built in Pearl’s voice and she shrugged free of Darcy. “George loved him, and I want him.”
They stared at each other.
“But you have your cat.” It was the wrong thing to say.
Pearl drew a sharp intake of breath. Bitsy would be heartened by Pearl’s glare.
Darcy wasn’t heartened. She was unnerved. She moved between Pearl and Stogey.
Say something, George.
Silence rang in Darcy’s ears, drowning out whatever George had to say. If he had anything to say. Because really, what man stepped between his mistress and his wife? George might be dead, but he wasn’t stupid.
“You took George and now you want Stogey too?” Pearl’s voice rang with indignation.
“Yes.” Darcy couldn’t have explained it. She just knew that Stogey had stolen a part of her heart and she couldn’t let him go.
“You won’t get away with this.” Pearl shook her thin finger at Darcy. “I won’t let you. That dog is mine. It was what George wanted because I’m patient and kind.” She bolted out the door, slamming it behind her.
The sound echoed in the empty house.
No Jason. No George. No Pearl.
No family, real or bonded by circumstance.
“I’m alone, except for you.” Darcy sank slowly to her knees, reaching for Stogey. “Come on, Stogey. Come on, boy.”
Stogey tooted and stayed where he was.
Chapter Seven
Saturday afternoon, Jason answered a call from his prot
égé, Mark Knox, on the first ring.
“Hey, dude. What’s up?” He put aside the broom he’d been using and settled into an office chair at Bull Puckey Breeding, grateful for the distraction from trying to solve the impasse he had come to with Darcy. “Did you go eight seconds this weekend?”
“He did not.” Spoken with sarcasm by a familiar, masculine voice that didn’t belong to Mark. “Mark’s in the hospital recovering from surgery. Why haven’t you answered my calls? You think dodging your agent’s phone calls and ignoring his texts is professional?”
Busted. “Don’t act so surprised. It’s like you’ve always said.” Jason swiveled the ball cap he was wearing until the bill sat at the back of his head. “I’m a bull riding prima donna.” Good thing he was sitting down. Lightning struck his thigh, causing his foot to kick out.
“I should fire you,” Ken quipped.
“Isn’t that my line? You’re supposed to keep my sponsors happy and my bank balance high.”
Ken scoffed. “Role reversal. You’ve got to be on the money board or make a buzz on social media for that to happen.”
Jason didn’t want the reminder that he was remiss in the care and feeding of his career. “Enough about me. Why do you have Mark’s phone?” When he’d taken Mark under his wing last year, Jason had convinced Ken to take him on too.
“Mark got thrown by a feral beast.” Ken dropped the sarcasm. “New bovine blood from some ranch in the wilds of Idaho. That bull broke Mark’s arm in two places. Good thing I was there to fill out the medical forms and sit at his bedside since you were AWOL.”
Swearing, Jason turned his ball cap back around. “How is he?”
“Shaken, as anyone would be,” Ken said crisply. Blood and gore didn’t faze him. “It’s Mark’s first real injury, and he’s beginning to realize he’s not invincible. I was thinking about bringing him up for a visit instead of home to his mama, who is sure to say I told you so and beg him to stay in her care. Surprisingly, I feel you’ll be able to talk him out of quitting.”
“You want to come here?” That wasn’t like Ken. He might represent rodeo competitors, but he was New York all the way. He’d never been to Sunshine.
“I’ll make the sacrifice,” Ken said dryly. “Besides, while you get Mark’s head on straight, I’ll fix whatever’s ailing you and jump-start some contract negotiations with our new corporate partners. In terms of homework, you better have something more interesting to show me than a bull semen operation.”
Jason pressed his palm into his aching leg scar. “Yeah. Fine. I’ll clue you in on what I’ve been doing when you get here.” Better to hold the news until Ken arrived that he’d been up to nothing but repairing his personal life and waiting for his leg pain to go away.
As soon as Jason disconnected, three members of the Widows Club board entered the office, shepherded by Iggy.
“And this is where we keep all our product before shipment.” Iggy gave Jason a pleading look, one begging for a defensive save against the invasion of sweet, elderly women. “And look, here’s a bachelor who actually agreed to be put up for auction. If you have Jason Petrie, you don’t need Iggy King.”
The reason for Iggy’s plea became clear. He was rarely an auctioned bachelor. He much preferred bidding on bachelorettes to being bought.
Edith scurried over to a large, metal cryogenic unit, one of several in the room. “You keep the bull swimmers in here? Can I see?” She reached for the latch release, almost quicker than Iggy was in getting there to stop her.
“We don’t like to open and close the cryo unit.” Iggy leaned on the top, not as casual as he probably wanted to appear.
“I imagine it’s like opening and closing your freezer at home.” Using the toe of her hunting boot, Mims moved a dirty pair of coveralls on the floor toward the wall. “You wouldn’t want to give their product freezer burn, Edith.”
“Exactly.” Jason mimicked Iggy, leaning on top of the next cryogenic unit down. Edith seemed the kind of woman who followed her curiosity gene rather than respecting someone’s boundaries. “Other than looking for auction recruits, what brings you ladies by today?”
“You, of course.” Clarice rested her arms on her walking stick. “You and that relationship advice vlog. It’s Saturday. We had a date at the yarn shop.”
Jason opened his mouth to deny his involvement, but then he remembered that his agent was coming and expected him to have something in the works. This was just the kind of venture that Ken would disapprove of. Ken would make sure the vlog was over before it ever got off the ground. “Okay.”
“Okay?” Iggy nearly fell off the cryogenic unit. He lowered his voice. “Does this mean you’ve given up on getting back together with a certain ex-girlfriend?”
“No. It means this better help me win Darcy back.”
* * *
I COME BEARING GIFTS.
Jason’s text arrived around dinnertime on Saturday and made Darcy’s skin prickle. He’d attached a photograph of a package of pumpkin-and-oatmeal soft dog treats that promised to be delicate on a dog’s system.
Darcy was curled in a chair in the sunroom, Stogey in her lap, watching the late-afternoon sun turn the calm pond a satiny blue gold.
It had been twenty-four hours since Pearl had demanded custody of Stogey. In that time, Darcy hadn’t found the old woman in her kitchen, lurking in George’s bedroom, or pacing the hallway. It hadn’t stopped Darcy from listening for the creak of floors or the soft mumble of Pearl’s grief. Hadn’t stopped guilt from lingering in her thoughts like a bad meme stuck on repeat.
ARE YOU HOME?
She’d turned down an offer of dinner and a movie from Avery, mostly because she knew they’d end up at Shaw’s later. There’d be beer. There’d be a band. There’d be dancing. But a judge shouldn’t be seen out drinking and dancing.
You’ll get used to staying in, George said sternly.
Would she? It might be nice to create a ripple or two.
George harrumphed.
Jason sent a house emoji and a question mark.
Darcy smiled. “Those treats might be worth a try,” she told Stogey, ignoring George. Nothing she’d tried to feed Stogey was forgiving on his medicated system. She didn’t want to give Pearl a reason to take him away from her.
I CAN JUST HAND THEM TO YOU AND LEAVE.
A likely story, George groused.
Jason sent a picture of himself at the front gate.
It was a nice gesture, helped by his handsome, nonpressuring smile.
He’s one of the few people in town who still like me, George.
George seemed to scoff in her head.
Jason’s gesture was thoughtful, and given the fact that they were married, she couldn’t avoid him forever. They needed to talk about next steps.
Talk. Her pulse quickened.
Unbidden, a troublesome thought surfaced: And there are my conjugal rights!
Judges are above hanky-panky! George was in fine form today.
“We’re just accepting Stogey’s treats,” Darcy said aloud to drown out George in her head. She set the dog on the floor and texted Jason that he was to drive to the garage in back. It couldn’t be seen from the road.
Darcy went to the security panel and unlocked the gate. And then she darted into the bathroom, smoothing her loose hair and ruing the fact that she wore no makeup and was dressed in a faded Colorado University T-shirt over a pair of comfy gray leggings that were stained in random spots by colored bleach. There was no time to primp or change. Besides, he’d said she was beautiful no matter what she wore. This was his chance to prove it.
Judges are above—
“No one,” Darcy finished over George’s reference to hanky-panky. “Especially judges who have arguments with dead husbands.”
Jason’s truck rumbled past the house and to the garage in back.
Darcy slipped on her red Keds and led Stogey out to meet him. The afternoon light was fading, softening edges. She was a Jones. She wouldn�
��t let it soften hers.
Jason hopped out of his big white truck. Darcy checked out her husband from the ground up. Brown cowboy boots, faded blue jeans, a dark-blue T-shirt that hugged all those muscles. He wore a ball cap over his blond hair. And then he removed his sunglasses and smiled at her, bringing forth those endearing dimples. Darcy’s mouth went dry.
Thankfully, her Keds remained rooted to the ground. It was Stogey who rushed forward to greet him.
“You look rested.” Jason knelt to scratch Stogey behind the ears, glancing around the property. “Sweet pond. Mind if I take a look?”
“Actually…”
He’d already set off toward the shore, where two green Adirondack chairs sat facing the water. He carried the bag of dog treats and a manila envelope.
She followed at a slower pace because he looked nearly as good going as coming, and it’d been a long time since she’d allowed herself to look at any man the way a single woman would.
Not that I’m single. I’m married to Jason.
She did so love the way her cowboy walked, like the world was his oyster.
Not that he’s mine in anything other than the legal sense.
George cleared his throat as if uncomfortable with her thoughts.
Jason sat in a chair and opened the bag of dog treats. “Let’s give one of these a try, boy.”
Stogey took the small biscuit and worked it around his mouth, whimpering as he tried to find a way to chew without hurting.
“Sorry.” Jason gave him a pat, glancing at Darcy as she leaned on the back of the other chair. “Rosalie at the pet store said these are soft chews, but based on Stogey’s reaction they might not be soft enough. Maybe you should save them until he recovers some more.” He closed the package and smiled tenderly at Darcy.
His hand brushed lightly over his thigh. They’d been together so long that she knew how to translate the gesture. It was an unspoken invitation to sit in his lap. To have his arms around her. To talk the language they understood best.
What would be the harm—
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