Colorado Christmas. C.C. Coburn
themselves loose, softening her face and contrasting with her otherwise flawless presentation. She looked serious in a strangely attractive way and would probably send him to the slammer, if she could guess his thoughts. She looked up, trained her green eyes on Will and he felt something hit him deep in his gut.
Every year at their wedding anniversary party, Mac O’Malley told the story of how he vowed he’d marry their mother, Sarah, the moment he laid eyes on her. Until now, Will had believed that was just Irish blarney.
Convinced he was gazing at the woman he’d marry and needing to share his feelings with Matt, he murmured, “I’m going to marry that woman someday.”
JUDGE REBECCA MCBRIDE had finished her previous case concerning a pig called Louella who’d run amok in a dress boutique. Feeling as though she was caught up in reruns of Green Acres, she wondered yet again, Why on earth did I take this job?
Steeling herself, she glanced up, ready to face the next bizarre case. Her eyes locked with the defendant’s and her heart rate kicked up several notches.
Who knew this town of four ski mountains, three sets of traffic lights, 2,597 residents and one extremely naughty pig had some attractions, after all?
“Shut up!” Deputy O’Malley hissed.
Becky peered over the top of her glasses. “Were you speaking to me?”
“No, Judge. I was speaking to my—” he glared at the defendant “—brother.”
That would explain the striking similarity. However, Deputy O’Malley was, as always, dressed immaculately, while his brother wore faded blue jeans, tan cowboy boots and a chambray shirt that stretched across broad shoulders. His neatly pressed shirt was at odds with his too-long black hair.
“The defendant is my younger brother, Judge. Any resemblance ends with our appearance,” the deputy said.
She clasped her hands in front of her, steepled her thumbs and gave the defendant her most intimidating stare. “Mr. O’Malley, you’ve been charged with damaging demolition equipment belonging to the Mountain Resorts Development Company. How do you plead?”
“Guilty, Your Honor.”
His admission surprised her. So did her own response to his deep-dimpled smile. It went clear up to his dark brown eyes and did inexplicable things to her insides.
She took a deep, calming breath before saying, “Why did you vandalize the vehicles?”
“The company has bought an entire block at the north end of Main Street. They want to demolish the existing buildings in order to erect an eight-story condominium complex and shopping mall,” he explained.
“Those buildings are derelict. I should think a shopping mall and housing—given the town’s shortage—would rejuvenate the area,” Becky pointed out.
“Granted. But they’re fine examples of Colorado Victorian architecture. Although many haven’t been occupied since the gold mines closed back in ’49, with sensitive renovation they could be restored to their former glory.”
Becky admired his passion, if not his grasp on reality. In her opinion, some of the buildings would blow over in a good breeze. “As they aren’t part of the protected Victorian district, the owners can do what they like with them.”
“If you’ll pardon the expression, Your Honor, certain aspects of the town’s planning stink. There’s been no public input into this development. The mayor’s on the board of the development company and there’s something very wrong with that picture. If we don’t take a stand now, Spruce Lake could wind up full of concrete condos and shopping malls. Once those buildings are demolished, we won’t be able to get them back. Our town’s unique heritage should be preserved and I’m prepared to do anything to ensure that.”
Despite his casual appearance, Becky conceded he was both articulate and public-spirited. “Your passion is admirable if a little misguided, sir. You vandalized private property and you’ll have to be punished for it.”
“Your Honor? If I could speak in my brother’s favor.”
Becky inclined her head.
The deputy scowled at his brother. “Will tends to be impetuous. Sometimes his enthusiasm gets in the way of his good intentions.”
The court audience murmured their assent.
“In spite of how irresponsibly he acted last night, Will’s a fine person…This was his first offence and, ah, he’s extremely kind to animals, children and the elderly.”
“Deputy O’Malley, that’s enough.” Becky was losing her patience. She consulted the documents, then returned her attention to Will. “It states here that you entered private property and let the air out of the demolition vehicles’ tires.”
He grinned, as though enormously pleased with his achievement. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Why?” she asked, and reached for a glass of water to cover the hoarseness in her voice. Surely he wasn’t trying to flirt with her?
“The development company moved in their equipment, although the contract for sale hasn’t closed yet. To prevent them from demolishing anything, a number of concerned citizens formed a human chain around the buildings while I flattened all the tires.”
When the audience cheered, Becky surmised most of them were probably part of that “human chain.”
She banged her gavel and ordered, “Silence!” Fixing him with her sternest glare, she said, “You also painted unflattering messages on their vehicles.”
The audience laughed and several wolf-whistled. “Way to go, boy,” Frank Farquar yelled, and Louella gave a snort of agreement.
Becky swore she could see steam rising from Matt O’Malley’s ears. “What’s that blasted pig still doing here?” she hissed at the bailiff.
“Louella is your next case. She ate the giant pumpkin Frank’s cousin Hank was raising for the county fair.”
Becky glanced at her list and groaned. She’d skimmed over the wretched pig’s name when perusing her caseload and failed to notice that Louella—listed as Ms. L. Farquar—was appearing on another offence. She fought the urge to put her forehead on the bench and bang it. Instead, she made a note to her clerk that pigs were not to be listed as defendants in her court—only their owners! That done, she made another note to check if the county ordinances covered reasons for disposing of pesky pigs. Louella was Public Nuisance Number One. That pig is going to end up bacon if she doesn’t start behaving herself, she decided. Louella had the exasperating habit of causing an enormous amount of damage wherever she waddled. Any normal person would leave his pig at home, rather than taking it shopping, but Frank Farquar treated Louella like an overindulged child.
She closed her eyes and uttered a silent oath. If I can put up with this hick town for six months, I’ll have a better chance of being posted to a court in Denver—or anywhere that isn’t Spruce Lake. Provided I don’t end up going crazy first!
She’d rashly accepted her first judicial appointment after having worked in a Denver law firm for several years. When she’d failed to make partner for the third time—the job being given yet again to a male associate—Becky resigned and applied for the vacancy in Peaks County, viewing the six-month posting as a stepping-stone to a position in a metropolitan court. In the four weeks she’d been in Spruce Lake—standing in for Judge Emily Stevens while she took maternity leave—Becky had earned a reputation as a straight talker who meted out justice with a dose of blunt advice on how to stay out of her court in future. Not that any of them seem to take it, she thought, surveying the full courtroom. She couldn’t wait to get back to the city—any city—where people weren’t permitted to bring their pigs to court.
“May I say something, Your Honor?”
“Do you really think that’s wise?”
Will O’Malley