Colorado Christmas Read online

  The judge paused in her note-taking and glanced up at him.

  “You’re a ski-movie actor?” Her tone told him exactly what she thought of that.

  “Yes, ma’am. Although it’s more stunt work than acting,” he said, trying to downplay the glamour image associated with acting. Stunt work sounded as though he had a genuine career. He named some box-office successes. “Perhaps you’ve heard of Vertical Slide? Extreme Dreams? Aspen Altitude?”

  The judge blinked. Guess not. Although it was tremendously lucrative, he wouldn’t be going back to the movies. He’d traveled for ten years doing what he loved most—skiing the world’s extreme terrain—but an avalanche had nearly claimed his life during shooting in the Andes two months ago. He’d been caught in dozens of avalanches before and, tragically, had friends die in them, but this time he’d come too close to death. Trapped and slowly suffocating while he awaited rescue, he’d reflected on his life and how pointless his career really was. Sure, the viewers enjoyed the action and probably the scenery, too, but the lifestyle was shallow, based on thrill-seeking, looking cool and never putting down roots. What had he really achieved that was worthwhile? What had he given back to his community? What would his epitaph say?

  “I’ve retired from that line of work,” he murmured.

  “So you have a lot of time on your hands?”

  Will winced. He wasn’t used to sitting still. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Then what are you good at that could be utilized by the local community?” she asked, sounding exasperated.

  “Skiing, meeting women and ironing.”

  Will ignored Matt’s glare. It was true—he enjoyed ironing. He’d gotten up to more than his share of mischief as a kid and his mom’s punishment of choice was to make him do the ironing for their family of seven. In the process, he’d become an expert. Even Matt was impressed by his skill with an iron. He’d offer Matt several hours of free ironing to make up for the embarrassment he’d caused him over the protest.

  “Maybe I could work at the information kiosk on Main Street?” he suggested. “I know a lot about the town.”

  “IRONING?” BECKY SAID, deliberately ignoring his suggestion regarding the information kiosk. She suspected he thought working there would be an excellent way of meeting women. The notion of a defendant—particularly this one—spending his community service flirting annoyed her. What annoyed her even more was her ridiculous, bordering-on-jealous contemplation of him flirting with other women.

  “Ahh…Judge? I don’t think that’s a good idea—”

  “Deputy O’Malley!” she snapped. “Please do not interrupt me.” Returning her attention to the defendant, she fixed him with a glare that brooked no argument. “In addition to cleaning the development company’s vehicles, you’ll complete fifty hours of community service.

  “As you apparently enjoy the company of senior citizens and have no real qualifications, you can do the ironing and shovel snow at the Twilight Years Retirement Home. You have one month to complete your assigned service. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Becky wished he’d stop calling her that, especially in that lazy drawl of his. It woke long-buried desires. She’d been so busy with her career and raising her young son—the result of her short-lived marriage—that sex and romance simply weren’t on her agenda. Yet from the moment Will O’Malley had looked up at her and smiled, she’d felt a bolt of sexual awareness she hadn’t experienced in a very long time—if ever.

  She checked his details. He was thirty-two—four years younger than she was. Definitely not what Becky wanted in her life—a younger man, especially one who was irresponsible and had no respect for authority or the law. A charming rogue was not the answer to her sexual frustration. Not that she was aware she had any until he’d walked into her courtroom. She needed to get him out of there, fast. “If there’s nothing further—”

  “Well, I do have a question…”

  “Yes, Mr. O’Malley?”

  “Would you have dinner with me tonight?”

  Becky blinked. Surely she hadn’t heard him correctly. “Excuse me?” she said, and tried to ignore the warm flush climbing up her chest.

  “I asked if you’d go out with me tonight.”

  The court audience leaned forward, eagerly anticipating her response.

  Will O’Malley was without doubt the best-looking defendant who’d ever stood before her. The fact that he’d pleaded guilty straight up—rather than offer a host of excuses—impressed her. But he was a defendant and strictly off-limits.

  Furious that her body was telling her one thing, while her brain told her another, Becky answered him more harshly than she’d intended. “No, Mr. O’Malley, I won’t,” she said and slammed down her gavel. “Get out of my court!”

  Chapter Two

  “That went better than I expected,” Will said as he and Matt walked outside into the crisp winter morning.

  Snow had fallen overnight, turning the town into a perfect Christmas card scene. Skiers trudged along the sidewalks, headed for the slopes, while sightseers gazed into shop fronts, admiring the Christmas displays. Carols sounded merrily from the tourist office. The holidays were only a couple of weeks away—Will’s favorite time of year.

  Matt sighed. “Define better than you expected. You’ve been assigned fifty hours of community service and had the judge very publicly turn you down for a date. Doesn’t anything ever get you down?”

  Will shrugged. “Nothing I can think of at the moment—apart from losing those old buildings.” He couldn’t tell Matt about the avalanche and the nightmares. Not yet.

  “Don’t you feel humiliated?”

  “Nope. I deserved the punishment and I’ll enjoy spending time at the old folks’ home. Lots of interesting characters there. As for the delectable judge, she’ll come around.”

  Matt rubbed his chin. “I’m not so sure. She keeps to herself.” He paused. “And don’t you dare even think of pursuing her and then take off on another one of your crazy adventures, leaving the rest of us to pick up the pieces.”

  Will opened his mouth to answer the accusations but, as usual, Matt hadn’t finished telling him off. “And what the hell was all that, ‘I’m going to marry that woman someday,’ nonsense?”

  Will grinned and said, “Bashert.”

  Matt’s eyes narrowed. His voice dripping with mock sarcasm, he said, “You spent two weeks skiing in Israel last winter and now you speak fluent Hebrew?”

  “Actually, it’s Yiddish. And I’m far from fluent. Bashert is the instant recognition of one’s soul mate.”

  “I’m aware of what it is! It happened for me with Sally,” Matt said testily, referring to the deep and instant love he’d felt for his wife. But a drunk driver had killed Sally two years earlier. She was seven months pregnant at the time.

  “And Dad with Mom,” Will said, trying to distract Matt from grieving over Sally. He wasn’t comfortable with deep emotion. “Seems like bashert’s an O’Malley tradition.”

  “Not where Luke’s concerned.”

  Their oldest brother’s ex-wife, Tory, had made Luke’s life a living hell. Although he’d been divorced for a couple of years now, Luke was still a grouch.

  “True. But I’m positive about the judge.”

  Matt raised a sardonic eyebrow. “Really? You haven’t checked out her other assets. For all you know, hidden behind that bench might be three hairy legs and a pointed tail.”

  Will grinned at his brother’s rare attempt at levity. “You’ve been reading too many of those kiddie fantasy novels to young Sash.” Sasha was one of their much-adored nieces and Luke’s oldest daughter.

  “Speaking of children, the judge has one of her own.”

  “She’s married?” Will felt sick to his stomach.

  Matt placed a hand on his shoulder. “Relax. She’s divorced. But I’m sure the thought of having to compete with another child—” Matt emphasized the word “—for the judge’s attention, should be
enough to quench your fires.”

  Ignoring the jibe, he said, “A kid? How d’you know?”

  “Because I listen to people.”

  “So you’ve had the opportunity to chat with the object of my affections?”

  “I have.”

  “And?”

  “And what?”

  “Is she as immune to your charms as she’s trying to be to mine?”

  “I think you could confidently say she’s completely immune to your charms.”

  “On the contrary. I think she’s intrigued.”

  “Yeah. Right. Face it, buddy, Judge McBride is way too disciplined for someone as unruly as you. Still, stranger things have happened—especially in Spruce Lake.” He glanced at his watch. “I have to go back to work, but before I do, I’ve got to ask—this protest movement you’re getting together…who’s heading it up?”

  Will puffed out his chest. “Me, of course. And we’ve called it Save Our Buildings or SOB, ’cause it’d be a crying shame to lose them.”

  Matt shook his head. “Trust you to come up with such an absurd acronym. Can I be blunt with you?”

  “Fire away.”

  “There seems to be a groundswell of support for your crazy idea—”

  Will threw up his hands. “It is not crazy!”

  “Okay…let’s call it well-meaning but totally irrational.”

  Will nodded. “That’s much better.” He enjoyed sparring with Matt.

  “What I’m trying to get across to you is that this protest—if you can get enough support for it—has the potential of becoming huge, and if you walk away without following through, you’re going to disappoint a lot of people. No, more than that, you’re going to hurt them because they believe in you.”

  “I told you I’m here to stay. Why do you doubt me?”

  “Because I know your past record! And when it finally gets through your thick skull that the judge isn’t interested, you’ll head off to the ends of the earth on another harebrained adventure.”

  Will was about to repeat that he was here to stay, but Matt was on a roll.

  “You breeze into town, stopping for a few days, before you fly off to make yet another movie in some far-off location,” Matt ranted. “You’ve never shown any interest in sticking with anything worthwhile. Why change now?”

  Although his tirade stung, Matt was right. Not so long ago, Will wouldn’t have been ready to hear it, or to agree with Matt. But his brush with death had changed Will’s view of the world and his place in it. The avalanche had made him realize the carefree days of his extended youth were over. Did he really want to spend his life flying around the world, engaging in increasingly more daring stunts, living out of a suitcase? The answer was a resounding no.

  He’d come home—to the certain safety of Spruce Lake—determined to settle in his hometown. Unfortunately, he hadn’t figured out how he’d make a living here. The judge had underlined something he already knew: Apart from being able to ski near-vertical cliffs, he didn’t have any real skills. And therefore no alternative career prospects.

  However, discovering that the old buildings were threatened with demolition had confirmed Spruce Lake was an intrinsic part of him and saving them was a cause worth fighting for. “I won’t have our town’s heritage destroyed by a bunch of shiny Tonka toys!” he declared.

  “That’s what you say now. Next week might be a different story.”

  Will gritted his teeth. “I said I’m here to stay.”

  “Fine.” Matt’s curled lip told Will he doubted his convictions. “If you’re as determined as you claim to be, I’ll do whatever I can. And if you’re so hell-bent on dating the judge, then let me talk to her on your behalf. I’ll tell her you’re a generally well-behaved citizen who’s temporarily taken leave of his senses. She’d believe it coming from me. She might even let you date her, then.”

  She probably would, but that’d be cheating. His big brother couldn’t help sticking up for him. Protecting him—protecting anyone—came naturally to Matt.

  “Thanks for the offer, but I want to win her over myself. She’s already intrigued. Soon, she won’t be able to resist me, you’ll see.”

  “And you figured this out in your brief yet humiliating encounter this morning?” Matt shook his head. “Your overconfidence astounds me, Will. And the protest, what about that? And your job? The one you pretended you don’t have? What was that about, saying you’re ‘between jobs’? And speaking of your job, you’ve been here nearly two weeks. It’s winter in case you hadn’t noticed. Prime ski-movie shooting season.”

  Will disregarded Matt’s sarcasm. “Like I said in court, I quit the movies.” He held up his hands to allay Matt’s questions as to why. “SOB will keep me busy.” When he saw Matt about to argue, he said, “I’m not going to suddenly take off, okay?”

  Matt leaned against his vehicle. “Do you have a plan—apart from continuing to vandalize the development company’s property?”

  “I do.”

  “And?”

  Pleased by Matt’s interest, he said, “I’m holding a fundraising barbecue.”

  Matt’s raised eyebrows told Will what he thought of that. “And plan B would be?”

  “There is no plan B! What’s wrong with plan A?”

  Matt indicated the snow-covered street. “It’s winter. No one has barbecues in the middle of winter.”

  “All the more reason to have one. People hankering for barbecue will come from all over.”

  “And where do you plan to hold this event? Close off Main Street like they do during the summer barbecue festival? You’ll need a permit and we both know how much you hate dealing with bureaucracy.”

  “Don’t need one if we hold it at the ranch.”

  Matt rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right. Running it by Luke will be harder than getting a permit from the town. Good luck with that.” He pushed away from his vehicle. “Do you want a ride somewhere?”

  “Thanks, but I need to stretch my legs and get some fresh air. Then I’ll walk over to the Twilight Years and start my community service.”

  Matt clapped him on the shoulder. “Good idea. I can’t fault your work ethic, buddy, but I wish you were a bit more conventional.”

  Will raised his hands in jest. “Then I’d be like you.”

  Matt let the mild insult go as he shook Will’s hand, then climbed into his vehicle and lowered the window. “I just had a thought.”

  “You, Matt O’Malley, had a spontaneous moment?”

  Matt started his car. “Okay, if you’re going to be insulting, I’ll go.”

  Will reached in and switched off the ignition. “Sorry, couldn’t stop myself.” He leaned on the door frame and said, “Shoot.”

  “You know that ranch land you bought ten years back?”

  “Yup.”

  “I think you’ll find it’s appreciated considerably in value.”

  Will was lost. “Meaning?”

  “Meaning that if you’re serious about saving those buildings, then get the land valued. You might be able to sell it and raise enough to buy the buildings from the development company yourself.”

  “You’re joking.”

  “Have you ever known me to joke?”

  Good point. “But this is crazy. I paid peanuts for it.”

  “Times have changed. You might be surprised by what it’s worth.”

  “Nice idea. But I’m keeping the land as a wildlife corridor. Where would the elk graze and the bears collect berries to get them through the winter and the lynx hunt if I sold it? I couldn’t have some rancher fencing it off, grazing cows and horses and shooting anything that eats the grass—or the livestock.”

  “You know as well as I do it’s too small to be a viable ranch, but in the past couple of years they’ve started developing ranchettes for people who want to be near a town but also want the luxury of extra land. That valley is the prettiest around and people would pay a premium to live there.”

  Ranchettes? Will shuddered. �
��Even if I could raise the money to buy the buildings—provided the development company would consider selling them—I’d have the problem of a bunch of disgruntled elk and bears.” He ignored Matt’s sardonic look and explained, “I couldn’t live with myself if I sold it to someone to carve up into tiny plots. Sorry, Matt, but it doesn’t work for me.”

  “Five- to ten-acre lots aren’t tiny. You’re never going to graze that land. You’re allergic to horses, remember?”

  At the reminder of his allergy, Will sneezed, then scratched his shoulder. “Speaking of allergies, can I stay with you for a while?” Will suspected Luke had put him in the apartment above the stables on purpose, hoping he’d move on—preferably to another country. The smell of hay and horses had him sneezing for at least an hour every morning, and Luke kept hinting that if Will wasn’t doing any useful work around the ranch, he should leave.

  “I’d rather have my teeth pulled without benefit of anesthetic than share living quarters with you ever again,” Matt said.

  “There’s no need to get personal. I’ve grown up since the last time we lived together.”

  “Not enough to let you move in,” he muttered.

  True, he’d pulled a few shots in his past, and Matt had a very long memory. Unfortunately, there was a shortage of rental accommodation in town—especially with the holidays just around the corner. His land had a burned-out farmhouse that wasn’t habitable. Pitching a tent and living in it during winter wasn’t feasible. Come spring, he intended to start work on a cabin, but until then he was pretty much homeless. And car-less. He’d have to do something about that, too. Building the cabin would prove to his family and the town that Will O’Malley had grown up and was going to stick around and become a contributing member of the community. “Selling my land isn’t an option.”

  Matt shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He started up the car. “Take care, Will. If you need anything, you know where to find me. In the meantime, keep out of trouble, okay?”

  After waving Matt off, Will headed down the street, his mind filled with plans: saving the buildings, getting Matt elected sheriff, designing a log cabin, locating happy homes for old Miss P.’s dogs, finding a job that didn’t involve going anywhere near the mountain—or horses, buying a car, completing his community service without burning down the old folks’ home, talking Luke into holding the fundraiser at the ranch, and most importantly, getting the judge to have dinner with him.