“I know, right? Asshole.” Sarah went straight for her little wine fridge under the granite kitchen bar and grabbed a bottle of pinot she’d been saving from her trip to Napa last year. Wine country wasn’t far—about an hour north—but she didn’t get up there often. Or do anything fun very often, for that matter. Work. Work. Work. But it had been that way for as long as she could remember. Set your goals. Work hard. Follow the rules. That was her motto, which made her little indiscretion all the more confusing. Why had she done it?
“I can’t believe I slept with him.” Sarah sighed.
“Aside from the fact that I’m completely floored you didn’t tell me until now, I have to wonder why he would deny it.”
Sarah popped the cork, grabbed a large wineglass, and poured. “There are two options: One, he was drunk as hell and forgot. Or two, he was drunk as hell, and when he saw me, he really wished he hadn’t fucked me.”
“Sarah! Stop it. You’re totally gorgeous, and you know it.”
“I don’t think I’m ugly, Tay. But I can’t ignore the fact that in the dating world, my profession is the equivalent of having a rare facial deformity like a penis growing out of my forehead.”
Taylor chuckled. “Actually, I think a lot of guys might be into that. You do live in the city—lots of kink fans.”
Sarah groaned and rubbed her forehead, grateful for the lack of phallic-shaped bumps. “Well, the story only gets worse—but you can’t tell anyone. Not even Bennett.” Especially not Bennett. If he heard that Judge Wright was blackmailing her with a video, Bennett would insist on intervening because he was a big stubborn asshole with a huge heart, which meant he did what he wanted, when he wanted, including fucking with other assholes who lacked his moral fiber.
God, he was so wonderful. It was such a shame that Sarah had had to remove him from her mental wank-bank after Tay started dating the man. On the bright side, he’d been replaced by Uhtred from The Last Kingdom.
Sigh. Danish Vikings…
Taylor groaned. “I don’t know if I can promise that, Sarah. Bennett and I have a very strict no-secrets rule.”
Damn her. She and Taylor had been friends since they were little. Didn’t that entitle Sarah to a pass when it came to Tay’s marital rules?
“Fine. I didn’t want to tell you anyway.”
“Sarah…” Tay warned with her tone. “It’s not like Bennett would do anything.”
“Really? Even if Judge Wright had a video of me and Colton leaving the bathroom and was blackmailing me?”
“Oh crap. Sarah, why didn’t you—” Taylor’s voice cut out. “Christ. Hold on.”
“Wait. Don’t you dare put me on—”
Taylor put her on hold.
“Thanks!” Sarah groused to no one and decided to take her glass of wine outside to the fire escape—aka urban balcony. The evening view of the picturesque Golden Gate Bridge always helped when she needed to chill out. It made her remember that there was a big, big world out there and today’s problems wouldn’t last forever. But perhaps her contributions to the world might if she worked hard enough. It was important to her to leave this world a better place than she found it.
After a few long moments, Taylor returned. “Sarah?”
Doing her best to keep her wine from tipping, Sarah stepped through the window and took a seat on her fold-out wooden chair. “Thanks a lot, Tay—”
“Sarah, are you sitting down?”
“Uhhh…” The panic in Taylor’s voice triggered Sarah’s blood pressure to drop. “Yes?”
“Good. Because that was Ms. Luci. She said she’d been trying to reach you at your office.”
Why would Ms. Luci want to speak to her?
Taylor continued, “Colton Young is sitting in her living room, claiming you sent him there. To work.”
“What!” Sarah popped up from her chair, nearly dumping her wine. “I didn’t send him to Luci’s! He’s supposed to report to…to…oh fuck.” Sarah set her glass down on the chair, bolted through the window, and beelined for her tiny bedroom decorated in overworked-woman style—law books stacked beside the bed, her laptop on her antique vanity, and a hundred trees’ worth of paperwork in towering piles on the floor. She jerked open the closet door and reached for her hamper, throwing its contents on the floor with one hand. Her black slacks from Monday weren’t there.
Where are you? Where the hell are you? She pivoted on her heel and spotted them flung over the floral, overstuffed armchair in the corner. She set the phone down on the armchair and began digging into the pockets, where she instantly felt a folded piece of paper.
“Sarah! Where the fuck did you go?” Taylor’s barely audible voice came from Sarah’s cell.
Too freaked out to reply, Sarah opened the paper and found what she’d dreaded.
“Fucking shit.” The paper had the name of a homeless shelter in LA, where Colton resided. That meant she’d handed Colt’s attorney the envelope and letter from Ms. Luci. There’d been an address on it, but any idiot would’ve known that it was a mistake. Why hadn’t he said anything? With all of the paperwork required, it couldn’t go unnoticed. How had this happened? Either way…
“Wright is going to kill me.”
“Sarah! Sarah!” screamed Taylor’s tiny voice.
Sarah dropped the paper, grabbed the phone, and sank down on the chair, placing the phone back to her ear. “I sent him to Ms. Luci for his community service.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Sarah was the kind of person who rarely made mistakes, but it seemed that turning thirty-four had opened the door to a few extras. One being her absentminded slipup. She’d handed Colton’s lawyer an envelope containing Ms. Luci’s address, but what she didn’t understand was why the attorney had said nothing.
What a moron.
Of course, she was the bigger idiot, which was exactly why Ms. Luci had no issues extorting Sarah once they got on the phone to discuss the mix-up.
“Very entertaining, Sarah,” Ms. Luci said with her Mexican accent. “But diss is not my problem.”
“Please. You’re a community farm. You grow food for the homeless shelters in your county and raise money for the schools—please, I’m begging you, Ms. Luci. He has to pay his debt to society, and I can’t think of a better place.”
“We run a business, Sarah. There’s no room for entitled celebrities nor is there any patience on my part for the people who don’t pull their weight.”
Sarah sighed. “Please, Ms. Luci. I’m begging you.” This was the only play she had. They had exactly thirty days, starting today. And it wasn’t an option to have Colton drive home to LA and check in at the shelter a day late. Also, if she told Wright she’d goofed, he’d take a dump on her head. However, if she simply told Wright that she’d overridden his selection of venue, she could provide all sorts of explanations: the Happy Pants Ranch gave Colton a better chance of completing his service. It was also only one hour away versus the seven hours to the shelter in LA, so Sarah could more effectively ensure he completed his thirty days. There were so many ways to sell her decision to send Colton to another spot. What she could not sell, however, was “Oh, I fucked up because there was a hot man in my courtroom distracting me.”
“I don’t have time to babysit a middle-aged delinquent, but I’ll agree on one condition,” Luci said.
Sarah jumped. “Anything. Anything at all.”
“I’m happy you said that, because you, my dear child, will be responsible for him while he’s here at the ranch. You will keep an eye on him.”
“Well, I have to work, but I can take a few days—”
“This is no concern of mine, mija. I will set up the guest room and ensure he’s fed, but he needs to complete his daily duties—working the field, cleaning up after the animals, assisting with my private garden. I don’t care about how; I simply want it done or he’s out. Comprende?”
Cleaning up after animals? I’m screwed. Colton did not look like the type of guy to break his back doing farmwork, s
o she’d definitely need to go to the ranch and explain to him the importance of complying. There wasn’t time to move Colton’s service.
“Yes, I understand,” said Sarah. “I’ll be there first thing in the morning to talk to Colton and give you the paperwork.”
“Ah, but I haven’t finished yet. There’s one more thing—and it’s nonnegotiable. You must volunteer at my annual wedding fiesta—it is right around the corner—and you must help me with my next project, too.”
“Those are two more things, not one. And by project, do you mean one of your matchmaking things?” Please say no.
“Sí, that is exactly what I mean. Take it or leave it,” Luci said.
Sarah had only met Luci twice—once at the grand wedding fiesta last year and the second time at Taylor’s wedding—but Sarah knew the type well. Luci was one of those people who came across to some as a feisty old woman. But no. Sarah had seen rich, powerful people at Luci’s party. That woman had connections everywhere, including royalty, politicians, and well-known CEOs. She was the sort of person who schemed and leveraged her contacts to get things done.
Thank God Luci is after love. Sarah couldn’t imagine what the world would look like if Luci worked for the mob or someone down and dirty like Wright.
“Fine. Taken.”
“Excelente, mija. See you bright and early.”
Sarah quickly took down all of Luci’s contact info—there would be forms for her to sign—and gave Luci all of her contact info just in case. This would be one long month. She hung up, and Sarah’s mind went to work. How the ever-living-hell would she convince Colton to work his ass off in the heat and mud, shoveling animal shit? He had people do everything for him. He had all the money in the world on top of worldwide fame.
I’ll have to come up with something. Both of their careers were on the line.
The next morning, after having called work to cancel her hearings for the day, Sarah drove in her car, too tired to think straight. She’d only slept about an hour thus the reason she’d put on sweats for the short trip. Not going to get all dressed up for that guy. No way. The only thing that mattered was coming up with a brilliant plan to get Colt to play nice. Farmhand nice.
Nothing. She came up with nothing.
Maybe I can renegotiate with Luci for nonphysical work, Sarah thought as her red Audi bounced down the dirt road stretching between two green fields, just in time for her to see a sweaty, shirtless, ripped-as-hell Colton storming from Luci’s two-story farmhouse at the end of the road.
Oh shit. Sarah pulled up behind a red Ferrari parked to the side and popped out of her car.
“Go fuck yourself!” Colton yelled.
A man, almost his same size and nearly as muscular, came running from the house. He went right for Colton and tackled him to the dirt. Both men fell, and fists began flying.
Sarah whipped off her sunglasses. “What the hell?”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Sarah rushed toward the two grown men rolling in the dirt and throwing punches. She couldn’t fucking believe that Colton hadn’t lasted one day without causing problems. No, wait. Scratch that. I can totally believe it!
“Mr. Young! What are you doing? Stop fighting!” Sarah held out her arms, looking for a good spot to grab hold and pull them apart, but they tangled together like two rabid dogs.
Colton rolled over the man, straddled him, and pinned him by the neck.
Sarah froze with her arms still stretched out. “No! Oh shit! No, no, no! Don’t hit—”
Colton’s fist pulled back and came down with a loud crack on the other man’s face. “Think you can fuck with me? Huh?” He cocked back his arm and landed another punch.
“Colton! You fucking idiot! Stop.” This was not good. Not good at all. Because Sarah now realized that the tanned muscular man getting his ass beaten by a very well-built and tough-as-nails rock star was Juan. Juan ran Ms. Luci’s ranch along with Juan’s father, Sebastian—an elderly man with a lazy eye and a pet pig named Muffin Top that thought it was a dog. Sarah knew this because she’d met Juan and Sebastian (and the pig-dog) at their gran fiesta last year.
Luci suddenly appeared at Sarah’s side, wielding a giant pitchfork. “Señor Young! Remove yourself from him immediately or I will run you through like a cob of corn.”
Colton looked up and froze, his bare chest heaving, his hazel eyes inflamed with rage, and a trickle of blood running from his nose. “He fucking started it.”
“Really? Really? ‘He started it’? How old are you? Two?” Sarah pulled back her angry hands so she wouldn’t accidentally wrap them around his neck.
“He went through my stuff—I caught him,” Colton replied.
“Get off him,” Luci reeled.
Colton let go, and Juan flipped over, getting onto all fours.
“I only wanted a look,” Juan coughed out his words.
“Then why did I find my notebook in your back pocket?” Colton threw back.
“Is this true, mijo?” Luci raised one silvery brow. “Did you steal from our guest?”
Juan staggered to his feet. “I was going to give it back,” he whined.
“Estúpido!” Luci scowled and looked at Colton. “You may proceed, Señor Young. Knock out a few teeth.”
Colton gave her a curious look.
Luci shrugged. “Stealing is not something we allow here at the Happy Pants Ranch.” She walked away and disappeared into the enormous two-story farmhouse with green shutters and a wraparound porch.
Colton snarled at Juan, and Juan glared back, to which Colton responded by cocking his fist.
“Wait!” Sarah inserted herself between the two raging bulls. “That’s enough. Juan, get your ass inside. Colton, you come with me!” Both men simply stood there glaring, ready to go at it again. “May I remind you both that I am a superior court judge and have the power to make your lives very uncomfortable.”
Both men gave her a skeptical look.
“Now!” she roared.
Juan flinched and headed back toward the house, marching like a flustered five-year-old. Colton stood there seething until Juan was out of sight.
“Are you out of your musician-warped mind?” Sarah said, sizzling with anger and giving Colton a little poke on his shoulder. “You almost blew it!”
“He had it coming.”
“I’m sure he did, but Luci could’ve thrown you out. And then where would you be? I’ll tell you where! In jail for ninety days! Maybe more. Getting ass-raped by a large bald, tattooed man named Ass Rape Joe. That’s where! All because Juan touched your little lyric notebook. Boohoo.”
Speaking of notebook, Colton slid the small spiral pad from his front jeans pocket and began flipping through the pages.
“Ohmygod. Really?” She swiped for the thing, determined to burn it or make him choke on it or something.
Colton spun around, blocking her, while his eyes skimmed a page toward the middle of the booklet.
He shoved it back into his pocket. “Why are you here, Judge Alma?”
What in the…? She simply didn’t know how to respond to his oddball behavior. Add to that the fact he had his shirt off, his abs and pecs glistening with sweat and a bit of dirt. A light dusting of dark hair trailed down his chest and abdomen, disappearing into the low-slung waistband of his jeans.
I am finding it very difficult to concentrate. Sarah pulled her lips into her mouth and bit down, knowing that any words to come from her mouth at that moment would be inappropriate or a complete garble, such as boomchackalackahotmanhotman.
“Stop staring. You’re not my type,” he said with a stern voice.
Her eyes darted away from his happy trail and met his irritated gaze. “What? But I was just—”
“I’m well aware of what you were just doing, and I have work to do.” He gave her the cold shoulder and headed for the barn.
Wow. What a total prick.
“Is there a particular reason you’re such a dick to me, Mr. Young?”
> He ignored her and disappeared inside.
“Hey! I’m talking to you.” She marched after him, immediately getting hit with the foul stench of manure. Dear God. She pinched her nose and came up behind Colton, who grabbed a shovel in preparation to work on a heaping pile of shit. Likely horse shit, judging from the three huge creatures in the stalls next to him. “Hey! Don’t walk away from me when I’m speaking to you.” She poked him in the back. A firm, firm back, complete with muscles and more muscles and…did she say muscles?
Shovel in one hand, he slowly turned, looking like he was about to throttle her. “What. Is. It. That you want, Judge Alma?” he growled.
Abs. I want to touch your abs. Was that a ten-pack?
Stop, Sarah!
She lifted her chin to remind herself that she had her pride and that meant she didn’t drool over bad boys with bad attitudes. “For starters, some respect would be nice. I’ve been nothing but professional with you—okay, except for the other night, which was a moment of weakness. But other than that, I’ve been extremely patient despite how you snubbed me—which I still can’t believe you did.”
“Is that what this is about? You wanted me to look at you or ask you to dance or—oh, I know. I bet you wanted me to kiss you at that club, but I ignored you. That’s why you’re getting your staff to bring me down to the garage. That’s why you’re showing up here to come check on me.”
Christ. He really wasn’t making any sense. He doesn’t remember you. Remember?
“I’m here,” she said, “because I need to speak to you about your community service. I made a—”
“I’m a big boy, Your Honor. And while I appreciate the personal attention, I don’t need a babysitter.” He turned and began shoveling.
Wait, so why isn’t he throwing a man-tantrum about doing farmwork or physical labor? Because that was exactly what she’d expect from a pompous rock star worth tens of millions.