Page 89 of Not Your Average Vixen
Soren’s jaw dropped. That was not the story he’d been told countless times at Abbott family gatherings. He’d known the judge as an unbiased, reflective, ethical, and steady-tempered man.
Who would hate that?
“I thought you guys were madly in love?” he pressed.
“We got there eventually. But I’ll have you know that I was quite a Casanova in my day.”
Soren bit back a grin. “Is that so?”
“I know what you’re thinking, and I may not look it now. But when I was your age, I was also a bit of a scoundrel,” the judge added, that hint of a smile blooming into an ear to ear grin.
“Oh, really?” he asked, fascinated by the admission.
“That was before I was appointed to the bench. I was a hot-headed prosecutor and a real man about town…until Alice. I thought I knew it all back then. Luckily, Alice showed me that I didn’t. I didn’t know a damn thing about love. I asked her out thirty-seven times before she agreed to have dinner with me. And then when she relented, she still had a condition.”
“What was it?” he asked as a light snow began to fall.
“She told me I had to be myself on our date—not the cocky litigator or the dirty dog of a womanizer—those were her words, mind you, but she wasn’t off the mark. She said she wasn’t interested in that husk of a man. And you know, I wasn’t that interested in being him either,” the judge finished.
Soren nodded, unable to speak. He knew a thing or two about putting on a facade.
“You see, Scooter, Alice made me work, and she helped me see that the best kind of love is the kind you have to fight for, the kind that shows you who you really are. Real love makes you want to do better—be better—and not for yourself. You do it because life isn’t about taking. It’s about giving. And, good heavens, did Alice make me work.”
The judge gestured for them to start walking as Soren felt a tightness clench his heart.
What kind of man was Soren Christopher Traeger Rudolph?
Not the kind the judge would be proud of—not if he saw the empty life he lived when he was away from the Abbotts.
“Why are you telling me this, Judge?” he asked, his voice barely a rasp.
“I’ve known you a long time, Scooter, and I think you could use an Alice.”
Soren released a bark of a laugh. “I’m not really the Alice type.”
“No?” the judge replied with the ghost of a smirk.
“No, there’s no Alice out there for me,” he replied, the words tasting of regret.
The judge nodded. “Perhaps not, or maybe you haven’t met your Alice. But I hope you know, no matter what happens, my family has always treasured our time with you.”
What was this past tense “treasured” talk?
“Judge, what are you saying?” he asked as a bell rang out in the distance.
“I found a spot!” Cole cried from beyond a smattering of Aspens. “Let’s put the flag here.”
“Dad, Scooter! It’s go time!” Scott called, jogging toward them with Cole and the others close behind.
“Scooter, take the south side,” Tom said, pointing off in the distance. “I’ll go north with Uncle Russ. Everyone else, guard the flag.”
“Let the games begin!” the judge said, taking Cole’s hand and heading off with the rest of the team.
And then he was alone.
“What the fuck was that?” he whispered.
He’d had countless conversations with the judge over the years, and none of them had gone anything like that.
