Page 21 of Muddy Messy Love

His eyes flash to mine, darker somehow, and it does funny things to my insides. “Because you need to appear as innocent as possible.”

“What’s wrong with beach waves?” Emma Stone pulls them off with the precise elegance and maturity I thought perfect for today. And she always looks smoking hot, which never hurts.

The case clicks shut, and he arches a brow. “Apart from us not being at the beach, you mean?”

Shrinking in my seat, I push away the image of Cole in Speedos and gulp. I suppose he has a point.

He lifts his briefcase from the table and turns for the door, glancing back over his shoulder. “You should be fine to wait here.”

“Okay, thanks,” I say while twisting the rubber band in my fingers and cursing my stupidity. Beach hair for court. What was I thinking?

He rubs the back of his neck as though he wants to say more, but instead offers me a tight smile. “See you soon.”

The room feels bigger when he leaves, and I deflate against the backrest, skimming a palm down the length of my hair. Begrudgingly, I dig my phone out from the depths of my bag, wincing at the shattered screen. It’s a pocket reminder of humiliation to carry with me always, and one I can’t afford to fix. Cole’s ripped physique pops up the moment I swipe, and I squeeze my eyes shut, mashing my finger against the go-the-fuck-away button. With the front camera active, I balance it against my purse, tie my hair back into a low ponytail, and then sigh. Cole’s right. I look five years younger—as innocent as a tween. Perhaps he should have given me two rubber bands. Pigtails would elevate my virtue to pre-school level, and the magistrate might only send me to the naughty corner then.

I toss my phone back inside my bag. At least I managed intelligible English. And I didn’t fall over, snort-cry, or dissolve into panic. Beth would be proud, but I’m still going to kill her. Looks like that don’t go unmentioned. No. They evoke giggles, girly whispers, flushed cheeks, and tingly nether regions. In different circumstances, of course. Mine are far too dire. And I have Slade. Wherever the fuck he is.

The police prosecutor turns to look at me, and fresh nerves crawl through my chest. He is a small man—wide, thin-lipped mouth, eyes pink and beady like a carnivorous lizard—and seated right side of a table spanning half the courtroom. A dainty microphone swans towards his mouth, ready to pluck words, and he blinks at me once, emotionless, before looking away.

Clenching the cold metal frame of my chair, I resume staring at Cole’s broad back and the razor-cut line of his hair. He sitsat the same table, left of the central lectern, suitcase standing at attention next to his leather shoes.

The scent of jail lingers as if oozing from the walls, and my stomach rolls over that spark of hope. Instinctively, my eyes drift to the hulky sheriff guarding the double doors. He’s built for strength rather than speed, but his vastness blocks the exit, ensuring no room to run.

A knock sounds at the front of the room, and the clerk lifts from her chair. “All rise.”

My hands wring as I stand, and the magistrate enters a hidden door behind the oak bench, a black robe wafting in her wake. She bows before taking her seat, and we return the courtesy from three feet below.

“Please be seated. Matter of Avery Lee Masters.” The clerk passes a folder to the magistrate before resuming her seat, and my name circles the room with uncomfortable clarity. Thankfully, the rows of chairs behind me stand empty. Any member of the public could have chosen to witness this debacle, but none have. Mia could have been here, but I guess her police report was enough.

“Mr. Benedict, I looked twice when I saw your name on this case.” The magistrate casts her gaze over the brim of her wire spectacles, golden curls brushing the curve of her chin.

Cole stands. “Good morning, Your Honour. Always a pleasure.” The smile shines in his voice, and my belly flutters. She knows him. That has to be good, right?

“My condolences regarding your uncle. Gerard was an exemplary lawyer.”

“Thank you, Your Honour,” Cole says, but his shoulders stiffen.

“How are you finding the helm?”

My frown deepens.The helm?

“Challenging, Your Honour.” His response comes raw and dipped in pain, and I find myself irritated with the magistrate’s insensitivity. The loss must be fresh. That much is clear. Not even the website has been updated.

She purses her feathered lips. “Challenge is where we thrive, Mr. Benedict. I’m sure you’ll do fine.”

“Thank you, Your Honour.” Cole glances at his papers, taking a moment before clearing his throat, and my heart aches for him. “I’m representing Avery Lee Masters today, Your Honour, who sits behind me. Avery lives with her elder sister, Bethany Masters, a fellow lawyer who is presenting a case before the County Court today and, regretfully, cannot be here.”

The magistrate nods and looks to the police prosecutor, who then rises too. “Good morning, Your Honour. Senior Constable Greening prosecuting today.” His voice comes high and gargled like a bubble is trapped in his throat. Or maybe it’s a fly—the snack of choice for lizards.

“Good morning, everyone.” The magistrate looks at her notes before settling her attention on Cole. “What’s happening today, Mr. Benedict?”

“The matter is resolved, Your Honour. My client has entered into a plea agreement with the prosecution. As such, the original charge of aggravated burglary has been downgraded to trespass. We are satisfied with this outcome and request the new charge be substituted for the old. We rely on the facts set out in the apprehension report, bar the allegation of intent.”

“Is that accepted by the prosecution?” she asks.

Senior Constable Greening nods. “Yes, Your Honour. We believe the new charge more accurately reflects the alleged conduct of the accused. We have amended the information in this matter and do not object to the charge being substituted.”

“Very well.” The magistrate’s eyes find mine, tugging me upright in my chair. The urge to stand is strong, but I was toldto do so only when asked. “Avery Lee Masters, you are being charged with one count of trespass. How do you plead?”

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