Chocolate Chip Cookie Conundrum (Murder in the Mix Book 32) by Unknown (romantic love story reading txt) 📗

things more interesting than they have to be, Cluck Norris is sitting on the coffee table stealing cookies for himself, judging me with those beady little eyes of his.

“I’m doing what wrong?” I ask and suddenly regret that I took the bait.

Cluck Norris chirps, “I think the answer is everything, Lottie. Back on the farm they weren’t allowed to lounge around the house all day. There were cows to be milked, horses to be fed, and eggs to be laid. Mrs. Cottonwood had ten children, my favorite being Candace, of course. She let me run wild in her bedroom.”

I bet she did.

Hey? Maybe running wild in a bedroom is what got her killed?

“Honestly?” Evie sits on the other sofa and folds her legs underneath her while stirring the yogurt in her hand. Both Pancake and Waffles hop up on either side of her, eyeing that dairy treat in her hand. I’ve noticed they’ve been steering clear of me lately. Most likely because I smell and I have a baby bomb strapped to my chest who goes off at all hours of the day and night. “You shouldn’t have bothered to ask, Mom. At this point, I’m pretty sure the answer is everything.”

“Yuppers.” Carlotta nods as she walks into the room, cookies in hand. “And Cluck Norris agrees with you, too.”

I avert my eyes. Evie doesn’t know about the fact Carlotta and I are supersensual, but that hasn’t stopped Carlotta from introducing Evie to her “make-believe” emotional support animals.

“Are you all caught up with the Kellermans yet, Lot?” Carlotta beams a smile as if she was in on some great secret.

“Twice over,” I say. “Not that I’ve been paying attention.”

Evie scoffs. “Just the way you weren’t yesterday when you didn’t think to invite me to the studio. I can’t believe you guys got to meet the Kellermans without me. And the fact they tried to beat Carlotta with a baseball bat would have been gold for my social media accounts. A video like that could have garnered me millions of dollars.” She shakes her head at Carlotta. “It’s so cool the way people always seem to want to beat you up, Carlotta.”

“It takes talent.” Carlotta doesn’t miss a beat. “I’ve worked long and hard my whole life to get to where I am today—as evidence by this!” She plucks a piece of paper from her pocket and waves it around. “See this, Lot?” Carlotta wiggles the sheet my way. “It’s proof the Kellermans love me.”

“I don’t think love is the nexus of a restraining order, Carlotta.” And that’s exactly what that is. Everett briefed her on it, but the concept seems to elude her. It’s probably for the better.

“At least they know I’m alive,” she quips.

“Point taken,” I say. “How was school, Evie?”

“Pointless.” She shrugs. “But it’s Friday, so who cares?”

“It’s Friday?” I perk up a notch as if days of the week meant anything anymore.

“Friday!” Cluck Norris hops and expands his wings while shooting off one of his famed cock-a-doodle-don’ts. The small handful of times I happened to fall asleep, he’s let one of those airy scary screams rip. “Sorry,” he chirps. “It’s more of a biological response than anything else.”

I bite down on a smile. The fact he just used biological response in a sentence confirms to me that roosters are whip-smart birds. But as smitten as I am with him, that biological response of his has taken the sheen off just a bit. And to think I spent half my childhood begging my mother for a rooster. Thank goodness she said no. Who knew I should have been soaking in glorious sleep while I had the chance? My mother, that’s who.

“That’s right, it’s Friday, Lot.” Carlotta lands on the opposite end of the sofa with a platter of my chocolate chip cookies in hand that Keelie brought over for me this morning. I keep threatening to bake a batch myself, but I can’t seem to get one inch near the kitchen without Lyla Nell screaming at me to get back here. She prefers curling up by the fire with a nice snack, that would be me, and taking a solid nap on her favorite bed, also me.

Carlotta snorts. “Pretty soon Evie and I have to get ready to go out. We’ve still got lives, you know. We don’t have a little yippy baby weighing us down. We’re free to sleep in until noon, stay out until midnight, and wear our skinny jeans.”

Pancake yowls my way, and I won’t even begin to try to interpret that reaction.

Evie pulls the spoon from her mouth. “Speaking of skinny jeans, you might want to change out of that tent now that you’ve had the baby.”

“I can’t fit into anything else.” There’s a slight whine to my voice, but I can’t help it. If there was anything to whine about, it’s my wardrobe debacle. “Besides, all of my old clothes burned in the fire, not that I’d have any hope of fitting back into them. And my maternity dresses are comfortable.”

Carlotta makes a face. “They’re also stained, smelly, and encrusted with baby spit. It’s not a wonder Sexy and Foxy aren’t around that much anymore.”

“What are you talking about?” I shoot her a look. “Noah is working hard on the case, and Everett had a very important errand to run. He probably had to meet up with Fiona. You know his trial starts next week. And he mentioned he had to get to the bank, and then he’s picking up dinner, or was it lunch?” I shake my head. “I hope it’s a bucket of fried chicken from Hennifer’s.”

“Wow, Mom,” Evie muses. “You look like you’ve still got a runt in your belly, and you eat like it, too. You’re not knocked up again already, are you?”

Carlotta belts out a laugh. “Sexy time is a thing of the past for your mama, Evie Stevie. She’s got a baby sucking all the fun right out of her. Lyla Nell might look cute, but she’s