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

believe it? I got to see my dad!” Tears fill my eyes at the thought of it. Both Nell and my father have been dead for a good long while, but I’ve seen them both several times since they’ve crossed the veil. Although, Nell has appeared to me more than my father has.

“I guess seeing the dead does have its perks.” He lands a warm kiss to my lips and I take a moment to take in his warm cologne.

“It sure does.” But not in the way one would think. It’s not like I see dead people everywhere I go. The only ghosts I see regularly are the ones taking up residence in my mother’s old B&B, a happy family of four—if you include the ghostly cat. Other than that, the only time I see the disembodied as of late is if someone has been killed—and I’m not talking about the deceased. The dead in question is typically someone or some creature that the deceased truly loved. They generally come back to help solve the crime of a person who was near and dear to their hearts. That probably explains why so many of the dearly departed that come back to help are animals. It makes perfect sense; loving a pet is the purest love of all.

“Unbutton your shirt,” I whisper to Everett. “I want you to bond with the baby.”

“You don’t have to ask me twice.” Everett does just that and I carefully unwrap Lyla Nell and hand her over to him. Everett lays the sleeping babe over his chest and covers her back with the blanket. “Get some rest, Lemon.” He drops a kiss to the top of Lyla Nell’s head, and if I’m not mistaken, he’s just shed the softest smile. “I’ll keep an eye on her.”

But I don’t sleep. I plow my way through that bag of cookies and all the while I try my best to soak in the sight of this gorgeous man holding our daughter. And she is Everett’s daughter no matter if Noah turns out to be the father.

The door cracks open slowly and in strides Noah with a baby bag in his arms that looks to be overloaded with far too many things, and I giggle at the sight. I probably should have packed a bag for the hospital months ago, but there never seemed to be any time. And now she’s here and it feels as if everything in my life before her didn’t really exist.

“Hey, beautiful.” Noah comes over and lands a kiss to my cheek before pulling over the other recliner in the room.

The three of us catch maybe an hour of sleep. And even in that narrow window I manage to fall in and out of fevered dreams. When I wake up, Noah has the baby on his chest with his shirt unbuttoned so he can get that precious skin-on-skin contact with her, too.

I look from Everett to Noah and marvel at how wonderful they’ve been through all of this, how very civil they’ve been to one another, and I wonder if they’ll remain civil once we find out the paternity results—on live TV no less.

Why does everything always have to be so complicated?

But on the bright side, maybe this paternity nightmare will be the very last complicated thing in my life.

I’ve got Lyla Nell to think about now. I can’t land myself in hot water the way I’ve been prone to do these last few years.

No, it’s time for the chaos that my life has devolved into to come to an end.

It’s time for peace and calmness, just like the way it is now in this room with a tiny angelic being lighting up our world with all her sugar cookie glory.

But deep down, I wonder exactly how long this peaceful moment will last.

Something tells me, it’s just the calm before the storm.

Lottie

Three weeks later…

“Whose harebrained idea was this?” I grunt as I look out at the crowd of spectators getting ready to watch my life implode like a watermelon with a stick of dynamite in it. The studio is ice-cold, buzzing with far too many bodies—and at the risk of sounding like my sister, Lainey, laden with germs.

I squeeze my eyes shut tight and force myself to think about the positives, such as the heady vanilla scent of my heavenly chocolate chip cookies emanating from the refreshment table. I couldn’t come to the show empty-handed, so I stopped by my shop, the Cutie Pie Bakery and Cakery, this morning and boxed up as many of my chocolate chip cookies as I could for the host and crew.

Little Lyla Nell and I, and just about everyone we know, have gathered to witness the spectacle at hand. And now here we are on the set of Getting Candid with Candace, a live afternoon talk show that’s broadcasted to all of Vermont, filmed just south of my cozy little town of Honey Hollow.

Carlotta chuckles. “That was your harebrained idea, Lot. But I don’t expect you to remember. You’ve got little Lyla Nell sucking your brain cells right out of your boobs. You’ve made stupid mistakes before, but you’re bound to make far more stupider mistakes that will make the ghost of mistakes past seem like pure genius. And I can’t wait to see ’em all.”

Just the thought of nursing my sweet little angel leaves me cringing. Every pox Lainey and my best friend, Keelie, placed on me regarding the breasty matter has quickly come true. My boobs are cracked and bleeding. And if I wait too long between feedings, they swell to the size and density of bowling balls.

My mother felt sorry for me and brought over an entire box of everything available on the market to help with the situation. Newsflash, so far nothing has quelled this double D disaster in the least. The only thing I have to comfort myself with the fact I’m so sleep-deprived it feels as if I’m walking around