Baby Bundt Cake Confusion (Murder in the Mix Book 31) by Unknown (reading eggs books .txt) 📗

“I’ll get on the horn with Foxy,” Carlotta offers as she pulls out her phone.

“It might just be his horny Foxy ways that are responsible for this.”

Keelie and Lainey help position me by the front window, and thankfully the handful of customers in here don’t seem to notice the fact I’m prancing around like a knocked up fairy. Eventually, Everett makes his way over.

“Lemon.” His lips dare to curl at the tips as he takes me in. “You look like a vision.”

“A beastly supernatural vision,” I say as he takes me in his arms and plants a kiss on me. Keelie takes a few shots of the two of us staring down at my belly. With Everett behind me and the two of us holding our hands into hearts over my stomach, and a few of Everett on one knee offering a sweet kiss to the tip of my girth. Soon enough, Noah shows up and gets in on the action, and Keelie has him recreate the exact same shots, then finally the three of us together, like one big oddball family. At this point, every customer in here is gawking at us, unsure of what to make of the madness—the tourists, that is. The townspeople of Honey Hollow have long since been apprised of my awkward wayward ways.

Suze stomps over with her boy band bangs covering one eye and that sourpuss on her face locked and ready to go.

“When does this mockery officially come to an end?” she demands.

My muscles stiffen at her rude remark, and I think Keelie just growled.

“Mother,” Noah barks. “I think this is a good time for us to have a private conversation. Do you care to join us, Lottie?”

“No, I think I’d rather get dressed.” Or have a dental drilling.

“I can’t say I blame you.” Noah walks his mother off to the side and Everett helps me waddle back to the office.

He closes the door and entombs us inside, slipping off my dress faster than I can blink.

“Smooth, Judge Baxter,” I tease. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were a pro at this.”

“I’d like to think I’m a pro at a couple of things.”

“Prove it.”

And he does.

Noah

“She wouldn’t admit a thing,” I say to Lottie as we step into what was formerly her mother’s humble B&B.

The floors are covered with pink paisley carpeting, and on the walls of the entry hang two larger-than-life oil paintings—one of Cormack and one of Cressida. The paintings are unnerving with far too much cleavage and a lustful hungry look in their eyes. It certainly leaves a first impression, just not one you’d want at a bed and breakfast. Rock music expels from the speakers and the whole place reeks of sickly sweet.

I let Lottie know that I was headed out this way to have a chat with my father, and since Everett had to run an errand, she jumped at the chance to come along with me.

“That’s because she’s stubborn.” Lottie winces. “No offense. I know she’s your mother, but she’s also been keeping a very serious secret from you and your brother for a very long time. Don’t hold it against her. It’s not uncommon for the transmundane to keep their supernatural abilities to themselves. But I’m pretty sure she’s confided in Serena Digby. If this baby is biologically yours, Noah, I have no idea what we’re going to be up against.”

I blow out a breath. “I guess we’re about to find out, Lot.”

“Noah? Lottie?” a friendly female voice calls out and we turn to find Miranda Lemon in a hot pink maid’s uniform bent over a vacuum with a feather duster in one hand, and my father in a pair of overalls with a giant tag that reads handyman. They’re standing at the foot of the back office and we head that way. “Welcome to the Rendezvous Luxury Resort and Razzle Dazzle Day Spa!” Miranda sighs before her expression sours. “Sorry, I have to say that. It’s company policy.”

Both Lottie and I groan in unison, and for a second I relive a few memories of the two of us when we did just that under much more pleasant circumstances.

“Mother, what are you wearing?” Lottie takes her deeper into the office lined with bookshelves and filing cabinets. A desk sits in the corner with an old-fashioned typewriter with a fresh sheet of paper already cued up and ready to go.

Miranda shakes her shoulders at her daughter. “Cormack and Cressida upgraded my uniform. What do you think?”

“Honestly?” Lottie sighs. “I hate it. This isn’t a stuffy old hotel. This is a homey B&B. You should be wearing a cozy sweater and passing out hot cocoa to all the guests, suggesting books from the lending library, not running the vacuum in the middle of the afternoon.”

Miranda scowls. “I’d love to pass out cocoa and give book recommendations, but the B&B is hosting that class reunion this Friday.”

“Speaking of books.” Dad nods to Miranda. “Someone is late turning in their manuscript for their new spring release. I hate to say it, but your career is hanging in the balance.”

“Join the club, Miranda,” I say under my breath.

“Don’t you worry.” She wags her feather duster his way. “But I’ll have to wait until after the baby gets here. Speaking of which, Saturday is your birthday, Lottie. You’re not holding that little angel in just so you can share a birthday, are you?”

“Oh yes, Mother”—Lottie shoots me a look—“I was in full labor just last week, and I put a stop to it just so I can give myself the best birthday present ever.”

Miranda’s mouth opens. “I didn’t know they could do that. Well, it’s going to be spectacular nevertheless.”

“I can hardly wait,” I say. “Dad, can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Sure.” He struts over and I walk us back a few feet. “How do you like the uniform?” He flicks his nametag with his finger. “Now we’re both men of the badge.”

“Yes. And we’re