Wicked Whoopie Pies by Addison Moore (english novels to improve english TXT) 📕

no stopping you. I just ask one thing—humor me. Steer clear of danger. I don’t want you diving in headfirst. Let Noah take this one.”

I cluck my tongue up at him. “When have I ever dove headfirst into danger?”

His brows meet in the middle. “Do you really want me to answer that?”

“You watch it,” I tease. “I was feeling very generous five minutes ago, and besides”—I give a quick glance around because what I’m about to share is for his ears only—“Dr. Barnette gave me clearance to resume all activity once again with every last part of my body. It’s been over six weeks. Plus, she thought I needed a little more time to heal, but I snuck over to her office on Friday morning and she said to give it a couple more days then go for it. And since it’s been a couple of days, I say we go for it, indeed. We could make a little game of it.” I give his tie a tug as I say it.

Dr. Barnette is my OB-GYN and Everett’s old friend—special coital friend. He was more than a playboy before we met. There’s hardly a woman I meet that he hasn’t Essexed.

His eyes widen a notch and that devilish grin begs to curl on his lips, but he’s too stubborn to let it.

“Game on, Lemon.”

I nod up at him. “Game on, indeed.”

The commotion near the stage garners my attention once again.

It’s game on for tracking down the killer, too.

Lottie

“May, oh May, let me say, how much I love you on this spring day.” Suze stretches an elastic smile my way after her uncalled-for outburst regarding the month, albeit the smile is relatively short-lived.

Noah’s mother, Suze, has short blonde hair that swoops over her forehead, think boy bands of yesteryear, a boxy body, and a perpetual scowl on her face. She’s no fan of mine, so it was a surprise when she said she wanted to work at the bakery. But work here she has for the last two months, and try as I might, we still can’t seem to hit our stride in the getting along department.

“That was beautiful.” Charlie claps as she sits at the counter alongside Carlotta. “Put your hands together for the woman.” She elbows Carlotta, and sure enough, Carlotta begins to clap like a trained seal.

It’s the very next day after that disastrous church business meeting—deadly would be a more accurate term—and I’m standing in the Cutie Pie Bakery and Cakery helping my singular sane employee, Lily Swanson, process the afternoon rush.

Actually, I’ve hired an entire sane kitchen staff now that I have Lyla Nell to tend to. I still do as much as I can at the bakery, but my primary focus is seeing that all of my sweet baby girl’s needs are met. And since I’m her only food source, I’m on call twenty-four seven. Speaking of which, I was on call every twenty minutes last night. So much for Everett and me getting our game on.

I’m practically seeing double, I’m so exhausted. The bags under my eyes have packed their bags and are threatening to leave town without me. And I bet they’d get some rest if they did, considering the fact Lyla Nell is all but connected to my body at this point.

I take a moment to soak in my cozy little shop, with its sugary scent of vanilla permeating the air and the warm scent of chocolate whoopie pies baking in the ovens behind me.

The bakery has butter yellow walls, pastel furniture, and an opening in the left wall that conjoins us to the Honey Pot Diner next door. The Honey Pot was Nell’s baby, and that makes it twice as special to me. It’s my baby now, and I take extra good care of it just knowing how much it meant to Nell.

I peer over into the dining room and see Keelie bouncing Lyla Nell in her arms. Keelie spots me and takes one of Lyla Nell’s hands and waves my way and I wave right back.

As soon as I stepped into the bakery with the baby, Keelie decided it was time for her lunch break. Keelie is the manager of the Honey Pot, so she offered to show Lyla Nell around what she deemed would be her future stomping grounds. Keelie isn’t wrong, but I’d like to think Lyla Nell will be stomping in the direction of the Cutie Pie instead. Ever since I laid eyes on my baby girl, I’ve been fantasizing that one day the two of us would work side-by-side right here at the bakery.

Keelie snaps a picture of herself and Lyla Nell underneath that life-size resin oak tree Nell had installed right in the heart of the Honey Pot Diner. The branches of that oak tree spread across the ceiling of both the Honey Pot and my bakery, and each branch is lovingly wrapped in twinkle lights. It’s magic. But then again, Nell was magic. She still is.

“Lottie?” Charlie snips my name out. Come to think of it, that’s the only way she’s said my name since she’s been here. I get that she’s angry about Carlotta not telling anyone that she existed, but I’m not sure why she’s taking it out on me. “Aren’t you going to tell Suze what a great job she did with her spontaneous poem?”

Carlotta clucks her tongue while scooping up a pistachio whoopie pie off the platter of desserts I’ve set between them.

“Lot Lot isn’t about building people up, Cha Cha. She’s about killing ’em dead and then tracking down someone plausible to pin the blame on.”

Cha Cha? I choose to ignore the rest of Carlotta’s irrational rantings.

Carlotta has a long history of slicing and dicing people’s names to bits and pieces, so in a way Cha Cha makes perfect sense.

I force a smile as I look to Suze. “That was—enlightening. I’m glad you find so much joy in the warmth of this month.”

Suze jerks her head my