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

She’s got her strapped to her chest while snug in a carrier and Lyla Nell couldn’t be happier. “You need to send six boxes of these to the B&B pronto. Cormack and I have instated a daily brunch and all-hour dessert bar. The guests are simply loving it.”

Everett and I exchange a glance at the mention of her inadvertent business partner.

I just love having Everett around twenty-four seven. I’m going to miss him something fierce when he gets back to his bench in a few weeks. He’s let the dark stubble on his cheeks grow out a little more than usual and it makes his eyes glow like a pure summer sky. In fact, I think the women might be streaming in just because their Greek god radar is on. He’s donned a T-shirt and jeans, a maddening combo on him, and also a rare one. Once he gets back to work, it’s all suits all the time. That is, until he lands in bed with me. Then it’s all birthday suits all the time.

“How are things going with Cormack, anyway?” he asks my mother.

Mom wrinkles her nose. “Oh, you know, as well as can be. We seem to have a difference of opinion on just about everything, but after I let her have her way, she’s pretty nice about it.”

A hard groan comes from me. “That is not okay, Mom.” Once my mother lost the B&B to the two socialite ditzes, they spray-painted everything they could get their hands on hot pink and instated a nightly disco. Gone is the lovable cozy corner my mother worked so hard to cultivate, and in its place is a dance-off at Honey Hollow’s up-and-coming bordello.

“I’ve had it,” I tell her. “Come heck or high water, this is one curse I’m reversing. I don’t know how or when, but Cormack’s reign of terror is coming to an end.”

Everett sighs. “Now that Cressida isn’t invested in it, maybe Cormack will be a little more reasonable.”

“Where is Cressida, anyway?” I ask just above a whisper. I’d hate to accidentally conjure her up by way of my vocal cords.

Everett pulls his coffee close. “It’s yachting season. She sent me a text the day of the murder, letting me know Evie could have at her couture closet. In all the chaos I forgot to mention it to her.”

“Don’t worry.” I make a face. “I would have rather gone shopping with her. But she’s got it all taken care of with her thrift-store treasure. Speaking of Evie, I think we should go and have a word with her English teacher.” I make crazy eyes at Everett because I don’t even want to hint to my mother that I’ll be investigating the case.

“Oh, you kids.” Mom chortles. “I know what this little parent-teacher conference is really about.” She says parent-teacher conference in air quotes. “Go on and run off. Make another brother or sister for Evie and Lyla Nell. The more the merrier, I say.” She winks. “I was young once, too, you know. When your father and I used to need a moment alone, we’d tell you girls we were headed out back to feed the magical chickens.”

“Wait a minute. You mean to tell me we didn’t have any magical chickens? But you always came in with eggs afterwards.” Come to think of it, my parents did look a little roughed up from the effort. That was half the reason my sisters and I never wanted to feed the magical chickens ourselves. We figured they were a rowdy bunch.

She laughs. “Why do you think we left through the door in the kitchen? I just snapped up a few eggs from the fridge afterwards and threw them into a basket to show you girls.”

Everett looks my way. “It’s not too late to add a door to the kitchen.”

“I’d text Bear right away if I were you,” I tell him and he whips out his phone just as a couple of familiar faces stride into the bakery.

“Mayor Nash, Carlotta.” I offer up a smile their way. “What can I get you?”

“A shovel and every sweet treat you got in the place. Harry tried to get me to eat those lawn clippings he grazes on for lunch. I’m half-starved, and you know that’s when I’m at my most dangerous,” Carlotta says, snatching up a whoopie pie from my mother’s plate. She does have six sitting there. It’s probably best for her blood sugar that she share the love. “Harry and I were just discussing that reunion shindig.”

“The B&B is ready when you are.” Mom doesn’t hesitate with the offer. “The guest of honor is already staying with me. It’ll be perfect.”

Mayor Nash leans in. “Hope you don’t mind, but we’d like to have it this evening. Just an informal dinner. We’ll pick up some pizza. The kids are all game if you are.”

“It’s perfect,” Mom says. “You can have run of the conservatory for however long you need it. Charlie is a sweet girl. I just hope she feels right at home in Honey Hollow.”

Sweet girl?

I shake my head at Everett. We both know all about how she made herself at home in Noah’s bed last night. Charlie Sawyer is anything but sweet.

“We’ll be there, for sure,” I say, taking off my apron. “But, for now, we’ve got a teacher to meet up with.” I can’t help but giggle as I gather my purse, put together a box of my whoopie pies, and give Lyla Nell a quick kiss. “She has a bottle in the fridge,” I tell my mother. “I just pumped this morning, so it’s fresh. And if she gets fussy, try to face her outward in the carrier. She likes to see what’s going on in the world. Oh, and if you sing ‘Slippery Fish’ and do a little dance, she’ll laugh like crazy. Oh, and if she—”

“Go, Lottie.” Mom shakes her head at me. “Everett, please take your wife to feed the magical chickens.” Her shoulders wiggle