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

eyes never leaving mine. “You know I called off my men from taking you down—not because I forgave you for moving my niece’s body—but because Carlotta Junior is my kid.” His shoulders bounce, and suddenly it feels like a warning. He glances over my shoulder briefly. “Last Sunday, Lottie’s hairbrush somehow fell into my possession. I set it on the table near the back exit in the event she wants it back. She might be looking for it. I bet you’ll be a hero when you return it to her.”

I study his eyes, trying to see what they might be telling me. God knows I have no idea where that hairbrush journey was supposed to take us. And then it hits me.

“That’s right, Judge Baxter.” A thunderous laugh brews in his chest. “I had it tested. Turns out, Lottie ain’t my kid. She belongs to the blowhard running this town.” He ticks his head to the side. “I’m still not sure how I feel about that. But I do know how I feel about liars. Now, I get why she did it. She manipulated the results so I’d call my men off, keep you in one piece, keep your heart beating.” He pats me on the arm. “All bets are off, my man. It was cowardly of you to go along with that. And I like cowards far less than I do liars.”

“Cowardly?” My adrenaline shows up and it says fight. “I’m no coward. And I certainly didn’t go along with anything. When Lemon puts her mind to something, it happens. There’s nothing you or I can do to stop it.”

His cheek flickers. “She’s an awful lot like me. It would have been easy to believe we were blood.” He tosses a hand in the air. “But I’ve got my honor to uphold. You messed with my dead, and there wasn’t a shred of justice done by the legal system because of it. That means it’s up to me to vindicate my family.” He steps in a notch too close and sheds his eerie grin. “Maybe don’t tell the missus. I find it only stresses women out when they discover their husbands are about to meet their maker. But I have a few ideas rolling around in my head regarding what I’d like to happen next. I’ll keep you posted.” He walks straight out the back exit, and I see that hairbrush lying unattended on a table nearby.

Looks as if the other shoe just dropped.

Lottie

It’s official.

Charlie Sawyer has been welcomed by just about every family member she has in Honey Hollow, and that includes the Sawyers, the Nashes, and the Lemons—of which I’m including my sister Lainey Donovan in this number—and oddly enough, she’s been welcomed by Jimmy Canelli, too.

Another thing that’s official is that Lyla Nell has no intention of letting Everett and me have a little fun while she’s sharing our sleeping quarters. Last night was another bust. Just when things got heated, Lyla Nell got good and angry. Everett said that whatever devious plan Noah has devised to keep us from having a good time was working. And believe me, I’m starting to wonder if Noah is somehow at the helm of this dry spell, too. Lyla Nell’s timing is eerily impeccable.

It’s late afternoon and Everett and I just took a walk along the trails surrounding Honey Lake with Lyla Nell tucked sound in her stroller. She slept through half of it, but once Noah showed up with Toby, she perked back up and tried her hardest to see everything—especially Toby. She has a real heart for Pancake and Waffles, too.

But right now we’re back at the bakery. Noah has the baby in the carrier strapped to his chest and she’s doing her best to snatch the cookie out of his hand.

“Don’t worry, Lyla Nell.” Everett shoots Noah a look. “I won’t tease you with cookies. As soon as you’re ready, I’ll be forking over the real deal.”

“Ha!” Carlotta laughs as she jabs Evie with her elbow. “Hear that, kid? He thinks the only thing he’ll be forking over will be cookies. Try a cool mil by the time she’s twenty, Pops.”

Evie nearly chokes on the chocolate cream whoopie pie in her hand. “Think again, Cray Cray. Dad hasn’t even come close to giving me a cool mil. But you’re going to, right?” She directs that last question his way.

Cray Cray is sort of Carlotta’s part-time nickname that Evie has given her. She only pulls it out when Carlotta seems to have truly taken leave of her senses, which is more than not as of late.

“No to the cool mil.” Everett holds up his fork to Evie before diving back into the double chocolate fudge cake before him. “But I’m willing to foot the bill for your college education.”

“Ooh,” I trill to Evie. “If I were you, I’d go for my doctorate and take that free ride all the way to PhD-ville.”

Evie rolls her eyes. “That’s great, Dad. I appreciate it and I’m taking you up on the offer. But school is hard work. I need to relax and have a little fun, too. All work and no play makes Evie a dull girl. See?” She holds out her phone our way. “I just posted it on my Insta Pictures account.”

“I believe you,” I tell her. “But don’t worry. Summer is coming. You’ll be out of school at the end of May and then you’ll have three blissful months to lounge out at the lake with your friends. That sounds like heaven to me.”

She shrugs. “Dash and I have a lot to accomplish this summer. I’m looking into diversifying my social media narrative, and Dash will be promoting her new album by then. She’s putting out her first soon-to-be hit single. I told her I’d help her out by uploading her new song to my Insta Pic account.”

A couple of months ago Evie garnered several million followers for her Insta Pictures account after a prominent