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

it’s silk if that counts for something. Noah bought me this blouse along with an entire slew of others so that I would have a wardrobe that would be easy to nurse Lyla Nell in. I know this sent him back a shiny nickel because not only did they come from a pricey name brand store, but like I said, this blouse is made of silk.

Noah and Everett are casual, too, with their jeans and T-shirts. And with the spring air permeating us with its warmth, I can’t imagine them wearing any more than that.

Inside of Smoked and Smothered, loud country music twangs from the speakers, the aroma of barbecue and the tangy scent of baked beans lights up our senses ten times more than it did outside. A row of baby blue T-shirts lines the counter behind the register, each one with a picture of an adorable pink pig and the words our butts smell better than yours.

The interior of this place is enormous with its rustic metal walls covered with large framed pictures of the South. The floors are rust-colored concrete and the tables and chairs look as if they’re made of reclaimed wood. There’s a makeshift dance floor that’s bustling with bodies, and a sea of large round tables to the right, and a large cocktail bar to the left. And tucked next to the bar is an entire row of arcade games.

Everett straightens. “I think they’ve got Meteorites.”

Noah grunts as he cranes his neck, “I think I see Ghost Invaders, too. After dinner, it’s on. You’re going down, Baxter. I’m going to sink you to the bottom of the sea, just like the old days.”

Charlie gurgles out a laugh. “You’ve just been sold out again, Lottie. This time for a video game. First comes smoked meat, then comes video games, and then comes the other women,” she nips at Noah when she says it and he inches back.

Carlotta slaps me on the arm and points to a large yellow sign to the right of the register.

“Check this out, Lot. It’s a how big do you like your wiener chart.”

Sure enough, there’s a picture of sausages of every shape and size from smallest to tallest, and each one looks twice as vulgar as the next.

“Oh, that’s just gross,” I say to no one in particular.

Charlie gives me the side-eye, and truthfully it’s a weird feeling being judged by your own face. “Come on, Lottie, where do Everett and Noah fall on this chart? Inquiring minds want to know.” She gives them a devious smile.

Both Noah and Everett step that way and observe the meaty selections.

“So what’s what?” Charlie continues to goad me. “We’ve got your breakfast sausage, your frankfurter, your Hungarian sausage, and your Kielbasa just to name a few.”

The Hungarian sausage is huge, but the Kielbasa ropes around itself and makes a loop—and that makes it twice as long as the Hungarian sausage.

“Don’t feel bad about telling the truth, Lemon.” Everett gives my shoulder a quick pat. There’s a reason Noah likes to fry up those breakfast sausages for you whenever he can. He wants to remind you of what you’re missing out on.”

Noah’s chest pumps with a dry laugh. “Let’s just say I’ve got a little Hungarian in my blood and leave it at that. Lottie won’t deny it. She can’t.” He raises his brows my way as if daring me to do so.

But Noah’s right. There’s not a thing I can say to contest his manly prowess. So I rubber band a smile across my face instead.

“Wow.” Charlie fans herself with her fingers. “If I wasn’t motivated before, I’m twice as motivated now. How about you, Sexy?” She winks up at Everett. “What’s Lot Lot’s favorite sausage these days?”

I roll my eyes at both the fact she invoked Carlotta’s nickname for me and the disgusting double entendre she just threw at my husband.

Everett’s lips flicker. “Let’s just say what I’m offering up has kept the ladies wanting more and left them more than satisfied.” He pulls me in. “But I’m only interested in keeping one lady wanting more, and more than satisfied.”

I swoon a little at his impromptu ode to our love as he presses a kiss to my lips.

A waitress in shorts so short I’m pretty sure she’s wearing bathing suit bottoms seats us. She’s got a blue checkered shirt, much like my own, tied off under her heaving bosom and a straw cowboy hat pressed over her blonde curls.

“Well, hells bells.” She shakes the aforementioned heaving bosom at Noah and Everett. “Come to Mama. Let me take your numbers, boys.”

“Go on.” Carlotta nudges Everett. “She probably needs it so she can call us when our table is ready.”

The buxom blonde chuckles. “No, hon, I’ll need that for when I get off work.”

Charlie inches toward her. “Find us a table, Blondie, or you won’t have a job to come back to.”

“Okay, sheesh.” The blonde leads the way just as a familiar couple enters into the establishment behind us.

“Oh, thank heavens. They haven’t been seated yet,” my mother says to Wiley as she pulls him along. Mom looks just as stylish as she did this afternoon, and Wiley looks every bit like Noah. From his dimples to his blue jeans, they look identical, sans the fact Wiley has a bit of gray hair sprinkled here and there.

“Hey, hey!” Wiley waves at us. “The gang’s all here to celebrate my birthday!” He leans toward Noah and me and holds his hand to his mouth. “They give out a free birthday side dish. Play along, would you?”

I nod over at Noah. “It’s the perfect cover.”

Soon, we’re seated just a few feet from the dance floor at a table large enough to accommodate us all. It doesn’t take long for us to decide to order the smoked feast sampler for twenty—yes, twenty. Everett and Noah were afraid if we ordered any less they wouldn’t have the all-you-can-eat buffet action they’ve been salivating for all the way here.