“Stay here.” He bolts that way and whips the door open, peering out at the darkness. “There’s no one out here, Lottie. Do you think you could have…you know”—he winces—“seen a ghost?”
I suck in a never-ending breath. “My God, if my powers have grown in such a way that Pastor Gaines of all people can haunt me, then I don’t want anything to do with them. I’ll be turning in my supersensual card to the first paranormal agency I can find.”
“Come here.” He pulls me into a strong embrace. Noah’s rock-hard body adheres to mine, and I don’t want to let go. I don’t want to be a part of this night any longer.
“Let’s check on my mother and then get out of here.” I run my hands down the front of his shirt. “I’d love to bring you back to my place.” I shrug. “I miss having you there with me.”
“Then that’s where we’ll go.” He lands a sweltering kiss to my lips.
Noah and I race next door to the conservatory brimming with a sea of gray—and oddly, these people all look just as good if not better than any of their younger counterparts I’ve come across.
The women look amazing with their skin glowing, their grins stretched from ear to ear. The men aren’t so bad either with their fancy suits, their winning smiles. Everyone has a drink in their hand as laughter and the din of cheery conversations abound.
I’m in awe of every single soul in the room. They’ve lived great lives and they’re still going, healthy and strong, classy and elegant, looking for love right here at the—
My eye catches the sign hanging from above the back door—Welcome to the Third Annual Swingers Soirée.
“What?” I spot Miranda Lemon yucking it up with a group of dicey looking men, and I make a beeline for her. “Can I borrow you for a moment?” I pull her to the side without waiting for a response. She’s donned a tight black dress, so short I’m entirely convinced she’s donned the top to a pantsuit, which is suspiciously missing its lower half. Her hair is curled and winged back circa 1980, and she has a swath of bright red lipstick on—always my favorite shade on her—MAC, Ruby Woo. Honestly? Is there any other color?
“Would you let go?” She plucks her arm free. “In the event you’re unaware, I bruise easily.”
“So does my ego. What are the fine people of Honey Hollow going to think once they find out you’re hosting a porn convention and an exorcism on the very same night?”
“They’re going to think I’m fun, Lottie!”
I suck in a quick breath. “Fun? Mother, are you even vaguely aware of what a swinger is?”
“Yes.” Her brows narrow as if the idea stymied her. “It’s a group of people who like to have a swinging good time.”
“Good grief. I’m going to go with the fact you really don’t know. It means you like to swap—and exchange partners. As in eww, that’s disgusting!”
“I don’t want to swap. Topper and I are officially together now.” Her voice curls in a sexy snarl that makes my stomach churn. “I’m his date tonight.”
“Of course, you are. How else would he play this perverted game? Only I bet he’s not going to swap you. He’s simply going to add to the equation!”
She waves me off. “Oh, Lottie, I know he is. In fact, he introduced me to two other very wealthy men who are interested in taking us out for drinks!”
Good God. I can’t.
“And what exactly do you think their intentions are with the two of you?” I had to go there. If you’re going to connect the dots, you should always start at the beginning.
“We’re going to further discuss our favorite positions on things.” She stops abruptly and glances around as if slowly coming to.
“Brace yourself, Mother. They weren’t talking politics. The entire lot of them wants to take you to bed!”
She fans herself with her fingers. “Your father always said men were wild to have me as their own. They’ll just have to eat their hearts out. I belong to Topper now.”
“No, don’t you get it? Topper wants them all to have you at once.”
Her mouth falls open. “You mean? The three of us?” Her jaw roots to the floor. “Oh, Lottie, now you’re just being silly. Head on over to the bar. Topper arranged to have a signature drink made for the party. It’s called a trilateral delight.”
There are no words in the human lexicon to describe how I’m feeling right now.
“Fine,” I say. “I didn’t want to do this, but I’m going to have to rat you out to Lainey and Meg.” I take a picture of Mom smiling under the raunchy signage and shoot it over to my sisters.
Meg is the first to respond with an emoji that’s laughing so hard it’s crying.
I flash it at my mother. “She’s still typing.”
We’ll put her in a nice home come morning. Lock her in the pantry for safekeeping tonight, would you?
“See this?” I say with a touch of satisfaction. “Meg thinks you’re a danger to yourself and you should be restrained.”
Mom lifts a brow. “I’ll agree to the pantry so long as Topper can come with me.”
Lainey texts back an entire sea of expletives, and I’m a bit slower to share my sister’s disdain with her.
“You girls are impossible.” She waves me off as she looks around. “Wait a minute. That’s Marcia. She’s Richard B’s girlfriend, and she’s leaving with Carlisle.” Her fingers gravitate to her lips. “And isn’t that Betty? Wasn’t her husband of fifty years here? What’s she doing kissing Mr. Riley? He has a very attractive girlfriend who is twenty years his junior.”
“Face it, Mother. You’ve got an entire roomful of partner swapping deviants who think you’ve just green-lighted their philandering behavior.”
“Oh dear,” she moans as she looks around. “We need to get these people out of here. If the citizens of Honey Hollow find out about it, they’re liable to run me right out of town!”
“And straight to Leeds where they think you belong.” I glance around for two of my favorite studs. “Hang on.”
I spot Noah and Everett with their arms folded tightly across their chests standing a safe distance outside of the conservatory.
I speed over in a flash. “Quick! We need to help my mother get these people out of here.”
Everett shakes his head. “I can’t risk getting my picture taken anywhere near that banner. I’ve got a career to uphold.”
“Same here,” Noah pipes up.
“Well, how in the heck am I going to get them out of here?” A wild panic starts to build in me at the thought of the senior sect pulling an all-nighter at my mother’s B&B. A thought comes to me. “Noah, clear the room so we can get back to my place.”
Noah charges past me and whips out his badge, holding it high overhead.
“You have two minutes to vacate the premises or you're all under arrest!” His voice roars so loud, the echo circles the room twice.
And just like that, a silver blur takes over as the room drains from its every orifice.
Noah comes back with the look of a man who’s about to get lucky, and he is.
“Good work,” I say. “Even the bartender has abandoned his post.”
We say goodnight to my mother and pile back into Noah’s truck.
“Would you mind running by the bakery so I can pick up my car? I’ll be needing it in the morning.”
“Sure thing.”
We stop off and Everett offers to drive along with me.
It’s so cold in my Honda, I apologize ten times before we ever leave the alley for dragging Everett into the Ice Age with me.
“You need a new car, Lemon. One you can start remotely and have it nice and toasty by the time you get inside.”
“Like yours?” I tease. Everett’s car has enough bells and whistles it could run the space station.
“Like mine.”
I take the turnout of the alley a little too fast, trying my hardest to make the light at the end of the street.
“Slow down, Lemon. Arriving alive is still the right option.”
<
br /> “You bet,” I say, pumping the brakes, but nothing happens. “Everett?” My voice hikes in a panic. “Everett, the brakes aren’t working!” I slam the pedal to the floorboard over and over again.
“Lemon, watch out!”
A horrific crash erupts as my front end wraps itself around a tree, and just like that, the windshield explodes as Everett bursts right through it. My head slams against the steering wheel and the world grows increasingly fuzzy.
She’s done it. Cormack has finally managed to kill me, and unfortunately for Everett, she might have offed him, too.
Chapter 19
Thirteen stitches.
I’m sensing a theme here.
Thankfully, Noah decided to follow us and was able to call for an ambulance. After a visit to the emergency room, both Everett and I walked away with ugly bruises. Everett also sustained cuts to his arms, which he used to shield those aggressive good looks when his seat belt failed, but, nonetheless, we’re still at a few stitches apiece—thus totaling the unlucky number. I have three stitches along the right side of my forehead, and Everett has ten running from the corner of his lip to his jaw on his left side. The scans they did showed no signs of brain swelling for either of us, and for that I’m extremely grateful.
The doctor suggested someone keep an eye on the two of us for the next few hours, so I spent the night at Everett’s to keep an eye on him and Noah slept on the couch. Yes, I slept with Everett, but we did just that, sleep. Well, he slept. I listened to his steady breathing all night while plotting a murder of my own.
If Cormack thinks she’s going to get away with this, she is sorely mistaken. First the tree? And then cutting my brakes? She is certifiable! But then, I’ve known that all along. Of course, neither Noah nor Everett dares to believe it.
They actually defended her.
Defended!
I’m quick to push it out of my mind. Once I start dwelling on it, my blood hits an instant boil.
Besides, now that it’s clear Cormack has her sights set on me, I’ve been on guard all week. And there have been incidences. The sack of flour that nearly decapitated me from the upper rung of the delivery cart in the alley? Cormack. The metal pole that seemingly came out of nowhere and tripped me on the way down my porch yesterday morning? A total Featherby move.
But most disturbing was the mysterious basket of apples that was waiting by my door when I got home last night. They had a stamp from Grand Orchard on them and a simple note that read Enjoy!
Normally, I would have been ecstatic to have the treats. Fresh apples this time of year are my absolute favorite. But I couldn’t shake the vision of Cormack injecting them all with cyanide, so I promptly took the whole thing and threw it into the trash bin in the side yard.
Almost a week has passed since I wrapped my car around a tree. It’s Halloween, the night of the Monsters Ball at the Evergreen Manor, and I’ve been making a steady stream of deliveries. I’ve worked tirelessly over the last two days baking around the clock to make sure there would be enough to fill the ridiculously large order Naomi put in. On the final trip, Everett helps me pull out the last few boxes of cupcakes and lock up the refrigerated van. It’s the van he gifted me almost a year ago after I helped clear him off the suspect list after one of his girlfriends—and I use the term loosely—was killed. I was in a competition to win one of those refrigerated beauties when I came upon the suspect, and sure enough I hunted her down. I burned my pie and lost to a longtime rival, but the killer was brought to justice.
“Let’s get these to the kitchen, Frankenstein.” I can’t help but giggle. Everett has opted to forgo a costume. Instead, he looks dapper in his business attire that he wears down to the courthouse. But those stitches on the side of his face give the appeal of Dr. Frankenstein’s monster—and I have to admit, it’s a sexy look.
“They come out tomorrow, Lemon. So do yours.”
“Don’t I know it. I feel like a patchwork doll each time I look in the mirror. Hey? You don’t think Cormack will try to finish me off tonight, do you?”
He winces as we enter the kitchen of the Evergreen Manor through the back door. You can hear the din of voices, what sounds like a cast of thousands coming from the main hall.
The parking lot outside is filled to capacity, but thankfully there’s valet so no need to worry about stumbling around in the woods trying to get here.
“I talked to Cormack.” Everett sighs.
“You did?” I practically shriek the words at him. Cormack has been wisely avoiding me. That is, when she’s not busy planting booby traps in an effort to do me in.
“Yes, she came by the courthouse yesterday afternoon and we went for coffee.”
“Coffee? At our coffee shop?” Okay, so the fact it’s ours is a bit of a stretch, but the coffee shop next to the courthouse is where we met. It might have been a bit of an inglorious meeting, what with me trying to ram him in the crotch with the top of my head. Initially, there was a bit of a trip and fall trauma that resulted in a difficult time getting up, but it was a memorable meeting nonetheless.
“Yes, Lemon. At our coffee shop.” His lips twist as if he were remorseful. “I’m sorry. But I spoke to her about the incidences that you—we found concerning, and she categorically denied any involvement.”
“Of course, she did. Every killer that I happened to have apprehended this last year categorically denied having anything to do with their crimes right before they were caught. You of all people should know that every suspect sings his innocence.”
And just like that, Thirteen materializes over the elongated island flooded with far too many sweet treats. Naomi really did over order. She never was good at math.
“Good All Hallows’ Eve,” he purrs.
“Good evening, Thirteen,” I say quickly before turning back to Everett. “So I suppose you’re just going to believe her word over mine. Nice to know where my credibility lies with you.”
“You have no evidence.”
“You have no evidence she didn’t do it!”
“Ohh,” Thirteen yowls. “Who is the infamous she?”
“She is a witch,” I hiss and Everett’s eyes enlarge at my seemingly uncalled for outburst.
Noah walks through the back. “Knock, knock.” He comes over with a crooked grin. He’s dressed in jeans and a crimson varsity football jersey with the number thirteen in large gold letters, and I can’t help but smile.
“Hey, princess.” Noah stalks over, looking far too handsome for me to keep my hands off him for too long. “You look great. You look like a queen, and you are. You’re my queen. Are you up for the romantic day I have planned for us tomorrow?” He lands a quick kiss to my lips and lingers for a moment.
Noah has yet to make good on Dr. Allen’s suggestion to do something wildly romantic with me, but he assured me he was cooking up something big.
“You can bet I’m looking forward to it. And, for the record, I’m a fairy,” I say, plucking at my pale green skirt. There’s a silver bodice up top and small iridescent wings strapped over my back. “Meg furnished the costume for me. She says they have an entire cache down at Red Satin. I opted for something more demure than the other offerings she suggested.”
“You opted wisely.” He leans in and whispers, “Save the wings. I’ve got plans for them later.” He nods to Everett. “What’s with the tension?”
“Cormack,” Everett says her name quietly as if he were afraid he might conjure up a demon. He’s not that far off.
Noah tips his head back with a knowing look on his face.
“What?” I peg him with a look that suggests he needs to cough up answers and do it now.
“Everett told me about his meeting with Cormack. It sounded like it went well. She said she didn’t do it.”
“Noah, you are legally obligated to side with me. I’m your wife. Why are you so quick to believe Cormack all the time?” I glower at Everett who looks as if he’s about to burst out smiling at the thought of Noah and me having a spa
t right in front of him. “I’m talking to the both of you. I’m sick and tired of the two of you defending her honor and overlooking the fact I nearly died multiple times at her twisted hands. I should take that note to the Ashford’s Sheriff’s Department. Maybe they’ll believe me. Or has she infiltrated the ranks there, too?” I stalk off.
“Hey”—Noah calls after me—“Lottie, wait. Come back.”
“I am leaving. And I ask that neither of you follow me.”
Thirteen trots on ahead as we make my way to the reception desk. The Evergreen Manor could easily engulf my mother’s B&B at least four times over.
Fun fact: It was once home to a colonial era earl who thought a supersized estate would be enough to bring all the pretty maids to the yard. And I’m betting it worked. The outside has a stately appeal with its large oversized Grecian columns that stretch to the sky and the ironwork that scrolls along the balconies. The inside is opulent with a homey feel. It has twin staircases that twist to the second level and the ambiance is that of a fancy hotel. The granite counters are lined with pumpkin vases brimming with sunflowers and there are cobwebs and fake spiders and cutouts of witches and ghosts in every nook and cranny. But it’s the people who have caught my eye.
Every costume imaginable is pouring into the lavish ballroom to my left. I see the bride of Frankenstein, whom I’m sure will try to snag Everett for herself—at least if she were sane or single.
There are tons of beautiful girls in costumes with the too short, vamped up, glammed up versions of everything you can imagine from nurses to fairy-tale princesses. The men are either monsters, vampires, or dressed as some version of a sports team.
I head straight to the front desk where Naomi is dressed like Maleficent, the wicked fairy from Sleeping Beauty who proclaims herself as the Mistress of All Evil. I’d say it suits Naomi. Her dark hair looks as if it were freshly dyed, so very, very dark it looks as if you could fall right into it like some time-traveling portal.
She’s speaking with a tall woman with cinnamon-colored hair, older, about my mother’s age, her orange lips twisted with what looks like rage. Come to think of it, they seem to be having a rather heated conversation. The woman is dressed as a mummy right up to her neck, and I must admit, the gauze is wrapped so amazingly well it looks as if it’s a body suit of some sort. For her sake I hope it has an escape clause for restroom use.
Killer Cupcakes (MURDER IN THE MIX Book 14) Page 15
