“Thank you for saving me from myself. I was a mess, and we both know it. You made a real man out of me.”
“Everett, you bypassed boyhood in the womb. You were born a real man. Speaking of manly things, how did it go hiring the contractor? Did you pick one? Will the house be ready for the baby?”
His eyes widen a notch as he stares out the windshield.
Last night, the topic came up before bed, but as soon as he helped me take off my dress, we got distracted with other, far more delicious things, like keeping each other warm the old-fashioned way. And boy, is Everett an expert at heating things up.
“Actually, that’s just what I wanted to talk to you about.” His lips flicker with the hint of a smile. “I vetted about seven contractors. They were all pretty solid. You won’t like the time frame of the completed projects, but they were all more or less shooting for some point next summer. Which is quick,” he’s ironically quick to add, but I slump in my seat regardless.
“Why do I feel a but coming on?”
“No but. Just that one of the contractors made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”
“Was she a leggy redhead whose figure hasn’t been transformed within an inch of a beach ball? Because if so, the deal is off the table.”
“Nope. It was a burly man with a barrel chest who happens to be married to your best friend.”
“Oh no,” I moan. “No, no, no. We can’t hire Bear. He still hasn’t finished Grandma Nell’s house, and it’s been over a year now. We’ll never move into our dream home. Evie will be married and have kids of her own, and Sugar Cookie here will be leaving for college by the time we get the keys. That is, if they still use keys that far off into the future.”
“I don’t know if I should spoil the surprise, but Bear told me he’s putting the finishing touches on Nell’s place and that he might be done as soon as next week. Although I’m not entirely sure he was telling the truth.”
“Wow, that means Carlotta could be out of our hair in a week. Is it bad that I’m kind of missing her already? But not too much. Carlotta doesn’t stray too far.”
His brow hikes as he nods in agreement. “He says he can have our house done by the date the others were quoting. But—”
“Here we go.”
“He said if I hired him he’d do all the repairs on the house for free for life.”
A dull moan comes from me.
“Everett, what kind of repairs is a new home going to need? Never mind. Don’t answer that. If Bear is building it, we’re looking at a repair a week.”
Everett sighs. “I can tell you’re not too keen on the idea of using him. Don’t worry. It’s not set in stone.” He exits the highway, and I can already see the tall white stately building we’re headed to. “There was one more thing Bear mentioned, but he did ask that I don’t share it with you.”
“Judge Baxter, I demand you tell me the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Fess up.”
“He said he and Keelie were tight right now, and they could really use the money. He says they’re looking to buy a house themselves, and they’re barely eking by. And a job like this doesn’t come along all that often in Honey Hollow.”
Another moan works its way up my throat. “I guess I could give Keelie a raise at the Honey Pot, but the place is barely making ends meet as it is. This winter has been really brutal. People want to stay in and curl up by the fire. No one is going out to eat anymore.” I sigh. “Fine. Give it to Bear. As long as I find you in my bed at the end of the day, all is right with the world.” The baby kicks in agreement.
Everett pulls into a secured lot and parks in the underground garage in the spot marked number seven, his very own private parking space.
He reaches over and brushes his thumb over my cheek.
“You’re going to do great in there, Lemon. Whether or not you’re chosen to participate, I want you to know I’m proud of you. Text me and let me know when it all shakes out. And let me know the name of the judge. I’ll tell him to go easy on you.” He gives a little wink.
“Hopefully, I’ll be out of here by noon. Noah promised me a pizza at Mangias to celebrate, and believe me, I’m already craving the anchovies.”
Everett helps me out of the car. “I take it the anchovies are a new craving?”
I give a little nod as I wrap my arms around my handsome husband. “I’ve also got a very serious hankering to get inside of your robe. Don’t think for a minute I came all the way down here without paying a visit to your chambers. This day ends well for both of us.”
“Now that’s something I’m going to hold you to.”
“Oh, I’ll keep my word, Judge Baxter.” I give his buns of steel a quick squeeze, and a dangerous smile curves on his lips. “I wouldn’t want to be found in contempt.” A thought hits me. “Hey, does the judge have the ability to dismiss me?”
He tips his head to the side. “Yes, but only if he found valid grounds.”
“Perfect. Send a picture of me to every judge you know inside that building. If you get me out of this, there’s something far more tempting I’m willing to give than anything Bear has to offer. What I have planned is outside the bounds of anything we’ve ever done before.” And that’s saying a lot, considering this is Essex Everett Baxter I’m speaking to.
“You’ve piqued my curiosity.” He frowns as he says it, and I can’t help but note he doesn’t look pleased.
Something tells me Everett isn’t going to mass text my picture to his cohorts. I’ll have to get out of this myself.
The Ashford County Courthouse is your iconic white marble wonder with thick Roman columns with a million tiny steps leading up to the wide glass doors. It’s warm inside, smells like glue, the floors are marble, the walls are covered with dark mahogany, and the entire front of the building is teeming with people. Once we get through the security checkpoint, Everett gives me a mouthwatering kiss before we part ways.
Before I know it, I’m shuffled into a long line of potential jurors as we’re marched into what looks like a tiny theater and given a fifteen-minute speech on the dos and don’ts of what will happen once we enter the courtroom.
I’m more than a little familiar with the courtroom setting. That’s actually how Everett and I met. My old landlords, a couple of mean old sisters, were suing me because their business wasn’t doing well. Anyway, Everett was subbing in small claims court for his buddy, and he wisely sided with me.
But the best part of that day was what happened before we officially met in the courtroom. We had already unofficially met outside on our way to the coffee shop next door to the courthouse. Let’s just say our worlds collided and things have never been the same for either one of us. After we bumped into one another in a rather dramatic fashion, and Everett’s briefcase and all of its contents went flying, I introduced myself, but Everett stubbornly wouldn’t give me his name.
I thought for sure when the barista wrote his name on his cup at the coffee shop I’d be in the know, but she scribbled out Mr. Sexy instead, as she should have. It wasn’t until later that we bumped into one another again that I learned not only his name, but that he was Noah’s once upon a stepbrother. And the rest, as they say, is history.
And how I wish this stint of mine at the courthouse was history, too.
The bailiff here seems to be running the juror show as he calls in batches of us at a time to head into the courtroom. And those of us not chosen remain clustered in this small room that smells of stale coffee and despair, while staring at our phones like a bunch of zombies.
The afternoon wears on, and Noah and I text one another like a couple of teenagers. I asked if he was busy and I know for a fact he’s a big liar because he said he has all the time in the world for me. Noon turns to two, then two to almost four, and that window on lunch has securely closed.
Instead of noshing on a pizza at Mangias with Noah like I had fantasized, I eat a couple of fried pickles paired with just about every bag of potato chips the vending mach
ines have to offer. It’s not my fault I wasn’t able to have a nutritious meal. The fact the cafeteria smelled liked sauerkraut practically forced me to resort to inhaling carbs at a dangerous rate. I’d hate for my nausea to rear its ugly head so soon in the day. I’m hoping to save all of the projectile vomiting to entertain the legal eagles with.
Finally, my group is called and my adrenaline begins to ratchet up. I plan on limping my way into that courtroom and arching my back to make my stomach look twice as big. I wore one of the biggest tent dresses I could find that pronounced my maternal condition, and like I mentioned, I’m not afraid to go along with whatever my nausea decides to give me. It still hits me hard about once or twice a day, and if I have to puke my way out of this judicial mess, then so be it.
We enter the courtroom, and the majesty of the room alone sets my nerves aflutter. More creamy marble floors, an entire forest of dark-stained wood lines the walls, and a multitude of thick wooden chairs are set out for those who wish to observe the proceedings.
“Psst.” The blonde next to me pats my arm. “Check out that side of beef sitting up on that throne. My goodness, I think he’s staring right at me. Oh honey, I may not get selected to serve on this jury, but I think I just got an invite to his private chambers.”
I make a face before looking up to catch a glimpse of the perverse judge we’re dealing with and my eyes spring wide.
It’s Everett!
“Oh, thank God.” I give a sigh of relief.
“Right?” Ms. Hot to Trot next to me giggles. “Who knew this is where they keep all the melt in your mouth, delicious men? And I cannot wait to take a bite out of this one.” She pinches her skirt up a notch until it’s about mid-thigh and her formfitting pink sweater is already doing a great job of displaying the girls. She’s about my age, long blonde hair that’s teased every which way, and has far too much glossy red lipstick on, half of which is on her teeth. I would have warned her about it, but since she’s got her sights set on my hubby, there’s no way I’m going to tell her she looks like a vampire who just drew blood.
“He might be married.” I give her a cheeky shrug, and she gurgles out a laugh.
“Oh honey, with a face like that, his wife is practically required to share him.” She shakes back her hair. “They don’t call me Annie Position for nothing. I’ll throw out the invite. I bet I’ll have his personal number by the time this day is through. Watch a pro at work and learn, kid.”
I scoff as she struts on ahead with her chin tipped up, chest out, and hips in full swing.
How dare she.
I give Everett a slight wave as I follow the rest of the jurors, including Annie Position to Steal Your Man, and we find our seats.
Everett’s lips curve a touch as our eyes lock for a moment.
My heart thumps hard over my chest seeing him up there like a god in that dark robe, his eyes sirening out like a couple of blue flames.
Everett looks heart-stoppingly dangerous in that power position, with that face blessed by the Almighty Himself. It’s suddenly becoming very apparent that Everett most likely has a fistful of women doing their best to seduce him each and every day.
My heart sinks at the thought.
Everett is mine, and I don’t ever plan on sharing him with another woman—at least not those who aren’t related to him.
“Welcome to my courtroom.” Everett nods my way in particular, but Annie here, who just so happens to be seated next to me, thinks he just gave her the all-clear judging by the way she’s giggling right at him. “My name is Judge Baxter, and today you’ll be briefly questioned by both the prosecution and the defense. Mr. Wolfe here is the acting attorney for the prosecution.” He nods to a man seated at a desk before him in his late thirties, scruffy facial hair, navy suit, and a mischievous look in his eyes.
Annie leans my way. “Oh wow, he’s hot, too.”
I nod. And thank God for it, too. At least that takes some of the heat off Everett. Probably not much. Everett exudes his own peculiar brand of testosterone. I’ve seen women do daring things to get noticed by him in both churches and grocery stores alike. The man is basically an estrogen magnet.
Everett points his gavel to the table to his right. “And Ms. Dagmeyer will be representing the defendant. Without further ado, let’s get to questioning.”
A tiny gasp escapes me. Fiona is here.
Everett used to date Fiona Dagmeyer way back when. And, of course, she and I know one another. In fact, she might know that I’m married to Everett. Once she sees I’m in the prospective pool of jurors, she’ll be the first to give me the boot.
It looks as if I won’t have to start in with any of the shenanigans I had planned. It was going to take a lot of nerve to say some of those things I thought up—things like I’m really good at judging people and the defendant looks guilty to me. Meg told me to say that one. Although that wouldn’t work because there’s no one seated next to Fiona to fill those guilty shoes.
Or the one where I start howling like a loon and clawing at my neck—Carlotta’s suggestion. It sounded like solid advice yesterday, but in the light of the courtroom, and how put together and, dare I say, gorgeous Fiona looks today—not to mention Annie Get Your Fun—I don’t want to be the loon in this scenario.
Fiona Dagmeyer is a smart, pretty brunette with her hair slicked back into a French knot, a pair of dark-rimmed glasses resting on her nose, and a turquoise power suit on, giving off that sexy librarian vibe. I’m not all that thrilled she knows my husband in the carnal sense.
Mr. Wolfe goes first and starts pegging random jurors with an entire litany of questions before he gets to me.
“What about you, juror number twenty-three?” His lips twitch, and Annie sighs as he comes in close. He’s a wolf, all right. I can tell he’s taken up Everett’s baton as the official Ashford County womanizer of the courthouse. “Do you agree with the phrase bad things don’t happen at random—someone is always to blame?” His lids hood my way, and if I didn’t know better, I’d think he was hitting on me.
“Of course, there’s always someone you can blame. But on occasion, we bring things on ourselves.” I’m not sure about anything I just said, but I’m hoping I confused him enough to make him think twice about keeping me around.
His eyes ride up and down my body, and I wrap my arms around this beach ball of flesh I have sitting under my dress.
“How do you feel about the justice system?” He doesn’t even blink at my blooming belly.
“I suppose it’s a necessary evil.” A part of me wishes I told him that I hated it and that I would rather run through the halls naked eating fried pickles than sit in this chair another minute, but out of respect for Everett I choose to display a modicum of sanity. I’ll save my rage for later where the judge himself can help me vent in a much more physical manner.
Mr. Wolfe ticks his head to the side. “What do you do for a living?”
“I’m a baker. I’m essential to getting the entire town of Honey Hollow off to a good start with my coffee and fresh baked breakfast offerings. You should probably dismiss me. You wouldn’t want to be responsible for an entire cranky town, now would you?”
A light chuckle circles the jury pool.
Mr. Wolfe purses his lips. “I’m sure they could make do for two or three weeks.”
“Two or three weeks?” I balk. “You people are insane if you think you’re going to hijack our lives for that long.”
Everett’s eyes widen a notch as a collective groan works its way through the jury box in agreement.
Mr. Wolfe chuckles. “You’re feisty. I like you. How do you think those who know you best might describe you?”
“I don’t know. Why don’t you ask my husband?” I glance over at the man seated up on a perch and all eyes drift his way.
Everett stretches a short-lived smile across his face.
“Mr. Wolfe, Ms. Dagmeyer, juror number twenty-three is my wife.”
A guttural moan comes from at least six d
ifferent women in the jury box, the most prominent belonging to Annie. She might be down, but she’s not out. I’ve already caught her licking her lips and winking at the Wolfe of Wall Street here. It’s always sensible to have a plan B. Or in her case a plan W.
“Really, Essex?” Fiona Dagmeyer says with a laugh caught in her mouth, and he nods her way.
Okay, so she didn’t know Everett and I tied the knot, but then, not many people do, considering it started out as a business transaction while I was dating another man. I’m betting Fiona didn’t peg Everett for the marrying kind. Not many people would—especially not many of his exes who have garnered themselves “Essex” privileges.
Annie huffs my way, “I suppose that’s his baby, too.”
“The jury is still out on that one,” I mutter under my breath.
Mr. Wolfe rocks back on his heels. “Judge Baxter, what kind of a juror do you think your wife would make?”
Everett draws a steady breath, his serious eyes never leaving mine.
Come on, Everett. Tell them how scatterbrained I’ve been. I made coffee at home the other day and forgot to put the mug under the single-serving dispenser. The entire counter was dripping with boiling hot java. Or how just yesterday I put the cereal in the fridge and the milk in the cupboard. Granted it was midnight and he was nibbling on my neck, but still—that could be a lethal oversight for a potential juror.
Everett nods my way. “I think she would make a fine juror. Please proceed with questioning.”
Oh, he’s going to get it. Or not. This is a punishment we’re talking about. But then, that’s one punishment that works both ways.
Mr. Wolfe holds his hands up. “By all means, Judge Baxter. If she’s good enough for you, she’s good enough for me.”
Perfect. I shoot Everett a look for that one.
Mr. Wolfe takes a seat, and soon Fiona Dagmeyer, aka The Dagger around these judicial parts, is quizzing everyone but me on a bevy of questions that range from their thoughts on tattoos to what they ate for breakfast.
Murder in the Mix Boxed Set 28-30: Cozy Mystery Page 28
