Baby Bundt Cake Confusion (Murder in the Mix Book 31) Unknown (good beach reads .txt) 📖

“I’m starting to think you’re a bad influence.”

“A smart man like you should have picked up on that years ago. But with Jimmy dead and out of our lives, it would sure be a whole lot easier. Hey? I bet that was the motive in shooting Jasmine and Owen. Someone out there thinks their life just got a whole lot easier.”

“Now to narrow down who.”

“It feels impossible.”

“It would be if you weren’t on the job, Lemon. I’ve got faith in you. Now get to bed.” He lands a heated kiss to my lips while warming my belly with his hand. “I love you both.”

He takes off and I watch as he gives a quick wave from Noah’s porch.

Everything is backward.

Everything is upside down.

Something has to give.

There’s a killer out there who belongs behind bars. A woman out there who is wearing my face like a Halloween mask. And a couple of amateur killers out there standing between my man and my needs. And one hormonal mama-to-be looking to take them all down.

That would be me.

And that’s exactly what I’m about to do.

Lottie

My due date comes and goes without any fanfare.

Dr. Barnette says I’m not even close to having this baby. She suggests lots of sex, and Noah volunteers for the effort. Sad to say, I am this close to taking him up on it. I hate this sexual drought Jimmy Canelli has brought into my life. Everett isn’t too thrilled with it either.

It’s evening. Noah has brought over a couple of pizzas from our favorite Italian restaurant, Mangias, and Everett picked up Wicked Wok. Basically, the two of them are doing whatever I ask now, seeing that my body has decided having a baby isn’t something it wants to do at any time in the near future.

We eat out on the sofa as our lives devolve into some adult version of a frat house. Both Noah and Everett are suspended from their careers. And at this point, I’m more or less an accessory at the bakery—a rather large, very much in the way accessory that no one has any use for.

So tonight we’re satiating our appetites watching Pancake and Waffles jumping all around Lil’ Mama and trying to have their way with the perky poltergeist—sadly only Carlotta and I can see the real show. But for some reason, I’m beginning to think Pancake and Waffles can see Lil’ Mama, too.

“These boys are frisky, Lottie.” She barks my way and I watch, amused, as her silky white fur shimmies like a waterfall with her every move. “And from what they tell me, I’m not the only ghostly ghoul who has winked their way. They’re quite the hot commodity among the dead.”

I nod her way because it’s true. My sweet furry boys have attracted their fair share of dearly departed friends. They’re essentially chick magnets. It seems to be a running theme in my life with the men I choose to spend my time with—the chick magnet part.

Noah and Everett are basically chick magnets themselves, with the exception they attract the living.

Carlotta points the pizza slice in her hand at Everett. “So what’s the scoop on the dirty judge that was blown away in Fallbrook?”

Evie nods. “I bet he’s the one they gunned down. Hate to break it to you, Dad. But whoever you ticked off enough to blow up your car is probably getting ready to hunt you down. Face it, they’ve got a vendetta, and it’s open season on judges.”

Noah shakes his head at her. “It’s not happening. Your dad is safe, Evie. Let’s just say I’ve got friends in gun-wielding places. I’ve called out more than a few favors. There’s an entire parade of patrol cars circling the neighborhood—and the bakery. Nobody is getting gunned down on my watch. It might be open season, but it’s open season for anyone breaking the law, and that includes whoever thinks they have a beef with your dad, or the person who is responsible for that double homicide. So don’t be afraid. And please don’t worry about your dad. He’s going to be okay, I promise.”

Evie’s shoulders sink a notch. “Thanks, Uncle Noah. You have no idea how much better I feel.” She reaches over and gives him a quick embrace.

“Thank you, Noah,” Everett says, looking over at his old stepbrother. “I’d ask you to call off the patrol, I don’t like taxpayer dollars getting spent on my behalf, but if it makes Evie feel better, then so be it.”

“It makes me feel better, too.” I reach over and give Noah’s hand a squeeze. “Thank you.”

“Sorry, Lot,” Carlotta snorts. “But the taxpayers aren’t the only ones bankrolling this private security detail. Foxy is going to require a special tax from you, too.”

“Don’t listen to her, Evie,” I say. “There’s nothing going on in that bedroom between your uncle and me.” I thought I should throw that out there since she made kissy noises at Noah and me last night when we headed for bed.

“So it’s like a sleepover?” There’s a mischievous glint in Evie’s eye, and I’m not sure I like where this is going.

“Yes.” I give Noah an apprehensive glance. Noah has been reading to the baby, holding my belly, holding me, but we’re fully dressed. It’s perfectly innocent. Okay, well, Noah sleeps in his boxers, but I’ve seen him in less. And Carlotta turns the heater on so darn high at night I’m practically melting. I might just be less than appropriately dressed by morning myself, but Noah has seen me in my birthday suit more times than I can count. “It’s a perfectly innocent sleepover.” I double down on my questionable chastity.

A low growl emits from Everett’s chest, but I choose to ignore it for the moment.

Evie lifts a finger. “Funny you should bring up sleepovers, Mom. It’s Spring Break in two weeks and the junior and senior classmen are flying to Cabo San Lucas for