Chocolate Chip Cookie Conundrum (Murder in the Mix Book 32) Unknown (me reader txt) 📖

dish!” Woody shouts as the waitresses set the newest, spiciest wings yet down before them. “This hot sauce is brought to you by the Carolina Reaper. Good luck, boys. You’re going to need it.”

Mayor Nash girds himself as he dives on in.

Noah and Everett exchange a glance, and for a second I think they’re going to pull a Kyle and Conner, but they simply glare at one another as if the other were to blame for landing them in this predicament to begin with—and that’s not a far stretch from the truth.

But they get right to it.

“Breathe!” I shout to the two of them, and sure enough, through each bite they look as if they’re right back to helping me with my labor breathing. “Slow, even breaths. Count to five! Let the pain do what it needs to do. Take your mind to a peaceful place!” It’s funny how a month later the roles are reversed and I’m suddenly the labor coach for the two of them. But the only thing they’re about to birth is a whole lot of trouble.

Mayor Nash gets as far as the second wing on his plate before he sits up with a jolt, picks up the red paddle, and whacks himself in the face with it over and over again.

That probably feels better than whatever is happening in his mouth right now.

“Two contestants left!” Woody howls. “Gentlemen, we have never gotten to the final plate in any of our previous competitions. So congratulations, you’re both already winners in my book. But I bet one of you is hungry enough to make it official. Ladies,” he calls out as the last plate is set before them.

Both Noah and Everett look my way. Noah’s face has blown up twice as puffy as before, his eyes are a never-ending river of tears, and his lips are bloated. Everett has gone from red to purple, and his eyes are nothing but twin pools of blue set against a blood red backdrop.

Evie runs up next to me. “Mom, you’ve got to stop them. I think Uncle Noah’s head is about to explode, and Dad looks like he’s morphing into a demon.”

“You’re not wrong,” I say as the two of them start in on some power breaths while looking down at their plates.

Noah is the first to pick up a wing and Everett is right on his heels. They start in on them just as a wild riot of screams and squeals emits from behind, and I turn just in time to see an entire herd of dirty pink pigs running this way at top speed.

“Mom!” Evie quickly moves both me and somehow Carlotta out of the way. Both Noah and Everett jump from the table in time as about a hundred bewildered beasts blow right through it, and then blow through the table and chairs as if they weren’t even there.

And once the dust settles, Woody steps back onto the stage with a laugh.

“Let’s hear it for our dual champions! Congratulations, men. You’ll both be going home with prizes.”

Evie howls with delight, “Cheesy jalapeño cornbread muffins here we come!”

“I know what we’re having for dinner!” I howl right along with her.

Cluck Norris floats by just as a couple of ponies dart past us.

“I’ve done it, Lottie! My brothers and sisters are free!” He flies off to join the melee as if he were free himself.

“Speaking of done,” I say as Noah and Everett stagger this way.

Everett hands me the keys to my minivan before doubling over and letting out an awful groan. Noah’s face goes white as a sheet before turning an abrupt shade of green and he quickly runs behind the registration desk and doubles over himself.

Carlotta cries out from my left, and Evie and I look that way to see Mayor Nash lying on the ground with his purple face to the sky, clutching at his chest.

“I think we need a medic!” she shouts.

And before we know it, Noah, Everett, and Mayor Nash are all being treated by a team of professionals.

Noah and Everett are able to ride home with me, but Mayor Nash is taken to the hospital in an ambulance.

So much for having some safe and sane fun.

Lottie

As expected, there were moans and groans and more than a few screams of terror in the night.

A team of professionals evaluated Mayor Nash and determined him to have a bad case of heartburn. Both of my half-sisters, Kelleth and Aspen, texted to ask why I was trying to kill our father. I let them know it was his own fault, but that if they wanted to spread the blame they could shed a little in Carlotta’s direction. My half-brother, Finn, texted an entire string of laughing emojis and said the old man got what he deserved.

Mayor Nash spent the night in Carlotta’s room, and Carlotta spent the night on the toilet. I know this because every five minutes she’d shout fire in the hole—at the top of her lungs.

Noah spent the night in the nursery, and I kept a supply of ice-cold milk next to him, checking on him every few hours. He went from puking to having chills, to rolling around on the carpet for a few hours.

Everett slept like a corpse, so very soundly that every now and again I checked to see if he was still breathing. I guess he really does have a stomach of steel.

Evie slept like a baby, and ironically the baby slept as if she, too, indulged in a few too many hot wings. Then, at just about five-thirty, once my head hit the pillow and I fell into an instant deep sleep, a certain dead rooster decided to resurrect himself right over my bed as he doled out the loudest rooster call known to the living or the dead.

Suffice it to say, I’m a walking, talking zombie today.

We’re already deep within the courthouse, standing right outside of the very courtroom where Everett’s fate will be sealed for