Demon Hunting with a Dixie Deb - Lexi George Page 0,69

dessert,” she announced. “Whatchoo want?”

Sassy’s mouth watered in anticipation. She wanted it all. She needed it.

She opened her mouth to place her order but Taryn beat her to the punch.

“What is a nanner, serving wench?” the huntress asked.

Pauline’s piggy eyes narrowed in irritation. “Who you calling wench, wench? You trying to piss me off?”

“No. You are a man, then?”

“’Course I ain’t no man. I’ve had three husbands. And for yo’ information, a buh-nah-ner is a fruit, limp biscuit.” Pauline glared. “You want puddin’ or not?”

Taryn inclined her proud head. “I will sample it.”

“Yay.” Pauline turned her wrathful gaze on Sassy. “You got any stupid questions or you want dessert?”

“Yes, I—”

Evan cut her off. “Sassy can’t have sugar, darling.”

“Huh.” Pauline gave Sassy the once-over. “What’s wrong, you got the dia-beat-us?”

“No. I want one of everything.”

“You mean, like a sampler platter?”

“Not a good idea.” Evan put his hand to his mouth. “Sugar makes her hyper.”

“Oh, I gitcha. She’s got the ADD.”

Sassy sat up straight. “Do not.”

Pauline cackled like a hen. “Look at ’er face. She’s grumpier than a cat with a shaved ass. She got the ADD, all right. I know the signs. My daddy was slap ate up with it. Good thing I got my mama’s sweet disposition.” She gave Evan the once-over. “What about you, badness? You got the ADD?”

“Nope. I got the B-I-G, if you know what I mean.”

“Hoo. Listen to the cock crow.” Pauline’s thin mouth widened in a grin. “If I was five years younger, I’d make you prove it.”

Evan grinned back. “Ready, willing, and able.”

“Go on with your bad self.” Pauline gave him a friendly swat. “You a flirt like my third ex. He had them same come-hither eyes. Uglier’n homemade sin, but that man could get me outta my drawers in a heartbeat.”

Ew. With a double ick on top. There was a picture that made Sassy want to stab her mental eye out.

“I’ll take a slice of the buttermilk pie,” Evan said. “Heated, with extra topping.”

“Warm it under my armpit just for you.” Pauline winked at him before turning her attention to Grim. “How ’bout a piece of chocolate pie for you, sweetie? It’s g-o-o-d. Make you want to take it home and sit on it.”

Grim shuddered. “No, thank you. I will sample the strawberry cake instead.”

“Fine. Don’t listen to me. I just work here.”

Pauline flounced over to the dessert case. Without. Taking. Sassy’s. Order.

Something dark and angry blossomed in her belly. What was she, invisible? She wanted dessert, and she wanted it NOW.

Pauline spun back to their table and plunked a slice of frosted pink cake in front of Grim. The tantalizing scents of strawberries and sugar shot up Sassy’s nose and sandblasted her brain.

Grim thanked the waitress and fell upon the cake. Sassy eyeballed Grim’s dessert. The slab of cake was the size of an atlas. He wouldn’t mind if she had a teensy little taste. She reached across the table to snag a bit of the luscious icing with her pinkie.

Evan caught her in the act and slapped her hand away. “No, ma’am.”

Sassy flushed and sat back, mortified by her lack of manners. Sticking her fingers in another person’s food. What was the matter with her?

She forgot her embarrassment when Pauline set a bowl of banana pudding at Taryn’s place, enveloping Sassy in a cloud of deliciousness. The smell of the warm fruit, crumbly vanilla wafers, and toasted meringue teased her senses.

Taryn picked up her spoon and began to eat in small, precise bites.

Pauline slid a piece of buttermilk pie in front of Evan with a flourish. “Hotted it up special for you.”

The sugar crystals on top of the pie had caramelized to a lovely shade of brown. Bits of melted cream puddled on the saucer.

Evan sampled the thick, golden custard and moaned. “Man, that’s good.”

Sassy clenched her hands in her lap to keep from slapping the stew out of him. Well, of course it was good. It was pie.

Grim waved his fork at the good-looking older man in the booth. “Who is that man over there? He keeps nodding and smiling at us.”

Pauline glanced over her shoulder and made a face. “Amasa Collier. Got more money than sense. Runs around town waving a coat hanger. Calls it his ‘demon diviner.’ Man’s a fruitcake. That was his wife that left just now. Edmuntina Fairfax—Collier, now. Everybody calls her Muddy.” She tucked a stray hair into her bun. “Gotta see to my other customers. Can I get y’all anything else?”

Pauline looked around the

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