Waffles at the Wake (Murder in the Mix #29) - Addison Moore Page 0,1
right over Noah and me. Believe it or not, we’re still hobbling along in our own crazy way despite the fact I’m married to his old stepbrother.
“Lemon.” Judge Essex Everett Baxter, my official and legal plus one, wraps his arms around my waist from behind and lands a heated kiss to my cheek. Everett has almost always called me that, and there’s not an ounce of me that will protest his liberal use of my surname. Everett has a way of making it sound like the vampiest pet name ever and has me purring at the sound of it each and every time. “You look like a goddess in that dress. Never take it off.” He tucks his lips next to my ear. “Let me take it off.”
Noah grunts as he goes for a cookie, “I heard that.”
Everett is my husband, and per keeping with my own tradition, we sort of walked into our matrimonial knot backwards, too. He needed a wife in order to qualify for his trust fund and I took one for the fiscal team—while I was dating Noah. Suffice it to say, that didn’t go over well with my poor boyfriend, and shockingly, that wasn’t the end of us. But eventually, Noah and I decided to part ways so that I could see if Everett and I were going anywhere. It’s a long and sordid story, but that’s what brings us here.
As for Everett and me, we share a sixteen-year-old daughter that happened to pop into Everett’s life unexpectedly a few months back. Everly—Evie—Baxter’s mother is a birdbrain with a heart of coal, and since Evie and Everett want nothing to do with her, I’ve happily stepped into the role as her mother.
I reach down and hug my belly before giving Everett a covert nod letting him know I fully approve of those dress removal shenanigans he has planned for later. Not to mention the fact I’ll be needing his help to get out of this sheer lace and lavender satin number anyway. Everett bought this gorgeous dress for me, a formal maternity gown that must have set him back a fortune.
Lily Swanson lands the last platter of my sweet treats onto the dessert table before us. Her dark hair is swept up into a bun, and she’s wearing the requisite little black dress that this night practically demands. Lily is my right-hand gal down at the bakery. She was once one of my high school bullies, but now that I sign her paychecks, we seem to get along great.
She scoffs my way. “Lottie, your belly just shot out like a bullet overnight. Are you sure you’re not stuffing your dress with a pillow? I’ve never seen anyone pop like that.”
“It’s not a pillow,” Everett tells her. “I can testify to that.” His lips curve as he takes up my hand and half the women in the room sigh in his direction. “I’ve seen her without a stitch of clothing on to prove it.” His lips flicker and I can hear a low growl coming from behind—most likely from Noah.
Everett is caustically handsome, but tonight with his black suit, black tie, hair the color of the darkest midnight, and eyes that shine like the sea, he looks dangerously delicious. And I’m suddenly having a mad craving for one hot and more than naughty judge.
Not only is Everett stone-cold handsome, he’s slow to smile, has a body built for speed that most definitely meets all of my needs, and exudes a dangerous level of sexual appeal that demands the attention of every estrogen-bearing card member in a ten-state radius. There is something undeniably magnetic about him that commands the women in the room crane their necks in his direction at any given time.
“Lot Lot!” Carlotta Sawyer runs this way doing an odd little bow-legged hop as if she had a watermelon tucked between her knees, wearing a dress that’s far too short and far too glittery. “This is the best cake you’ve ever made.” She holds out a plate with a stack of waffles six high.
“Carlotta, that’s not a cake,” I’m quick to tell her.
“It’s a cake, Lot,” she insists while taking another bite. Both Carlotta and I share the same caramel-colored hair, hazel eyes, and the exact same name—Carlotta. We also share the same ability to see the dead. In fact, it was her wonky genetics that gave that quirky gift to me to begin with.
Carlotta is my biological mother. Almost three decades ago, Carlotta left