didn’t kill you. And I happen to know you came back to Honey Hollow for the reading of Nell’s will. Although I’d like to think I had a little something to do with it.”
“No, but you had plenty to do with why I was missing all those years. As it turns out, you were nothing to be afraid of. If I knew I could have all the dessert I wanted for free, I’d a come back sooner. And let’s face it, Harry’s freaky side is the glue that keeps my feet stuck to that one-horse town.”
“Nice to know,” I say, making rosettes of a variety of Italian lunchmeats and swiping them through the ranch dip before shoving it all into my mouth. A hard groan comes from me. “You know, this wouldn’t taste bad in a cruller,” I say through a mouthful.
One of those dancing damsels clad in shiny rose fabric shimmies up to our table, and both Noah and Everett cease their conversation and observe her for a moment. She’s a redhead with deep-set dimples. And in each of those dimples she has a small silver piercing tucked inside, making them that much more pronounced.
“Oh, I see how it is,” I snip. “You can’t tear yourselves away from your conversation about retractable sprinkler heads when I’m giving my soliloquy on the finer points of Italian deli meats, but once Ms. Glitz and Glamour shows up, it’s all eyes on her.” Mostly that’s my hormones talking. I’m not insecure in my relationship with either of these men, but I guess I’m not only hungry for Italian lunchmeats tonight, I’m starved for their attention.
Everett frowns my way before his lips twitch with a benevolent smile.
“I like this side of you, Lemon.”
“Hear that, Lot?” Noah hikes his brows. “He likes you jealous. What does that say about his character?”
“Hold your horses, boys.” Carlotta rubs her fingers together toward the two of them as if asking for some cold, hard cash, and Everett quickly drops a twenty-dollar bill into her hand. “Take this, honey.” Carlotta hands the cash to the dimpled dancer. “Stay away from our table and keep the rest of the glossy girls away, too.”
“With these lookers”—the woman blows both Noah and Everett a kiss while shoving the bill between her breasts—“I can’t make any promises. My name is Jewel, if you’re interested.” She bops off to the next table, shaking her belly as if it was on a swivel.
Carlotta leans my way. “Someone had to give her the boot. She was cramping my style. I’ve already made eye contact with three different men. Two want to take me back to their place, and one wants to have a meet and greet in the men’s room.”
“What?” I squawk. “Carlotta, you are insane. You’ve been with me the entire time. Nobody has propositioned you.”
“You’d be surprised how much you can learn from just a look, Lot. You, of all people, should know that. But you’re stuck in a box with Sexy all day and not in a good way. What’s the case about, anyway?”
“A woman stabbed her boyfriend to death.”
“Lemon.” Everett straightens in his seat a moment. “You’re under oath not to talk about the proceedings.”
Noah shrugs. “Then kick her off the case.” He winks my way, and I bite down a smile.
“Sometimes, Noah Corbin Fox, you are a genius.” I blow a kiss his way to reward him.
“No,” Everett says it curtly. “I’m not kicking you off the jury. I’m aware people do bring up the case at home without meaning to. But it was a momentary lapse. I’m sure it won’t happen again.”
“And if you keep talking, Lot”—Carlotta snaps up a fried pickle spear—“he’s going to find a creative way to silence you.” She shoves the pickle into her mouth and gives it a crunch that makes both Noah and Everett wince.
“Don’t worry, Everett,” I tell him. “It’s not like Carlotta or Noah is going to ruin the case.”
Carlotta pats my arm. “Not when we got Lot here doing it for us. So is the woman guilty, or what?”
“I think so,” I say, snapping up a fried pickle spear myself.
“Lemon?” Everett looks incensed and yet slightly amused—just slightly. “You were instructed not to form an opinion until you have all of the evidence. I’d hold onto your judgment until the end, and I wouldn’t share it with anyone. We should most definitely change the subject.”
“Sorry.” My shoulders bounce. “But it’s not like I’m a professional juror.”
“That’s the whole point, Lot.”