Waffles at the Wake (Murder in the Mix #29) - Addison Moore Page 0,7
get arrested, and I will move heaven and the Ashford County Courthouse to make sure any legal issues go away on my end.” He takes a moment to shoot Everett a look. “I would never make the mother of my child suffer.”
Everett casts those blue eyes my way. “Lemon, I promise you won’t suffer.”
“I’m already suffering. I’m so angry with whoever did the crime for dragging me to court—away from my bakery, away from my fried pickles, I’m going to make sure they get locked up for good.” I flare my nostrils over at Everett. And yes, the fried pickles have sort of become my go-to treat. I’ve craved them so much, I actually sell them at my bakery now. “And you had better make sure they throw away the key.” I give his tie a light tug. “On the bright side, at least we can commute together.”
He cinches his cheek to one side. “Actually, I’m betting you’ll get dismissed within the hour. And my schedule on Monday has me locked to my bench until evening. You’ll probably want to drive on your own so you can head back home early.”
Noah frowns over at his old stepbrother. “Go ahead and drive in with the stubborn oaf, Lottie. When they dismiss you, give me a call and I’ll pick you up. I’ll take you out for a celebratory lunch afterwards, too.”
“Now that sounds like a good time,” I tell him. “I feel better already. Besides, I hate the thought of driving all the way to Ashford in the snow.”
Evie, the daughter Everett and I share, runs up looking more twenty-one than she ever does sixteen. Her long dark hair sits in rows of neat coils, and her cobalt blue eyes are replicas of her daddy’s.
“Just a heads-up, Dad and Uncle Noah,” she rolls her eyes only the way a teenager can, “my friends think you guys are hot.” She sticks her finger down her throat and gags. “They want to, like, dance with you. Make it fast and don’t do anything goofy. This is going on, like, twelve different social media sites. And don’t worry, Mom. I let them know these guys both belong to you. There won’t be any funny business.” She takes them by the hand and whisks them off despite their protests.
A tiny giggle bounces from me. At least her friends have good taste in men.
Speaking of men, I spot Angel Face Flo off to the right, speaking with a man with dirty blond hair, built like a wrestler, looking lean and mean in a navy pinstripe suit.
Flo looks pretty animated as she gives him a shove to the chest before stalking off. She doesn’t get too far without bumping into that other man she looked horrified to see earlier this evening—the one Lorena told her wouldn’t be able to hurt her tonight, and I’m tempted to go into protective mode.
The two of them get right into it, behaving as if they’re about to rip one another’s heads off, and it looks downright explosive. A part of me wants to find her friends, Lorena and Donata, so they can help defuse the situation. And yet another part of me is wishing I had brought Ethel along for the ride tonight.
Ethel is the sleek Glock handgun that Noah and Everett chipped in to buy me a while back. I had become involved in so many homicide cases—accidentally, of course—they felt I needed the protection. But on a night like tonight, when I knew that I’d have both men by my side, not to mention not a single homicide investigation in sight, I didn’t see the need.
Flo is still raging on, and I scan the room and quickly find both Lorena and Donata not too far off from the unhappy couple, and if I’m not mistaken, both women seem to be giggling at the sight. So much for helping a girl out.
Flo slaps the man silly and stalks right over to her friends before the three of them start to go at it. We’re talking full tilt arguing, finger-pointing, eyes bulging, and bodies shaking with anger.
Wow. Flo sure has a lot of energy. I would have been wiped out after that first go-round. I’m not too much of a fighter. I’m much more of a lover, as evidenced by the sugar cookie growing in my belly.
Everett strides up with his tie askew, and I straighten it for him with a laugh.