“Ah, yes.” His lips curve upright for a moment.
“Apparently, a man in demand such as yourself can’t have enough of those. Don’t give those to Lily.” It still makes me roll my eyes that she convinced him that giving a girl your cufflinks was the new class ring. Who knows what she’s doing with those cufflinks at night? If I were him, I wouldn’t want them back.
“Are you kidding? These are from you.” He lifts the box my way. “It works both ways, you know. I guess this makes us a thing.”
Noah groans, “You’re a thing, all right. Ever hear of the phrase three’s a crowd?”
“Oh, wait!” I say, pulling up the box that Everett came over this afternoon to wrap. I made him cocoa, and we sat by the fire talking about our favorite gifts we received as a child. Mine was a doll almost as tall as I was at the time, and his was a scooter on which he promptly broke his leg and decided to go somewhere safe like law school. “Let’s see what’s in here.” I give Everett a wink. “The girl equivalent of cufflinks?”
I unwrap the box and burst on into it—pulling up—“A cushion?” I say, trying to make heads or tails out of the pale blue—“Bed!” I shout as I hold it out and inspect it in a whole new light.
“That’s right. It’s a bed for Pancake. It’s terrifying to see that poor cat trying to balance himself on the armrest. This way he gets his own space. Everyone needs their own space. Isn’t that right, dude?” Everett scratches Pancake behind the ears, and I don’t know what’s funnier—the fact Pancake is purring like a jet engine or the fact Everett just called him dude.
“Speaking of space.” Noah stands next to me as a devious grin glides over his face as he stares down Everett. “Don’t you have a place of your own?”
“You’re subtle. I like that.” Everett glares at him a moment. “Merry Christmas.”
Noah reaches out and shakes his hand, and something about the action warms me. “Merry Christmas, Everett. Please extend the holiday greeting to your mother and sister tomorrow.”
“I will.” Everett heads to the door, and I walk him out as Noah tosses in a few extra logs into the fire. I step out onto the porch and offer Everett a firm embrace.
“Merry Christmas, Everett. I hope you find everything you want in that stocking of yours once you wake up.”
A soft chuckle bounces from him. “Same to you. Merry Christmas, Lemon.”
I give a quick glance over my shoulder. “There’s something I have to tell you,” I whisper. “She saw him tonight. Nell Sawyer saw Dutch with her own two eyes!”
“What?” he hisses, inspecting me as if I’ve lost my mind all over again.
“Yes. And she said she’s going to tell me everything once Christmas is behind us.”
“Lottie, this is great. It sounds as if you’re going to get the answers you’ve been looking for.”
“I know. I can’t believe it. This is really turning out to be the best Christmas ever.”
“That’s great.” He glances over my shoulder back into the brightly lit house. His lips purse, and he looks decidedly angry for a moment. “So, you and Noah, huh?”
“Oh, right”—I say awkwardly, hitching my thumb back at the living room—“we’re you know...”
“Finalizing plans.”
“Yes, that.” My cheeks burn with the heat of ten thousand suns.
“Tonight.” He nods stoically as if he’s coming to terms with something horrible.
“Yes, um. I guess, tonight.”
“You sure he’s the one?” Everett needles me with those cobalt blue eyes. He’s penetrating me right down to my soul as if he were trying to subliminally rouse me from a terrible dream.
“Yes.” I shake my head as I look to him. “Everett, are you trying to say something?” My heart jumps in my chest at the thought of what might come from his mouth next.
“No.” He swallows hard, and his eyes cast to the ground a moment. “But just so you know, you shook your head when you said yes. In a courtroom, I would have assumed you were lying.” He turns to leave, and Dutch bounds out of the house and follows Everett down the walk.
“Oh—it looks as if Dutch is following you home,” I shout after him.
“Can’t blame him.” Everett waves with a lift of his hand as he makes his way up the street. “He doesn’t want to stick around for the carnage. He’s welcome to spend the night.”
Noah reels me in as we seal ourselves back inside. “Who’s welcome to spend the night?” he asks as he dots my lips with a kiss.
“You.” I lift a shoulder as I reach past him to that bag Keelie gave me.
“What’s that?”
“Something from Keelie and me to you.” I wrinkle my nose as I mention my bestie during what’s about to be a very intimate moment.
“A gift to me from two women? This night only gets better.” His dimples dig in, and my stomach drops through the floor. I can’t believe I get this handsome man all to myself.
“You bet it does.” I pull it out and hold the frilly frock between us, and a dark laugh pumps from him.
“It is going to be a very Merry Christmas, Lottie Lemon. But first, I have something for you.” He pulls out a small navy box with a miniature red bow sitting on top of it.
“Noah! The only thing I have for you is, well, me.” I lift a shoulder with a coy smile. “I might have a T-shirt that says I belong to the baker, but it’s really for Ivy.” I smack my lips as if I were going to be sick at the mention of her name.
Noah bucks with a silent laugh as he hands me the box and I lift the lid, exposing a pair of diamond stud earrings.
He pulls my hand up and kisses it. “I thought they sparkled like your eyes.”
“Noah, it’s too much.”
“It’s not enough,” he says as I struggle to take my eyes off them.
“You’re enough.” I hike up on my tiptoes and crash my mouth to his, suddenly hungry for something that couldn’t be found on that buffet spread my mother had out tonight.
Noah and I amble our way back to the bedroom, our kisses growing in ferocity. I land the earrings down onto the kitchen counter as we pass it by, and my fingers rake open his shirt.
His eyes remain trained on mine as he gives a dark laugh. “Turnabout is fair play,” he says as he lifts my sweater right off.
“I don’t think I’m going to get a chance to wear this nightie,” I say, tossing it over my shoulder.
“It’s the thought that counts,” he says as he sweeps me off my feet and into his arms.
“Why do I get the feeling things are about to get a little wild and out of hand?”
A dirty smile glides over his lips. “Let’s just say I’m not a baker. When I frost cookies, things tend to get messy. And believe me when I say I plan to be highly creative with the endeavor.”
“How creative, detective?”
Noah belts out a laugh as he carries us into my bedroom, the bed already drawn in anticipation. You might say I was hopeful this afternoon. The battery-operated candles are flickering away—hey, a girl can’t burn her house down while she’s at her mother’s—and the scent of the cinnamon wreath hanging over my bed gives the air just the right amount of spice it needs on a night like tonight.
“Let’s just say Everett may have given Pancake something to purr about, but I’m about to make you sing.”
“Oh?” I can’t help but giggle. “Is this your way of saying your package is bigger than his?”
A dark laugh strums from him “There are some things you should find out for yourself.”
I swipe the Santa hat off my dresser that’s been a part of my uniform down at the bakery for the entire month of December.
I run my finger along Noah’s strong jawline and over his lips. “I sure hope Santa fills my stocking to the brim tonight.”
The idea of a dark laugh strums from him as he lands the hat over his head.
“Brace yourself, Cupcake. I’m about to frost your cookies.”
Noah shuts the door with his foot, a
nd we spend the rest of the evening conducting a very thorough investigation of everything we’ve ever wanted to know about one another—many, many times in a savory night.
Suffice it to say, this officially goes down as the best Christmas ever.
Acknowledgments
Thank you so very much for hanging out in the MURDER IN THE MIX world once again! Lottie and her friends are super thankful you decided to come along for the ride. It’s my pleasure to spend time in Honey Hollow, and I hope you feel the same!
Big thank you to Jodie Tarleton for taking the time to read the book. It is always a pleasure to work with you, girl! What more can I say? You’re amazing!
To the fabulous Kaila Eileen Turingan-Ramos. You are such a huge blessing. Thank you for taking the time to scour the pages. You’ve got vision that defies understanding.
Thank you to the sweet and kind Shay Rivera for taking the time out of your busy schedule to read this manuscript. It is so very much appreciated! You are a sweetheart! And I mean that with all of my might.
A gigantic thank you to the wonderful Lisa Markson. There is none like you, and we both know it.
The biggest shout-out to the woman with all the answers and the most amazing eyes, Paige Maroney Smith. I love you forever. I’m so glad we’re on this journey together!
And last, but never least, thank you to Him who sits on the throne. Worthy is the Lamb! Glory and honor and power are yours. I owe you everything.
Seven-Layer Slayer
Murder in the Mix Mystery #5
Addison Moore
Copyright © 2018 by Addison Moore
This novel is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to peoples either living or deceased is purely coincidental. Names, places, and characters are figments of the author’s imagination. The author holds all rights to this work. It is illegal to reproduce this novel without written expressed consent from the author herself.
All Rights Reserved.
This eBook is for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this eBook with another person, please purchase any additional copies for each reader. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Copyright © 2018 by Addison Moore
Created with Vellum
Book Description
My name is Lottie Lemon, and I see dead pets. On occasion I see a once upon a human, too, but mostly it’s just cute little furry beasts who have come back from the other side to warn me of their previous owner’s impending doom.
It’s January, and this month brings two special birthdays that the entire town is looking forward to celebrating: Eve Hollister and Nell Sawyer’s. Well, in truth, not many people are looking forward to celebrating Eve Hollister’s birthday. In fact, the way the people at her party are acting, you’d think she were the most hated woman on the planet. Add one ornery black bear who is well past his earthly prime, along with the Grim Reaper, and poor Eve’s birthday turns into a supernatural catastrophe. One thing is for sure—no one in Honey Hollow will ever be the same.
Lottie Lemon has a brand new bakery to tend to, a budding romance with perhaps one too many suitors, and she has the supernatural ability to see dead pets—which are always harbingers for ominous things to come. Throw in the occasional ghost of the human variety, a string of murders, and her insatiable thirst for justice, and you’ll have more chaos than you know what to do with.
Living in the small town of Honey Hollow can be murder.
Chapter 20
I see dead people.
Okay, so it’s very, very rare, but I do seem to see creatures of the furry dearly departed variety on the regular. And, believe you me, it is never a good sign to their previous owner. It is always a harbinger of terrible things to come. Up until a few months ago, the horror used to amount to nothing more than a scraped knee or a horrible tumble. But these days, it almost always amounts to death.
Just a few weeks ago, Tanner Redwood’s Golden Retriever, Dutch, bounded back into reality—my reality anyhow. Apparently, I’m the only one with vision that extends right into eternity. Wait—that’s not entirely true. I just recently discovered that my best friend’s Grammy Nell can see these fantastic phantasms, too. But anyhow, Dutch was the first creature that I not only saw but heard. He’s a beauty with long golden hair, wears a smile for most of the day, and loves to cuddle with my Himalayan cat, Pancake.
I’m pretty sure Pancake can’t see or hear him, but he definitely senses a disturbance in the force. It’s probably best Pancake, nor anyone else can see the majestic beast—aside from his transparent qualities, he has eyes that blaze like fire, and it’s really quite alarming. Aside from that, Dutch is the first furry phantasm that has not disappeared after his owner’s murder was solved. Strangely enough, he’s taken up firm residency in my living room.
“Lottie!” Mom waves to me, frantic as an entire herd of women stream into the oversized living room of the B&B. It’s not only the day that her historical book club meets up for the month, but it also happens to be the birthday of the founder, Eve Hollister. “Lottie, please make sure the dessert buffet is kept well replenished.” She jabs a finger to an elongated table near the entry of the room that I’ve laden with every sweet treat that the Cutie Pie Bakery and Cakery could muster. It’s especially laden down with Eve’s favorites, like the chocolate chip peanut butter swirl cookies, dark chocolate dreams, and rocky road brownies. Eve Hollister has had a sweet tooth for as long as I’ve known her.
“Will do!” I note the brownies are running low and head to the kitchen to replenish the supply.
I’m not halfway there before I come upon the birthday girl herself, Eve Hollister, and a couple of her guests. Eve is actually the same age as my mother, but she’s had a rough go of it, and unfortunately looks as if she could be my mother’s mother. In Eve’s defense, my mother has found the fountain of youth and is willing to deny its existence until her dying day.
Miranda Lemon looks like she could be in magazines with her shoulder-length butter yellow locks, her svelte physique—and the fact she is always overdressed for any and every occasion doesn’t hurt either. I’m convinced my mother came out of the womb looking impeccably put together.
In contrast, Eve looks like your stereotypical grandmother with short white hair, a hobble to her step, and wrinkles worn proud like a badge well earned. Both Eve and my mother lost their husbands around the same time many years ago. Eve hasn’t dated since, that I’m aware of, but my mother has more than made up for it for the both of them. Miranda Lemon has a steady rotation of men she likes to keep warm by her side. As of late, she’s dating an abhorrence of an individual, one that happened to be cheating on his ex-wife just a few months back—the same ex-wife who tried to poison him. Brad Rutherford has an insatiable appetite for both women and a wild time—clearly a double whammy of reasons why he should be nowhere near my mother, and I’d go as far as to say no one else’s mother either.
The two younger women standing with Eve appear to be locked in a heated argument with the poor frazzled woman, and on this her birthday. They have a familiar look, and I can’t quite put my finger on where I know them. One girl looks to be about my age but far more polished, with her chocolate brown hair slicked back into a bun, her pencil skirt and heels both something I would eschew. I’m more of a pony, jeans, and sweater girl myself. My cozy shearling boots are perfect for running around the bakery and making deliveries this frozen time of year.
January in Honey Hollow, Vermont rarely calls for stilettos, but you can’t tell my sister Lainey that or apparently this woman either. The other girl locked in the heated debate looks younger, with pleasant wide-set features that would appeal to any man, a shock of red lipstick, and sleek glossy hair dyed a jarring shade of silver.
The one with gray locks leans in—it’s an
ironic hair color, considering the fact she looks younger than I do at twenty-six. “You won’t get away with this forever.”
The brunette is quick to wave off the ingénue. “You know, ever since Daddy died, she’s been tighter than those shrunken jeans you’re wearing. You can’t teach an old horse new tricks.”
“It’s dog,” the younger one corrects.
“Woof woof,” Eve bleats with a laugh.
I try to boot scoot my way past them, and Eve’s eyes light up like that Christmas tree my mother still has lit up in the corner.
“Lottie Lemon!” she cries. “You remember my girls, Daphne and Brenda Lee?” She points to the uptight brunette and the angry gray-haired girl respectively.
“Oh my goodness,” I say, stunned as both girls glare back at me as if I’ve just let a noxious odor fly. Upon closer inspection, I do see traces of Eve in their features. Both are wildly attractive. The brunette, Daphne, has that nude makeup palate look going, and with her upscale skirt and navy silk blouse, she looks elegantly understated.
Brenda Lee has a boho chic vibe with a jacket that looks as if it was made out of a psychedelic quilt, and a sweater that looks as if someone ripped off the midsection, which would explain why it’s unraveling at the base—a purposeful look, I’m tragically sure—and let’s not forget the aforementioned shrunken jeans.
“Yes!” I try to match Eve’s enthusiasm, which only makes her daughter’s glower all the more in my direction. “I mean, I knew you had children.”
The Hollister kids are all about my age, but they were more or less what amounted to an urban legend here in Honey Hollow. We’re such a small, close-knit town, that it’s a miracle they managed to evade the entire state of Vermont for the duration of their childhood. The three of them—a rumored brother included—all went to boarding school in Switzerland. I believe Eve once mentioned a couple of them live in Ashford now. Too good for Honey Hollow, I suppose.
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