Spooky Spice Cake Curse

by Addison Moore

  Carlotta shakes her head. “It never gets old, does it, Lot?”

  “No, it doesn’t.” Not with either of them. But I’m not saying that out loud.

  Everett’s rippled chest is quickly glossed with the rain, and the swooning and the cooing hits feverish heights.

  He picks up a rather large pumpkin off the ground and hurls it so far into the sky it looks like a glowing orange star before it comes barreling back to Earth. The spinning gourd smashes to the ground before detonating like the pumpkin projectile it is.

  And if I’m not mistaken, it’s landed right on top of Noah’s smashed and trashed mess. Huh. What are the odds?

  “See that, Lot?” Carlotta calls out over the driving rain. “Mr. Sexy wasn’t just shooting for the W, he was looking to squash the competition.” She elbows me as she looks to Duke, dancing and barking in the rain as if the precipitation was having a real effect on him. “And that’s exactly what that bad boy is doing to Harry—squashing the competition. Here’s hoping that Ichabod Hearst’s killer roams free forever.” She takes a step forward and cups her hands. “Come on, boy! That candy corn isn’t going to eat itself.”

  Duke charges in this direction with his eyes ablaze, and the two of them take off as I head over to a very shirtless Noah and Everett.

  “Well done,” I shout up over the storm as the two of them step my way with their well-defined chests slicked with rain.

  Noah nods. “My eyes are up here, sweetheart.”

  Everett growls, “She was looking at me.”

  “You can’t put it away for a minute, can you?” Noah scoffs over at him.

  “Lemon likes it when I keep it out.”

  “All right,” I shout in a panic. “You were both great,” I say, taking up their hands, and we make a run for it. Evie meets me at the van, and we all head home to dry off by a cozy fire.

  Noah picks up a pizza, and we all gather together in my living room. I tell Noah and Everett about my run-in with Fester—about that odd conversation that involved the transmundane.

  We ponder what it could mean, who the killer might be, and all the while that thunderstorm rattles Honey Hollow to its core like a skeleton in a graveyard.

  It’s panning out to be one frightening October. And I have a feeling it’s going to be one hell of a Halloween.

  A killer.

  A curse.

  And a mystery that involves my own kind, the transmundane.

  So many mysteries, and I plan on getting to the bottom of them all.

  Chapter 13

  All morning and well into the afternoon, Everett has been shamelessly flirting with me via text. There’s been a lengthy pause between the last steamy message, but I figure the good judge has to do his civic duty at some point in the day. And each heated sentiment has made my day here at the bakery seem to fly right by despite the fact it’s been one of the busiest on record.

  The Cutie Pie Bakery and Cakery has been bustling all afternoon, and for once it has nothing to do with that morbid tour my mother sends this way. It has to do with adorable little children—preschoolers mostly, who are taking part in the trick-or-treat along Main Street event in which these darling little angels parading around as ghosts and goblins, and every superhero and princess known to man, trek from business to business as they fill their plastic pumpkins and their tummies. The cuteness won’t end today either. Each day until Halloween an entire fleet of elementary students will be shuttled through. Kindergarten through third comes in tomorrow, then fourth through sixth and so on until the spookiest day of the year is upon us.

  In honor of the event, Meg, Lily, and Carlotta helped me put up some more orange twinkle lights along the counters, and the doors and windows, too. We added a flurry of auburn-colored fall leaves to the mix, and it all looks so very homey. A part of me wishes fall would last six months, and the Christmas season would last the other six.

  I can’t help but tear up as the last batch of these adorable preschoolers march through my bakery, and Lily and I hand each and every one of them a pumpkin-shaped sugar cookie with orange sprinkles.

  Lily sighs as they stride right through to the Honey Pot Diner next door, where Meg and Keelie have a bucket of candy for them ready and waiting.

  “I can’t believe someone is just going to up and give you one of those pint-sized terrors.” Lily rolls her eyes as she takes a bite out of a sugar cookie. “I mean, you need a license to catch a fish, hunt a deer, bear, and most birds. This is a whole kid we’re talking about, Lottie.”

  “Well, I’m not hunting it, I’m having it. Besides, did you see all those mothers? They looked young and hip—mostly sane, not to mention they fit right back in their jeans. Which is a lot more than I can say about anything in my wardrobe. I’m about ready to break out one of those kaftans Georgie sent me.” I nod to Carlotta when I say it because it just so happens that Georgie Conner is one of her best friends.

  “I sure miss Gray.” Carlotta gives a wistful tick of the head at the thought of her fun-loving bestie. Georgie lives out in Cider Cove along with my transmundane bestie, Bizzy Baker. “Forget your blue jean dreams, Lot. Go on and get your sugar rolls going. Mr. Sexy won’t mind. There will just be more of you to love. And who knows? Maybe he’ll pass some of you around to Noah after all.”

  “Don’t you start,” I say.

  Lily snaps up a cookie. “You won’t be alone, Lottie. I’m going to join you in the muumuu brigade. It turns out, the Hearst curse has struck again, and as luck would have it, I’m an emotional eater.”

  “The curse struck again?” My ears pique with both horror and curiosity.

  She nods. “The local post office had bags of mail fall out of a delivery truck and tumble down a ravine this morning blowing letters every which way. The postal carrier tried to gather them all and she broke her leg.” She takes an aggressive bite out of her cookie.

  Carlotta moans, “I knew it. It’s coming after all of us. And I know I’ve said it before, but soon the only thing left standing will be that old haunted Hearst house. I bet they disturbed an entire flurry of irate spirits when they went opening that old place up again.”

  “Carlotta”—I plead—“stop saying that. Someone is prone to believe you.”

  “I believe her.” Lily is quick to convert to Carlotta’s haunted religion.

  “Lot believes me, too,” Carlotta insists. “She’s just too uptight to admit it.”

  I raise a brow her way.

  Lily chuckles. “If she was any looser, the bakery would double as a brothel, and she would already have six or seven kids by both Noah and Everett.”

  Carlotta ticks her head to the side. “Give her time. She’ll get there. My Lot Lot is a lot of things, but she’s no quitter.” She looks to me. “Are brothels legal in Vermont?”

  “No,” I snip.

  Lily holds up a finger. “Actually, I think they’re working to decriminalize prostitution.”

  “The answer is still no,” I say as I turn to Carlotta. “And what does this have to do with Noah and Everett, anyway? Nobody is paying me to sleep with them.”

  Carlotta huffs, “That’s where you went wrong.” She glances to Lily. “She wants to open a brothel, and yet doesn’t even know how it works. The next thing you know, she’ll be giving away her desserts for free.” She snaps her fingers at the Danishes. “Raspberry, please.” And Lily is quick to comply.

  My phone buzzes once again, and I glance down.

  Lily leans in. “Did Essex send another sexy text?”

  “Yeah, Lot.” Carlotta leans in herself. “What body part is he threatening you with this time?”

  Earlier, I made the mistake of leaving my phone unattended, and Carlotta got ahold of it and read all of those racy texts to anyone who would listen. Suffice it to say, the Silver Slippers Society will be thinking twice before holding another meeting at my bakery.

  I look to my phone once again. “It’s a text from Noah this time,” I say just as the bell chimes and in walks the a
forementioned sexy judge.

  Everett strides forth, and a few of the straggling mothers wag their tongue in his direction. It’s completely understandable, what with his dark suit, that silver tie that brings out the danger in his eyes, and that I’m-about-to-teach-you-a-lesson look on his blessed by God face.

  “Lemon.” He makes his way over, and I meet him halfway as he glides his arms around my waist. “You look stunning,” he says as he lands a delicious kiss to my lips.

  I pull back, biting down a smile. “And you look inviting, Judge Baxter. Are you here to invite me back to your chambers? I don’t believe we ever finished that session the other day.”

  A moan rumbles from deep within him. “The one in which you donned my robe?”

  “And not a stitch more.”

  Carlotta hoots like a bird in the wild. “That’s my Lottie Dottie, providing private entertainment to one civil servant at a time. Don’t keep us in suspense, Lot. What did Foxy say to you?”

  Everett shoots a curious look her way.

  “That’s right, Judge Baxter,” Carlotta chides him. “You’re not the only one who’s been shooting tawdry texts to this preggo Pop Tart all day. You’ve got some stiff competition on the literary front. Stiff competition.”

  I frown over at Carlotta. “Don’t listen to her, Everett. Noah just texted a minute ago. And I haven’t even read it. I bet it has something to do with the case.” I pull my phone out and read it out loud. “‘Lot, will you be my date for the homecoming dance tomorrow night? Cokie asked me to provide security for the event, seeing that there’s a madman on the loose.’” I hold it out to Everett as if to say it was harmless. “Did he say homecoming dance?” I pull the phone back to examine it once again.

  “I heard date.” Lily winks my way before taking care of a group of customers who just waltzed in.

  Carlotta grunts, “I heard stiff.”

  Everett nods. “I heard date, too. But—Carlotta’s interpretation is likely the most accurate.” He looks as annoyed with Noah as I am with Carlotta. “Don’t worry, Lemon. I want you to go.”

  “You do?”

  He nods. “And if you’re there”—he steals another kiss off my lips—“I’ll be there, too.”

  “Evie is going to chop our heads off in our sleep.”

  “Not if she doesn’t notice the fact we’re roaming the grounds.” His brows bounce. “Nevertheless, I’ve got a surprise for you tonight that Noah doesn’t know anything about.”

  Carlotta chuckles. “Nobody puts Sexy in a corner.”

  I pull Everett close lest he gets sucked into the vortex that is Carlotta’s twisted brain.

  “Does it involve the big homecoming game? Evie is cheering.” I make a face. “And she threatened to put Honey Hollow on the homicidal map if she sees us in the stands.”

  Carlotta balks, “Has she met you?”

  Everett pumps with a dry laugh because Honey Hollow is very much already on the homicidal map, and I might be a blip on the screen, too.

  His brows furrow. “Evie threatened to blow up the courthouse when I brought it up. Does this behavior bother you?”

  “Not really.” I shrink a little. “I was the same way with my parents—only I followed through with my threats, and most of them involved a boy named Bear.”

  He grunts. “At least you only had the one boyfriend. Evie’s got two.”

  “Now, now, Sexy. Don’t disparage her.” Carlotta wags an orange cruller at him. “She’s making up for lost time.”

  Everett raises a brow my way. “Anyone ever tell you, you’re an overachiever?”

  “Ignore her.” I offer up a dreamy smile to my dreamy husband. “What’s on the agenda tonight? Please tell me it involves that spa bathtub of yours. Evie won’t be home until late. I swear she won’t catch us.” A few weeks back she made no secret of the fact she never wanted to hear me giggling from the depths of Everett’s bedroom again. She said she’s been suffering from PTSD because of it ever since—Parental Tawdry Sexual Deviance. At least she’s original.

  His lips flicker. “No, but we could make it work later in the evening. First thing’s first, we’re heading to dinner at a very interesting establishment.”

  “Please tell me this interesting establishment is anywhere but south of us.”

  He gives a knowing nod. “We’re headed to Leeds.”

  Carlotta hops right out of her seat and cinches her purse to her shoulder. “Banana hammock shenanigans, here we come. We’re headed to Leeds.”

  I make a face.

  Nothing good ever happens in Leeds.

  Everett bounces his brows as if he knows what I’m thinking and he was about to contest that idea.

  Let’s hope he is.

  “I’ll go anywhere with you, Everett, including Leeds, but when I get back to Honey Hollow, I’m going to need to bathe twice as long just to rectify whatever Leeds is about to throw our way—to rectify the night.”

  A dark laugh strums through his chest, no smile.

  “Cupcake, when we get back to Honey Hollow, I’ll make sure to rectify the night for you.”

  “Well then,” I say. “Leeds is suddenly my new favorite place to be.”

  It turns out, the venue in question is called the Midnight Mash. But since it’s October, they’ve covered the word Midnight and put a neon sign over it that reads Monster instead—thus the Monster Mash.

  Carlotta does an odd little tap dance around Duke, her ever-present companion.

  “Wait a minute—it says no costume, no entry.” She lets out an egregious moan. “I guess we’d better hightail it to Red Satin. Meg is there tonight. She told me so herself. I bet she can rustle up a naughty nightie or two for Lot Lot and me.” She gives Everett a once-over. “You just take off your shirt, Mr. Sexy. That will give you an all-access pass to just about anywhere.”

  “I won’t have to.” He nods to a bin next to the door with a sign on it that reads No costume? No problem. Rent one on the cheap! “I’m buying.”

  We head over to the tub filled with odds and ends that can loosely qualify as a costume.

  Duke evicts a raucous bark from his throat and his fur lights up a strange shade of turquoise.

  “I want the bone.” He commands to Carlotta, and she’s quick to comply.

  Everett fishes out a pair of pink bunny ears.

  “What do you think of these, Lemon?”

  “I think I’m good to go,” I say as I press them over my head.

  Carlotta observes me for a moment. “I’m guessing the preggo pictorial will be taking place later. I’d disable the cloud if I were you, Lot. Pictures like that have a way of coming back to haunt you. But while you have the cameras out, try to get a money shot from Mr. Sexy and shoot it my way. I know a coven of soccer moms who would pay top dollar to have that as their screensaver. And I could use a little extra dough this time of year.” Carlotta pulls forth a pair of sequin devil horns and a tail to match. “Now I’m set for a devilishly good time,” she chirps before turning to her spiritual plus one. “And look at this, Stud Muffin! I have a tail just like you.”

  My chest pumps with a dry laugh. “And yet your tail is oddly suited to your personality.” I look up at the man I love. “How about you, Stud Muffin? Is the shirt coming off?”

  He pulls out a pair of dark sunglasses from the inside of his suit jacket and puts them on.

  “Secret Service.” He pulls me in close and twitches a dangerous smile.

  Carlotta chuckles. “More like FBI, female body inspector.”

  “Ooh.” I wiggle my shoulders. “That is so fitting. I’ll give you something to inspect a little later—picture optional.”

  His lips curve with devilish intent. “I’m saving my money shot just for you.”

  Everett antes up at the register for our knick-knacks and we enter a virtual cornucopia of werewolves, vampires, vamped-up girls in microscopic dresses, and amped-up men looking ready to take a bite out of said girls.

  “So it’s a nightclub,”
I say, taking a look around at the live band singing cover songs in the back of the room while an entire throng of monsters move and groove on the congested dance floor. There are tall tables that outline the periphery and the scent of fresh grilled steak and French fries enlivens my senses. “Oh, that steak is calling my name.”

  “Consider it yours,” he says as the three of us are quickly seated.

  We put in our orders, three steak specials, rare all around, and I ask for a side of vanilla ice cream to go with it.

  Carlotta makes a face at me as soon as the waitress takes off. “Ice cream, Lot? It’s clear the Lemons let you run amok. None of that would have flown under my roof. You would be dipping your fries in malt vinegar like God intended.”

  “Good idea. I’ll ask for some when the waitress comes back. That’ll go great with my ice cream. In fact, I’d better get another scoop,” I say, scooting my chair a notch closer to Everett as the women of this establishment become acutely aware of his rather shocking presence. Knew it. There’s not a werewolf or sparkly vampire in sight who can compete with the sheer sex appeal this man exudes.

  Duke howls as that turquoise aura of his quickly grows purple, and I pick up Everett’s hand in the event the spooky pooch has something to say.

  “I smell the scent of the man I hate.” Duke barks.

  Everett sighs. “I take it Noah is here.”

  Carlotta gasps at the shadow suddenly darkening our table. “Harry!”

  We look up just as Mayor Nash, aka my bio daddy, pulls up a seat. He’s dressed as a clown, complete with a rainbow wig, jumpsuit with the requisite polka dots, red squishy ball on his nose, and large floppy shoes. And he’s smiling ear-to-ear despite the fact Carlotta looks horrified to see him.

  “Did you follow me here, Harry Scary?” she snips his way.

  “Call me Chuckles.” He rubs his nose to hers. “And I plan on making you giggle like a schoolgirl all night long.”

  Good Lord.

  “I explicitly told you I was having a date night with Duke,” Carlotta barks. “Sharing is caring. And if you don’t remember, he will dismember.”