Page 40 of Twice Baked Risky Whiskey Cakes

And he just so happens to be hobbling through the crowded festival like a wounded leprechaun with not one but two tall gnarled wooden walking sticks of some sort propping him up. And next to him, looking far too pleased with himself is Noah.

By the looks of it, they haven’t spotted me yet.

“Here they come,” I mutter.

“Who are they?” Glinda squints in their direction. “Boy, they are a couple of lookers.”

“Those are Lot Lot’s stalkers,” Carlotta answers for me. “And as their Irish luck would have it, they’ve both been married to Lot Lot at one point or another. Lottie Dottie here may look tame, but she’s got some serious game—and far too many little yippies if you ask me.” She cups her hands around her mouth.“Well, well! Looks like Sexy decided bed rest was for lesser mortals. And he’s brought backup,” she teases. “Nothing says ‘I don’t trust my preggo wife’ like bringing along the ex-husband to help with surveillance.”

“I bet they tracked my phone,” I say, wagging the offending device their way. “I knew I should have left it at the bakery.”

“Rookie mistake.” Carlotta nods. “That’s why I leave mine with random men at bars. It keeps everyone guessing.”

Everett spots us as if on cue and his face cycles through an impressive range of emotions—relief, confusion, suspicion, and finally, that special brand of exasperation he seems to reserve just for me.

Noah, on the other hand, simply crosses his arms and nods with that “I knew it” look on his face that makes me want to pick up a sourdough roll and peg him with it.

Everett reaches us first, wincing with each step, but I’ll admit, he looks darn good doing it. Darn hormones. Okay, fine—hormones aside, judging by the women giving both Noah and Everett a second look, they both look too darn good for their Irish britches.

“Funny running into you here, Lemon.” Everett’s lips curve but as always, he’s far too stubborn to give a smile. “I thought you were spending the day at the bakery.”

“I had a change of plans,” I say as sweetly as I can. “Funny running into you as well, since you’re supposed to be horizontal and immobile. I guess bed rest isn’t so fun when you’re the one being forced to the confines of a mattress.”

He frowns as if he wants to acknowledge this but knows better.

“The doctor said light movement would help.” Everett is smooth with the half-truth.

Carlotta belts out a laugh. “Since when is navigating a busy, dizzy, redheaded love-fest light movement?”

Noah clears his throat as they close in on us. “The real question is, why my mother called in a panic saying you’d gone off to hunt a killer again.”

Both Carlotta and Glinda gasp at that one.

“Your mother has an overactive imagination,” I tell him. “That and she still has it out for Everett’s mother for seemingly stealing her man. Speaking of which, I was just stopping by to say hello to Eliza, that’s all.”

Everett’s chest rises and falls. Of course, both he and Noah realize that my hello to Eliza would have been followed up with an entire litany of questions, but that’s beside the point.

Everett’s eyes widen at the mention of her.

“My mother?” He inches back. “What would she be doing here?”

“Peddling sourdough,” Glinda says while offering both Noah and Everett a slice of fresh baked bread and the crock of butter to go along with it.

They’re no fools. Within three seconds both sides are buttered and they’re moaning in gratitude.

Glinda leans my way. “You don’t really think Eliza is a killer, do you?”

I openly glare at Noah for obvious reasons. Way to get the homicide rumor mill going. Not that Eliza didn’t do a good enough job on her own.

“No way,” I tell Glinda. “The woman is innocent as the day is long. I was actually going to hit her up for some old baby pictures of my husband. I’m putting together a scrapbook for the twins before they’re born. Just a little side project I’ve taken on with all my free time.”

Both Noah and Everett raise a brow my way.

Okay, so it’s a bald-faced lie—both the free time and the scrapbook. But the scrapbook is an idea I’ve been thinkingabout. The free time is more or less akin to mythology at this point.

Maybe when Keelie and I move into a nursing home together one day we’ll have a little time on our hands. Maybe.

Sebby materializes between Noah and Everett, waving his ghostly paws in an adorable manner. “She’s here! The whiskey woman is coming this way, and she hasmurderin her eyes!”

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