Page 8 of Twice Baked Risky Whiskey Cakes

“I didn’t realize your mother would be here tonight,” he says it low and slightly out of breath as he quickly scans the room for her.

“My husband is on the board for the event,” she tells him, but he’s still on the hunt for her mother.

The woman standing next to him gives a hard sigh and I offer her a commiserating smile.

“Lottie Lemon,” I say, extending my hand her way. “I own the bakery here in town and brought the baked goods this evening. Or at least some of them. Venus supplied her fair share, too.”

The woman stares at my hand for a moment before shaking it and I can’t help but note her fingers are ice-cold to the touch.

“Della Crane,” she says curtly as she nods to both Venus and me. “The desserts look fabulous. And as long as either of you didn’t use Sebastian’s whiskey in your products, then I’ll be sure to sample them.”

“Oh no, I didn’t do that,” I’m quick to say. “I mean, I used whiskey in a few of the recipes.” I turn to Sebastian and cringe. “I’m sure your whiskey is amazing. It’s just not what I had on hand.”

Sebastian offers a slight smile my way. “I’ll be sending an entire box of my whiskey to your bakery come morning.” His gaze shifts to Venus. “And a pallet to yours.”

An entire pallet to hers? I can’t help but stifle a laugh. Talk about preferential treatment. Clearly, Venus’ mother made a huge impression on the man.

“Did you hear that, Lot?” Carlotta straightens. “You’re getting a free case of the good stuff. I’ll be there bright and early to help you put it away.”

I shoot her a look because I know exactly what she means byput it away.

“Ah, the famous Lottie Lemon!” Sebastian clasps my hand. “Your whiskey-glazed donuts are the talk of the evening. I was hoping to meet you as well.”

“What about me, Hot Stuff?” Carlotta balks at the man. “I’m Lottie Dottie’s OG mama. I bet you were looking forward to meeting me, too! Saving the best and the hottest for last.”

Oh, good grief. More like saving the most psychotic for last. If he’s smart, he’ll have a restraining order on her by morning.

He offers a nervous laugh in response.

Carlotta schmoozes her way closer to the man. “And what would a big, important whiskey man like you want to waste your liquid gold on this preggo pinata? Send it my way, Hot Stuff, and I’ll make sure webothhave a good time.”

He belts out a belly laugh and it sounds genuine. Della rolls her eyes, and believe me, I’m trying hard not to do the same.

“Honey, I’ll be sure to send a box earmarked just for you as well,” he’s happy to tell her—and Carlotta is more than happy to hear it. “But as for the bakeries,” he gives a wistful sigh as he looks at Venus and me, “I’ll admit, my intentions are not all that pure. I’m hoping to discuss a business opportunity with the two of you.” He says the two of us even though he’s right back to being completely focused on Venus. “Sebastian’s Secret Reserve is thinking of launching a line of whiskey-infused foods. Cookies, cakes, chocolates—all with my premium spirits.”

“Interesting,” I say, mostly to remind him that I’m still here, although I don’t know why. Venus really seems to have cast a spell on him.

He nods to her as if she said it instead. “I’m a big believer in seizing opportunities,” Sebastian continues. “Life is too short for regrets. Tomorrow isn’t promised, especially at my age.”

A chill runs down my spine as he says it and it has nothing to do with the twins kicking away as if they were trying to swim away from a shark.

And while Sebastian is busy ogling Venus, I can’t help but notice the way Eliza is watching him from across the room. Her eyes are cold as she raises a glass in his direction—as if she’s giving him a toast or a warning, I can’t tell which.

Venus’ phone chimes with a text, and she glances down at the screen.

“Oh, it’s Sean. He needs help with the presentation setup. He’s going to give a toast and give a little history of the club. Please excuse me, ladies.” She squeezes my arm before leaning in close. “Don’t let my mother and Sebastian cross paths if you can help it. I don’t have a good feeling about this.” And with that cryptic warning, she vanishes into the crowd.

Della checks her watch and sighs. “I should get back to mingling. I’ve got three potential clients here tonight.” Her gaze drifts toward the dessert table. “After I sample some of those Irish cream brownies, of course. A girl has to have priorities.” She stalks off and her high heels click against the wood flooring like gunshots.

“Well, how about that?” Carlotta slides closer to Sebastian, batting her eyelashes with all the subtlety of a fog horn—an old weathered one at that. “How about you and I find a nice, dark corner and discuss the finer points of whiskey? I’ve been told I have an excellent kisser.” She offers a demonstration by way of puckering up. But thankfully, he doesn’t seem to be falling for it.

Sebastian winces her way. “I’ve no doubt about that, madam.”

“Hey! Who are you calling amadman?” Carlotta scoffs his way and holds up her dukes as if she were ready to introduce her fist tohiskisser.

“We should really let you get back to your admirers,” I tell him before cringing. “I mean, friends or clients.” I try to backtrack, but let’s call a spade a spade. I’m pretty sure I had it right the first time with admirers. “We should go,” I say, grabbing Carlotta’s arm before she can embarrass us further. Although, let’s be honest, everyone knows Carlotta will embarrass us well into the future—and quite possibly eternity. “The babies need sustenance, and those desserts aren’t going to eat themselves,” I say as I pat my belly.

Sebastian gives a rich laugh that seems to draw envious glances from the women all around us. “Enjoy your night,” he says. “I’ll be in touch about those whiskey-infused treats, Lottie.”

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