“A time or two?” Noah Fox’s voice carries from the counter where he’s mid-bite into what appears to be his third cinnamon roll of the morning. The homicide detective—Cooper’s colleague and Lottie’s most devoted admirer—gestures with his pastry, sending icing flying. “Try a dozen at least.”
“Thirteen and counting,” Judge Essex Everett Baxter—her official plus-one—corrects, his deep voice carrying the authority of a man who’s both sentenced criminals and judged baking competitions with equal conviction.
He sits beside Noah at the counter, immaculate in his tailored suit despite the early hour, with his dark hair perfectly styled, and cheekbones that should require a license to display in public. Lottie’s “main squeeze,” as the locals call him, has every woman in Honey Hollow sighing when he walks by.
“You’re keeping count?” Lottie arches an eyebrow at him.
“Someone has to maintain accurate court records.” Everett winks her way before taking a sip of his black coffee.
“Hear that, Lottie Dottie?” Carlotta chuckles as she sits next to Everett, hovering over a plate full of crullers. “You’re a veritable corpse magnet and everyone knows it. Heck, half the sheriff’s department thinks you’re running some kind of death cult out of the bakery basement.”
“We don’t have a basement,” Lottie points out.
“Details, details.” Carlotta waves dismissively at the thought.
Fun fact: Despite being Lottie’s biological mother, who abandoned her as an infant, Carlotta has somehow wheedled her way into both Lottie’s homeandbusiness.
“Remember when they found that guy stuffed in the dumpster behind the bakery?” Noah reminisces, a dreamy look crossing his face that would be disturbing if I didn’t understand the weird nostalgia crime inspires in law enforcement. “That was one of our first cases together.”
“Nothing says romance like shared garbage corpses,” I mutter.
“Or that Halloween festival double homicide,” Everett adds.
“The Valentine’s Day poisoning,” Noah counters.
“The Easter egg hunt strangling,” Carlotta contributes with glee.
“The Fourth of July—” Everett begins.
“Okay!” Lottie interrupts, a little too loud. “I get it. I attract trouble.”
“Like honey attracts bears,” Noah says with undisguised admiration, his eyes tracking Lottie’s every movement as she wipes down the already spotless counter.
“Speaking of trouble…” Lottie turns to me with a raised brow. “How are you holding up after last night’s fiasco? I can’t believe you were front and center again when it happened. That’s twice in one week! Not even I have managed to do that feat.”
I’ll admit, she does look rather impressed.
All eyes swivel my way and I resist the urge to duck behind the display case.
“I’m fine,” I lie, as if I didn’t spend half the night staring at my ceiling wondering if I’d somehow perfected my assassination skills to include telepathy. “Just another day in the life of Effie Canelli, a reluctant hitwoman and apparent death magnet.”
They all share a dull laugh despite the fact I meagerly outed myself. Of course, they don’t think I’m being one bit serious.
“Did Cooper say anything about how the old coot bit the dust?” Carlotta probes with the subtlety of a sledgehammer.
Noah shifts uncomfortably on his stool. “It’s an ongoing investigation.”
“Which means they don’t know anything yet,” Everett translates while adjusting his silk tie. And boy, does that shade of navy bring out the bad boy in his eyes.
“Or they know and they’re not telling,” Carlotta suggests while shoving another cruller into her pie hole and I’m tempted to do the same. Lottie’s chocolate on chocolate crullers really are the best thing ever.
Dreamy sigh.
“Since we have the lead homicide detective right here”—Lottie says, sliding a fresh cup of coffee toward Noah with a smile that would make stronger men confess to crimes they didn’t commit— “maybe you could share a tiny tidbit of information? You know, just between friends?”
Noah melts under Lottie’s attention like butter on a hot pan. “Well...”
“Noah,” Everett warns and the threat in his voice manages to evoke another dreamy sigh from me.
