Page 56 of Twice Baked Risky Whiskey Cakes

“Tomorrow is St. Patrick’s Day,” Noah acknowledges. “But orange beards aside”—he tugs at his synthetic facial hair—“I doubt there will be any free beer, green or otherwise.”

Carlotta grunts, “Way to be a downer, Foxy. Just so you know, I happen to have a little sneak peek into a surprise that Harry is planning for all of Honey Hollow.”

“What kind of surprise?” I ask, instantly suspicious. Not that I have any reason to be suspicious of Mayor Nash, aka my biological father. But then, whenever he and Carlotta colluded in private before, it produced two children via an extramarital affair.

“What kind of surprise?” Carlotta crows my way. “The surprising kind, Lot. You’ll have to find out tomorrow like everyone else. I’ll give you a hint—the parade ends at Honey Lake.”

Everett frowns her way. “That’s not a hint, that’s a geographical fact.”

Carlotta offers an unrepentant shrug. “Geography can be almost as sexy as you.”

We finish up our meals before Everett antes up his credit card, and we head for the geographical area known as the parking lot.

“I sure hope things look up for the case soon,” I say as Noah and Carlotta walk well ahead of Everett and me.

He wraps his arm around my waist as best he can and lands a kiss on my cheek.

“I’d say the night is getting better already,” he says, tugging at his orange beard and I laugh.

“After that meal? How could this night possibly improve from here?” I tease.

He ticks his head to the side. “I was thinking once we get home, I could help you out of these clothes and into something a little more comfortable.”

“Judge Baxter.” I gasp and laugh. “Are you suggesting I need help undressing?” It’s basically true, but I want to hear the saucy things he has to say.

“I’m suggesting”—he says with a twitch of his lips that still makes my heart race—“that I have very specific motions I’d like to file when we get home.”

“Planning to present evidence in my chambers?” I bite down on a smile as I do my best to match his legal innuendo.

“If it pleases the court. And it is my sole purpose to please the court.” He leans down and brushes his lips to my ear. “Let’s just say, I’m prepared to work late into the night on this particular case.”

“Well then”—I smile up at him—“I think the court is ready to hear your opening arguments.”

“Prepare to be stunned.” He stops next to my minivan. “However, the beard is definitely not invited to the proceedings.”

“Objection sustained,” I say, plucking the orange menace from my face. “The prosecution is ready when you are.”

Between abandoned wives, emptied bank accounts, and enough secrets to fill one of my triple layer cakes, someone in our cozy little town decided Sebastian Gallagher needed permanent retirement.

And tomorrow, mixed in with all those green beers and fake orange beards, my killer-finding radar tells me we’ll be rubbing elbows with someone who stabbed their way to a solution.

If the twins kicking my ribs are any indication, they’ve got a hunch about who it might be, too.

If only they’d give me a clue.

LOTTIE

It’s St. Patrick’s Day and Honey Hollow’s most festive parade of the year is well underway.

Main Street has transformed into a river of green, flowing with more shamrocks, leprechauns, and questionable Irish accents than the entirety of Dublin on its most celebratory day.

The air vibrates with bagpipes wailing alongside fiddles, punctuated by periodic roars from the crowd as particularly impressive floats pass by.

Everywhere I look, emerald top hats bob above a sea of orange beards—a mandatory fashion statement in Honey Hollow this time of year. And to be honest, I’m going to miss them. They’re as cheery as they are itchy.

The scent of my green-frosted cinnamon rolls wafts from the tables set up just outside my bakery like a sugar sweet siren call, hypnotizing otherwise sensible citizens into lining up three-deep for a bite.

“We’ve already sold out twice, and it’s not even noon,” Lily shouts as she and Effie do their best to meet the demands of the dessert-hungry crowd.

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