Page 2 of Twice Baked Risky Whiskey Cakes

One day, I’ll walk out of here.

And when I do?

They’ll pay. Every last filthy debt.

Justice might wear a blindfold.

But I don’t.

LOTTIE

PRESENT DAY…

“Lemon, bed rest was the doctor’s orders. I really think you should adhere to that until the babies arrive.”

I take a defiant bite of my shamrock-shaped shortbread cookie, letting the buttery crumbs fall where they may—which, given the size of my belly, means straight onto what used to be my lap.

Tonight, the Honey Hollow Community Center has been transformed all around us from its usual bingo-hall blandness into a glittering emerald wonderland.

Green streamers twist overhead, weaving between newly installed crystal chandeliers that reflect tiny rainbows across every surface. The dark hardwood floors gleam as does the green glittery décor strewn across all of the tables which happen to be dressed in white linen. The renovation committee really outdid themselves—it’s less community center, more country club now.

The lighting is low, the Irish-inspired music is loud, and the scent of my sugar sweet treats permeates the air with just the right amount of deliciousness.

“And I did adhere to bed rest,” I say a touch too loud over the music so Everett can hear me.

Essex Everett Baxter is one heck of a looker—dark hair, bright blue eyes, a body that can stop a bullet, and it’s near impossible to garner a smile from him. At any given time, there are at least ten women craning their necks to get a better look at him. And well, women have been known to drop to their knees in adoration of him in public establishments.

He was a playboy before he met me and now, I’m the only star in his sky. I know that for a fact because he just so happened to say those very words to me last night. Everett always knows the exact words to say to melt me.

I nod his way. “In fact, I was on bed rest for three whole days just the way that Dr. Barnette insisted. But it happens to be dayfourand I have an event to cater. And before you go there, yes, I do have a staff and they’re all here in force, but I kind of wanted to get in on the redheaded fun, too.” I nod around at the room full of crimson glory as if affirming my decision.

The Redhead Roundup: An Auburn Affair is in full swing this evening. They meet up once a year around St. Patrick’s Day, and this time they’ve chosen our cozy little town of Honey Hollow, Vermont, to kick off their festivities.

The bustling convention has taken over the community center, and not only is there an abundance of redheaded beauties and cuties, but by the looks of the green beer and sea of green accoutrements, St. Patrick’s Day is being celebrated a little early as well.

Mayor Nash has already invited them all to participate in the big St. Patrick’s Day parade coming up in just under a week’s time, and I can’t wait for that, too, because it just so happens to take place right in front of my bakery.

Honey Hollow never misses a chance for a parade—we once held one when a woman’s sourdough starter survived for a year. In our defense, it produced really good sourdough that not evenI could compete with. My stomach rumbles just thinking about it.

I pat my enormous belly with the memory as the twins each deliver a sharp kick that would make an Irish step dancer proud.

My false little labor scare three days ago had both Everett and Noah hovering over me like a couple of nervous honeybees. Okay, so the scare wasn’t so little—I may have believed that I was going into full-blown birthing mode. But apparently, that wasn’t the case. It was just a bout of some seriously earth-shattering, but notuterine-shattering, Braxton Hicks contractions.

“That’s telling him, Lot.” Noah pulls me in by the waist, or what little waist I have left. Okay, so I have no waist. I’m nine months pregnant with twins—really big twins (think toddlers).

Noah Corbin Fox is a looker, too, with his dark hair that turns red at the tips, verdant green eyes, and dimples so deep you could take a nap in them. We share a daughter, Lyla Nell, who is set to turn two next week. Noah and I were off and on—and even married more times than I can count. Suffice it to say, we’re complicated. But I’m married to Everett now—and well, that only seemed to complicate things even more. It’s a long and sordid story.

“In fact, I’ve got an idea.” Noah nods to Everett. “Why don’tyougo on bed rest until the babies arrive? I’ll wine and dine Lottie and make sure she has a ball without you. It wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Very funny.” Everett takes a moment to properly glare at Noah for even going there. “I seem to recall you overreacting when you thought her water broke last month.”

“That was different.” Noah ticks his head at the memory. “I didn’t realize she was holding an actual water bottle upside down.”

“Over my pants,” I clarify.

Heck, even I thought I broke my water that day.

“Nevertheless—” Everett’s chest expands as he looks my way. “I’ll be keeping an eye on you until the babies arrive—at least while I’m at home from the courthouse.”

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