Peach Cobbler Confessions by Addison Moore Page 0,3

as if she were trying her best to antagonize me. The woman wraps her arms around Everett and proceeds to make out with his cheek, getting dangerously close to his lips.

“The nerve!” I stand up and half the room looks my way.

Lainey tugs at my arm as she struggles to contain me. “Lottie, sit down.”

“I’m not sitting down. Where is security? Why is that woman accosting my husband?” More to the point, why does she suddenly look vaguely familiar?

Lainey squints toward the front. “What woman?”

Everett gives me a quizzical look as he walks off the stage with that woman hanging onto him as if she were an appendage that miraculously sprouted.

Carlotta stands next to me. “Lot Lot? I have a feeling that woman is for our eyes only.”

I take in another quick breath. This time with far more vigor.

Carlotta and I happen to share strange abilities that fall under the umbrella of transmundane, further classified as supersensual.

The long and short of it? We can see the dead.

“Then that must mean…” I swallow hard in lieu of finishing my sentence.

“That’s right, Lot.” Carlotta leans in close. “That woman is a ghost. And you really know what that means.”

I sure do.

It means murder.

Chapter 2

Murder.

I shudder at the thought as the crowd disperses around me. The ceremony has come to a close and we’ve all been invited to partake in the delicious desserts by the Honey Pot Bakery.

It seems the master of ceremonies had it partially right. The Honey Pot Diner was once my grandma Nell’s restaurant and it, much like almost all the rest of her estate, belongs to me.

The Honey Pot Diner and the Cutie Pie Bakery and Cakery are situated right on Main Street in Honey Hollow. And we just so happen to have a walkway into one another through a shared wall. I suppose if all of these people come to the Honey Pot looking for more of these sweet treats, they’ll simply be redirected my way.

Noah comes up on me first, and I wrap my arms around him, offering him a hearty embrace.

“Congratulations, hero!” I shout up over the noise of the crowd as he dots a kiss to the top of my head.

“Thanks, Lot.” Noah gives a quick glance around. “Before Everett gets here.” He leans in with a serious look in his eyes.

I suck in a quick breath. “You know?”

He ticks his head to the side. “It depends on what you’re talking about.”

“His secret,” I whisper.

Noah’s lips part, but before he can say anything, Carlotta, Lainey, and Meg stride up and congratulate him on his accolade.

A sharp roll of nausea bounces through me.

“Whoa,” I say as I steady myself onto Noah’s shoulder.

Carlotta leans in. “What’s wrong, Lot Lot?”

“I just—my stomach just turned, that’s all. I’m fine.”

Meg steps forward. Meg is a year younger than me. Her hair is dyed a harsh shade of black with navy highlights and her icy blue eyes zero in on my face with a look of worry.

“You’re glowing, Lottie.” She pulls back and snarls. Meg has a bit of a Goth girl thing going, with her thick black eyeshadow and dark crimson lips, her black leather skirt, and matching bustier. Meg used to work the female wrestling circuit in Las Vegas, but now she teaches the strippers down at the gentlemen’s club their dicey moves.

Lainey sniffs my way while rubbing her belly. “She’s right. Why are you glowing?”

Carlotta gasps. “Glowing and sick to your stomach? It can only mean one thing. You’ve been knocked up!”

“What?” both Noah and I shout in unison.

Noah pulls back as he examines me with new eyes.

“Lottie, this baby could be mine.”

“No, it can’t.” I shake my head. “I’m not having a baby.”

Lainey makes a face. “You could be.”

Everett steps up and his warm spiced cologne encircles me just a moment before he plucks me out of Noah’s arms.

“What’s going on?” He frowns over at the inquisitive faces surrounding me.

Everett more or less has a sixth sense when it comes to winnowing the truth out of people. It’s not a wonder why he went into law.

Carlotta snags him by the arm. “Our Lot Lot is going to have a baby!”

“What?” He inches back a notch to get a better look at me. “Lemon, is this true?” His lips curve as if he wholeheartedly approves—good to know.

Everett has only ever called me by my surname, and I’ve yet to complain. This man has yet to give me a single reason to complain about anything.

“No, it’s not true,” I