Well Slayed: A Paranormal Cozy Mystery (Witches of Devil's Orchard Book 9) by Skye Sullivan

Author:Skye Sullivan [Sullivan, Skye]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-02-28T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 19

It’s time for my next doctor’s appointment and I’m back at the hospital, waiting for the obstetrician to lube up my belly, probe around with the ultrasound sensor and then tut and moan about not being able to bring up an image. The closer I get to the due date, the more often they want to see me, as if they’re going to be wrapping the measuring tape around my belly and the baby’s going to pop its head out and wave hello.

“How long is this going to take?” Grant asks while we wait in the lobby.

“I said that you didn’t have to come,” I remind him.

“But I haven’t been to the last couple of appointments,” he says.

“You’re not missing much,” I say. Grant takes my hand and gives it a squeeze. He leans in close to me and brushes my hair away from my ear with the back of his hand and goosebumps spring up all over my body.

“Plus, it’s an excuse to get away from the paperwork,” he whispers, his lips grazing the sensitive cup of my ear.

“I love it when you talk about your administrative work,” I say.

“Hey,” he says. “It’s the manliest part of the job. The pen is mightier than the sword—remember that.”

“But the sword is hotter than the pen,” I say. “Women don’t swoon over the sheriff because he’s got a pen clipped in his pocket. It’s the gun.”

“Maybe for a blood-thirsty demon slayer like you,” he says. “But for normal women, I’m pretty sure the pen gets their motor running just fine. Trust me. Women love a man who can string a sentence together well enough to convince a district attorney to press charges.”

“When you put it like that,” I say, “it is downright irresistible. No wonder you got me pregnant. I couldn’t resist all those court reports.”

The nurse calls us back and while we’re following her down the sparkling white corridors, I see the doctor that Stromberg told me about—the food poisoning doctor.

“That’s the doctor,” I whisper to Grant, pointing at the Scandinavian giant in a white coat.

“Your doctor?” Grant asks. “I thought your doctor was—”

“No, the one Stromberg said treated the food poisoning patients,” I tell him. “Doctor Payne.”

“Back up,” he says. “If you told me, I forgot.”

“Yeah, all that sexy paperwork,” I say. “She told me not to eat at Krab Korner because two patients died from food poisoning. He was the doctor who treated them, but said it wasn’t food poisoning.”

We follow the nurse down twists and turns and finally she tells us to wait in room three. “Thanks,” I say.

After she closes the door, Grant says, “Let me get this straight. She told you not to eat there because of the risk of food poisoning. But the doctor who treated the patients said it wasn’t food poisoning. I don’t get it.”

“There’s something weird going on,” I say. “It wasn’t in the news, nothing on social media about it, nothing on the restaurant review sites.”

He looks at me patiently, but with the sort of threadbare patience reserved for the chronically pea-brained.

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