Read Online Carpe Demon: Adventures of a Demon-Hunting Soccer Mom by Julie Kenner - Free Book Online

foothold. I held out a hand, and she came to me, her expression wary as she eased onto the bed. I pulled her to me and closed my eyes, breathing in the scent of Ivory soap and Aveda shampoo. I wasn’t alone, and damn me for wallowing in self-pity. I had Allie and Timmy and Stuart, and I loved them each desperately.
    “Were you thinking about Daddy?”
    Her words cut through me like a knife, and I heard myself gasp.
    “It’s okay,” she said. “It’s okay to miss him.”
    She was repeating my own words back to me. My baby girl. Eric’s baby girl. She’d grown so much since he’d died. He’d missed so much. I reached and stroked her cheek, determined not to cry.
    “You okay?” she asked, tiny lines of worry creasing her forehead.
    I took her hand and squeezed. “I’m fine,” I said. “But when exactly did you grow up?”
    The worry lines faded, replaced with a smile that was almost shy.
    “Does that mean we can add an extra hour to my curfew?” She spoke lightly, with a little impish grin I recognized as my own. I reflected it right back at her, my mood already remarkably lighter. “I’ll take it under advisement,” I said.
    “In mom-speak, that means no.”
    “Not only did you grow up, you grew wise.”
    “If I’m so smart, how come my curfew’s so early?”
    I swung my feet over the side of the bed. “That’s one of the great mysteries of the universe,” I said. “I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.”
    “Mo-om.” She rolled her eyes, and just like that, life went back to normal. Or at least as normal as possible under the circumstances. After all, I had a demon to hunt and a body to dispose of. I’d already accidentally overslept. Now I really had to get with the program.
     
     
    The scene that greeted me in the kitchen was almost as scary as my encounter last night with Larson—Stuart standing in front of a griddle, spatula in hand, French toast sizzling in front of him. And the pantry door behind him standing wide open. Yikes!
    I leaped across the room, managing to avoid a plastic Tonka truck and half a dozen LEGOs. My hand closed around the knob to the pantry, and I slammed the door shut, then leaned against it, breathing hard.
    “Wait!” Stuart called, leading with the spatula as he took a step toward me.
    My heart stopped beating.
    “I need another loaf of bread from in there.”
    Thump-thump, thump-thump . Okay. I was going to survive after all. “There’s a loaf in the bread box,” I said.
    “Not anymore.”
    I grimaced. How could he go through an entire loaf of bread and still not have enough French toast to feed two adults, a teenager, and a toddler? Even I could manage that.
    “I’ll grab it for you,” I said brightly. “After all, I’m right here.”
    He raised his eyebrows. “So I see. That’s why I asked you.”
    “Right.” I smiled, hoping to forestall any chance of my husband thinking I was nuts.
    “Momma Momma Momma.” Timmy’s little voice managed to fill the entire downstairs. “Where you at, Momma?” The patter of footie-pajama feet, and then my little man appeared in the kitchen, a sippy cup in one hand and Boo Bear in the other. “Go potty, Momma. Go potty.”
    Shit . Not the most apropos of curses, I supposed, because Timmy had no interest in the whole potty-training experience. He just liked to sit on his little-bitty toilet fully clothed while he tossed things into the tub. Unfortunately, this activity required the presence of a mommy for full enjoyment potential.
    “Go ahead,” Stuart said. “I’ll get the bread.”
    “Allie, can you take him to the bathroom?”
    “Oh, Mom, do I have to?” Allie had plunked herself down at the kitchen table and was now engrossed in the pages of some magazine.
    “Yes,” I said, even as Timmy started up again, belting out a rousing chorus of “Mommamommamomma” without any musical accompaniment whatsoever.
    “Timmy, honey, go with Allie.”
    “No.”
    “Allie . . .”
    “He doesn’t