Page 110 of The Sinner's Bargain

His arm was around my middle and pulling me to him to kiss. “As often as you like,” he murmured against my lips.

Giddy, I let him take my hand and guide me through the village. I felt as if my head were on a swivel stick, constantly in motion, pivoting to see everything. Thoran didn’t seem to mind when I randomly stopped at different windows to peer in at the goods inside. He waited patiently until I hurried back to him with my questions.

“How many people live here? Do they live in the village? Are there houses here or just shops?”

He chuckled. “A little under seven hundred since the last count a year ago. People don’t usually move out unless they really have to, but people have kids or pass away and that number fluctuates. A lot of the buildings have apartments built upstairs with the shops below, but there’s a whole residential section towards the west side of the village.”

“Can people move in?” I asked.

He started to shake his head, but stopped. He gave a small grimace. “Yes and no. The process to apply for residency is very complex and we have a waiting list a mile long. But we will occasionally approve a few every few years. We get a lot of tourists. There are a couple of B&Bs that people rent for a few days, but they’re not allowed to stay without specific permission by me.”

I tilted my head back to peer at him. “Why so few?”

He motioned with the wave of his hand at the picturesque scenery. “Balance. I have to keep in mind housing for these people and how their contribution will help the community. The majority of the people living here have had family here for generations. Possibly from the very beginning. They have dedicated their lives to building and maintaining this community. It’s my responsibility to make sure there is enough housing, jobs, and comfort by keeping that balance.”

I unconsciously squeezed his fingers. “Do you know anyone here?”

“I know everyone.”

I was so fascinated. I had a million questions, but I was distracted by the sweet smell of warm sugar wafting through the air. It spilled into the damp afternoon, unspooling onto the streets straight into our path with the exit of a single figure leaving a tiny shop on our left.

“Oh, that smells amazing,” I breathed, moving to the glass to peer down at the trays of perfectly cut squares of brownies and caramels, and cookies. So many things all beautifully displayed behind gleaming glass.

“Come on.”

Thoran took my hand and tugged me in through the door, and the smells ... lord, it was heaven stepping into the warm, golden hue of sugar and icing. I had to check to make sure I wasn’t drooling as Thoran made his way to the counter and the small, kind looking man watching us with warm, brown eyes the same color as the rich brownies taunting me on a try me platter next to his rough hands.

“Mr. Lacroix, what a pleasure,” he said in a deep, rumbling voice much larger than he was. “If I had known you would be visiting, and with such lovely company, I would have made something special.”

“Hello Yael. That’s very kind.” Thoran turned to me. “What do you like?”

Panic washed over me as all three pairs of eyes rested on me, waiting for me to choose something I’d never been allowed to have. I knew what they all were, of course. I’d seen tables full of gleaming, silver trays heaped with an assortment of the most delectable confections, but I couldn’t tell anyone what they tasted like. Never mind pick one I liked.

“I’m not really sure,” I whispered. “They all look delicious.”

That seemed to settle the matter for Thoran as he faced the man. “One of everything, Yael, please. Box them up and I’ll have someone pick them up in the morning.”

If Yael was surprised by the declaration, he never let on. His balding head inclined once before he dusted his large hands on the front of his apron and turned to the notepad by the register.

“If they come before five, they’ll be fresh from the oven,” he informed Thoran, scribbling out the order on the pad and ripping the top part off to hold out.

Thoran accepted the slip and passed it to Cyrus without looking at the price.

“Thank you.” Warm, golden orbs lowered to the display, and he selected four, small squares from four different trays. “Can I get those to go, please?”

Caramel. Coconut. Walnut. Chocolate.

I read the labels as Yael grabbed a box and began selecting each one indicated. Thoran stopped him when he started to slap a sticker over the box to seal the lid.

“They won’t make it down the street,” he told the man who chuckled as he slid the box across the counter.

“Oh, no, no, it’s on the house,” Yael said when Thoran pulled his wallet out. “Please. I insist.”

Thoran nodded, but still pulled out a crisp hundred and stuffed it into the tip jar. “For your troubles then.”

With Yael’s grateful farewells following us out the door, we stepped back into the cool afternoon.

“That was very kind of you,” I said as we made our way onward.

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