Page 21 of Tasting Sin

“And you’re sure you have no idea who would do something like this?” the third police officer asked me. I’d answered the same questions for each of them. What was I doing when the vandalism happened? Did I see anyone? Were there any witnesses?

I sighed. “No. Like I told the other officers, I can’t think of anyone.” I looked around the crime scene that was once just my bakery, and my stomach tightened. “People don’t hate me.”

“Well, apparently someone does,” the officer chuckled. When I glared at him, he choked on his laugh, trying too late to cover it up with a forced cough. “Or more so, they hate someone you’re in with.” He waved the evidence bag holding the warning letter, and I wanted to snatch it out of his hand. I don’t know who he thought I was in with, but I didn’t even know what that meant.

“Look, really, I don’t have any—”

Before I could explain that I didn’t have any enemies, I didn’t have really any ex-boyfriends, and Ava was the only friend I ever really kept in contact with, the bell above the door interrupted me. I whipped my head around, my heart starting to pound heavily against my ribcage. Most customers saw the police tape out front and steered very clear. Nobody had come in yet.

When I saw him, my stomach sank, and I felt a surprising wave of relief at the same time. Ronan stood out more than usual in his black suit, looking dark and grumpy compared to the pink walls, definitely more put together than the shattered window that was now boarded up. Everything looked darker. It felt darker too.

“Mr. Moretti,” Detective Stanton said, looking up from his notes and tilting his head. “I certainly didn’t expect to see you here. What a pleasant surprise.” He sounded sarcastic, but Ronan smiled, and confusion tied a knot in my esophagus. Did they know each other?

Ronan took his outstretched hand, giving it a quick shake. “Detective. Always a pleasure.” Then, he looked at me, and there was something different there. He had a look on his face like he was trying to read my mind. “Are you okay?” he asked me, and I watched his hands twitch at his sides before he stuffed them in his pockets.

I nodded, glancing down at myself before looking back up. “I think so,” I finally said when he didn’t look away. Was I okay? Some minutes, I felt better than others.

“Do you know anything yet?” He patted the detective on the shoulder, pointing at the broken glass and plywood behind him, as if it wasn’t obvious. My stare bounced between Ronan and a noticeably grumpier detective.

“I was about to ask you the same thing.” Detective Stanton glared and then straightened his face. “What do you know about all of this?” He waved wildly at the bakery like the issue was more than the front window. Was he suggesting Ronan knew what happened?

Watch your back.

I shivered. “All I know is that a brick went through that window. Nellie is an old friend of mine. She’s catering my parents’ anniversary party this weekend.” Ronan stepped closer, draping his arm over my shoulders. I thought about slipping from his hold and away from the almost musky scent of vetiver that seduced my senses, explaining we weren’t friends, and asking him to leave—but I didn’t. I stayed where I was. “I heard about the vandalism and thought I’d come check in.”

“You shouldn’t be here,” I said, but when the detective narrowed his eyes, I felt grateful Ronan was there.

He shook his head. “I wouldn’t be anywhere else. This isn’t okay.” He looked at me, searching my eyes for answers to a question he didn’t ask.

“I’ll give you two a moment,” Detective Stanton said with a curious side glance before he walked away to talk to another man in a matching uniform. As they talked, both detectives turned their glances in our direction more than once. What were they talking about?

“That’s not true,” I finally said, my voice barely more than a whisper. The words stuck to the sides of my throat, and Ronan drew his brows together. “You weren’t there when your best friend died. Why would you be here for this?” The suspicion I had tried to bite back about his familiarity with Detective Stanton seeped into my tone, catching Ronan off guard.

“I was there,” he snapped, quickly grabbing both of my upper arms and holding me still so I couldn’t turn away. Suddenly, my legs itched to do exactly that, but as I fidgeted, he gripped my arms tighter. “I found him, Nellie. I begged him to wake up. I was there!” His voice boomed, drawing quick, curious glances from the people around them. When he noticed the stares, he lowered his volume. “I’m sorry I didn’t go to the funeral, that I disappeared. I never came back, and when your parents…fuck. I know I should’ve checked on you, but I didn’t want to make things worse.”

“Then why are you here now?” I swallowed the lump lodged in my throat and blinked, trying to stop the stinging that would accompany more tears. “Why did you come into my bakery at all?”

He pointed behind him at the yellow sign that still hung in the window, even covered with the plywood. “Accidents happen. I saw the sign. I didn’t know it was your place.”

“Well… it was my place.” I scanned the bakery I loved, letting my gaze linger longer on the damage and the cops littering the small space. I sighed.

Ronan let go of my arms, gently resting his hands on my shoulders. I couldn’t help but look into his dark brown eyes—the intensity in them held me captive. “Nellie, seriously. Are you okay? This is a lot to go through.” I shook my head, no longer able to fight back the tears that now painted their way down my cheeks.

He pulled me to him until my cheek rested against his chest and my tears soaked his probably very expensive suit. When he pressed his lips against the top of my head, my breath halted. I stiffened, but at the same time, I felt the gentle kiss in my core. I sucked in a sudden deep breath, planting my hands against his chest and pushing him back a step. I slipped out of his hold, offering a gentle smile when he looked surprised.

“What did they mean to be careful who I take help from? Are they referring to you?” I tried to grasp at the fading distrust I’d felt toward him the first time he walked in. “Should I not trust you?” Part of me already thought I knew the answer to that question. I hadn’t been able to trust him for over a decade. Why would I start now?

“You should absolutely trust me,” he said firmly, hooking his finger under my chin and guiding my gaze to meet his. His already dark brown eyes seemed like they were even darker, and they drilled into mine. “I’d never let anything happen to you.”

When it felt like the crowd in the dining room had faded away, we were interrupted by Detective Stanton clearing his voice. “Sorry to interrupt,” he said with a snide smirk. “I had some more questions for Ms. Giordano.”

“Go for it,” I said, failing to hide the defeat in my voice. Since the glass had shattered the night before, I’d answered a constant onslaught of questions that didn’t seem like it was ever going to end.

“Preferably alone,” he added, looking at Ronan and cocking his head to the side.

Ronan narrowed his eyes before he nodded curtly. “That’s fine. I should make a call anyways.” Then, he walked away, leaving me with the detective. We both watched him as he increased the distance between us. Even as he turned the corner down the small hallway to the bathroom, his presence loomed. I shivered, and a surprising warmth settled in my stomach.

Be careful who you take help from.

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