Page 7 of Tasting Sin

“He’s coming this way.” She nudged me with her elbow, as if I didn’t see him in the same streetlight lit haze.

I took a deep breath. “I see that,” I said quickly before Ronan was within ear shot.

“Twice in one week. What are you ladies doing out here?” Ronan asked, taking a quick scan of the mostly-empty street. “It’s kind of late, isn’t it?”

“That’s not really any of your business.” I put my hands on my hips, ignoring the surprised side eye from Ava.

She sighed. “We were getting a couple of drinks and brainstorming,” she interjected. “I’m Ava.”

“Nice to meet you, Ava. Ronan.” He nodded at her briefly before turning his interest back to me. He lifted both of his brows. “Brainstorming what?”

Ava giggled as the alcohol fogged her ability to read the situation. “Fundraisers to get enough money to keep the bakery!” she answered him.

“Oh? And what did you come up with?” I couldn’t tell anymore if Ronan was talking to me or Ava, but he didn’t move his intimidating stare from my face.

“Nothing. We need to go.” I wrapped my hand around Ava’s elbow, gripping it tightly enough that she gasped quietly. I broke the stare and turned us around, leading us in the other direction and away from Ronan as quickly as I could.

Behind me, I heard him chuckle. “You know I can help you, Nellie.” He didn’t follow us, but his words pulled at me like they were magnetic.

“Why are we walking away from him?” Ava asked, wincing from the grip I had on her elbow. “Ouch. You’re hurting me.”

I let go of her arm when I was sure she wasn’t going to turn around and go back to finish the conversation herself. She would accept his help. I knew better. “Sorry,” I said when I dropped my hold.

“You know, he really doesn’t seem that bad. Why don’t you just hear him out?” She rubbed her elbow, looking at me confused.

I scoffed, but I didn’t stop walking. “Not happening.”

“Why not?” Ava stuffed her hands into her pocket, settling in for the rest of the walk. The apartment building we lived in was only a couple blocks away from the bar. That was why the hole-in-the-wall bar had become our go-to spot.

“He was Dickie’s best friend,” I reminded her and bit back another rush of guilt. They had become more common over the last couple days. Ever since Ronan Moretti walked out of my bakery, I couldn’t stop thinking about my brother.

Ava slowed down, but she didn’t come to a complete stop when she realized I wasn’t going to stop with her. “I don’t get it. Why is that a bad thing?” She was obviously confused.

I sucked in a deep breath when I saw our building on the corner, and I released a sigh. I was relieved to see the old brick building, knowing it would be the easiest way to end this conversation.

“You hate him, don’t you? Why?” I didn’t blame Ava for being lost, and when I looked at her, her nose was scrunched in confusion.

I stepped onto the first step, shaking my head. “I don’t want to talk about it. Just drop it.”

I can help you, Nellie.

Chapter 6

Ronan

“Bout time you showed up,” Giaco said before the front door had closed completely behind me. “What took so long?” Behind him, my father chuckled, and my cousin hovered against the wall leading to the dining room.

I glared at my brother, hugging him with one arm and balancing the cupcakes on the other. He smacked my back and squeezed. “I had to visit Nikki, remember?” I stepped back from him, mumbling under my breath to add, “Impatient son of a bitch.”

He knew I was going to be late. He was the one who had insisted I stop by The Full Spread tonight. I rolled my eyes, stepping around him to hug my father. “You two shut up. It’s too early for you to be bickering already.” He clapped me on the back. “It’s good to see you, son. Enzo has been driving us all crazy.” His laugh echoed when my cousin scoffed.

“It’s true,” Giaco said, chortling. He took the few steps to cross the foyer, throwing his arm around Enzo’s neck and pulling him in. Enzo protested.

Before he broke free from Giaco’s hold, I heard the click of my mother’s shoes dancing quickly from the kitchen. “I knew I heard you come in,” she squealed, picking up her pace so she was nearly jogging across the foyer. She glared quickly in their direction before a bright grin returned to her face, and she threw her arms around me. “What is this?” she asked, pointing to the balanced white box when she let go.

“Cupcakes,” I said matter-of-factly, earning sideways stares from the rest of the room.

“Did you say cupcakes?” my sister asked excitedly, dancing down the stairs and scooping the box from my hands. She lifted the lid and took a whiff of the sugar-filled treats and grinned like she was sixteen, not twenty-six. “Oh my God, I love cupcakes.”

---