Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 39513 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 198(@200wpm)___ 158(@250wpm)___ 132(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 39513 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 198(@200wpm)___ 158(@250wpm)___ 132(@300wpm)
The sound of boots crunching over glass behind me pulls me from Alessandro’s arms. I can’t cry right now. I can fall apart later when I’m alone.
I take a deep breath, swiping at my eyes.
“Sunshine,” Alessandro murmurs, concern etched across his handsome face as he takes a step toward me.
I quickly shake my head, throwing a hand up to forestall him. “Please don’t,” I whisper. “I can’t. Not right now.”
His gaze flits across my face. I’m not sure what he sees there, but his expression softens with understanding. “I’ll be right here beside you, angel,” he says quietly. “For as long as you need me. And as soon as we’re out of here, I’ll be here to hold you.”
“Thank you.” I swallow hard, fighting down the lump rising in my throat. I don’t deserve him. I really don’t. But I’m not giving him up now.
I take a breath and reluctantly turn to face Dillon, who waits a few feet away, trying to give me a minute.
His dark eyes scan across my face, his expression gentle. “You okay, sweetheart?” he asks, crossing toward us.
I quickly shake my head, and his eyes darken with irritation. Dillon is a good man and a great Sheriff. He cares about the people in this town and what happens to them. Even if we weren’t almost related, he’d still be here, treating me the same way. That’s just who he is.
“Who…” I lick my lips, my gaze darting around the bakery again. “Who did this?” I ask, hating how small my voice sounds. Hating everything about this.
“I was hoping you could tell us that,” Dillon says. “Alessandro told me that you’ve been getting some notes indicating that someone doesn’t want you opening the bakery.”
My heart sinks. “You think it’s the same person.”
“We have to consider the possibility.”
God. I’m so stupid. All this time, I told myself it wasn’t that serious. That they were just harmless notes. But this isn’t harmless. This is violent. It’s dangerous.
“Any idea who is behind the notes, Heidi?” Dillon asks.
“I… No.” I shake my head. “I have no idea.”
Dillon nods, looking like he expected that. “Who would benefit from you closing up shop?”
I think about it for a long moment. “Peter Guidry, Aspen Diamante, and Aaron Sims, maybe?” Peter is the pastry chef at the Broadway Steakhouse—the only place in town that currently has anything resembling a bakery, aside from the coffee shop. Aaron owns the donut shop. And Aspen owns the coffee shop. “But Aspen is best friends with Leia. Their husbands are practically attached at the hip. There’s no way she would do this.”
“I think we can rule her out as a suspect,” Dillon agrees. “She’s all for the bakery. What about Peter and Aaron? Have you had any problems with either of them?”
I shake my head and then bite my lip. “Well, maybe? Aaron wasn’t thrilled when he found out I was opening a bakery. But Aaron isn’t ever thrilled about anything new in town. He swears everything new is going to run him out of business.”
Dillon snorts as if he’s well acquainted with the man’s complaints. “What about Peter?”
“The bakery will be in direct competition with the bakery portion of the Steakhouse,” I mumble. “He was a little bent out of shape about having competition, but that was weeks ago.”
“Anyone else?”
I wrack my brain, trying to think of anyone, but come up with nothing. “No,” I whisper, shaking my head. “No one.”
Dillon nods, sharing a look with Alessandro. “We’ll look into Peter and Aaron and see what we come up with.”
“What am I supposed to do in the meantime?” I ask, looking around at the mess again. “I don’t…I can’t…” Tears well in my eyes. “Look at this place.”
“I know, sweetheart.” Dillon reaches out, squeezing my hand. “Call your insurance to get it sorted. We’ll do whatever we can to help in the meantime. I promise you; this bakery is going to open.”
“We’ll see,” I whisper sadly.
He and Alessandro share another look over my head. And I just…can’t be here anymore. Not right now.
“Am I done here? Can I go? Please?”
“Yeah,” Dillon says, his voice soft. “You can go. I’ll call Alessandro when we’re finished here, okay?”
I bob my head in a nod, already rushing toward the door, afraid if I don’t get out now, I’m going to fall apart again. And I can’t do that. Not here, not now. Whoever did this has already taken everything from me that I’m willing to let them take. They don’t get to take my dignity, too.
Chapter Eight
Alessandro
The broken pieces of Heidi’s glittery porcelain countertop are heavy as a motherfucker as Dacen, Tony Gordon, and Banks Phoenix, the Deputy Chief, help me carry it out of the bakery early the next morning. Glass shards litter the floor, crunching under our boots as we navigate around the tables and chairs tossed around like a fucking hurricane swept through.