Page 61 of Damián

Then, out of the corner of my eye, I catch movement near the romance section.

I turn and spot Finnian. He is wrapping up a conversation with a customer at another table, only to immediately move on to the next.

Oh no way…

Is Finnian pretending that it’s normal for him to do a meet-and-greet with every single table, just so he has an excuse to come over here and interrogate Ollie without making it obvious to the shadows?

Sure enough, Finnian begins the most absurd fake ‘tour’ around his bakery.

He wipes down a table that is already clean and adjusts a stack of napkins at the next table. He asks an elderly couple if their croissants are flaky enough, and recommends a cookie to a kid.

Dios, he looks hilarious. I wish I could record this…

“Well, it looks like I won’t be the only one getting interrogated by a friend today,” I whisper to Oliver.

“What do you mean?”

“Give it a minute, and you’ll see.”

Then, suddenly, surprise, surprise, he finally arrives at our booth.

Damn… I should’ve picked a booth further in the back.

See how long it would take him to reach us.

“Oh! Damián,” Finnian says, with the fakest surprise. “I didnae see you come in.”

“Hi, Finni,” I say, biting the inside of my cheek to stop myself from grinning. “I’m so happy you’re a baker; you would starve to death if you ever tried getting cast.”

“Haha! I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m just here to check if the pies an’ sweets are to your liking,” he says, with a thick Scottish accent, his amber eyes glaring at me. “Like I always do… with all ma tables.”

“They are incredible,” Oliver says with a smile. “I’m Oliver, by the way. Damián has told me so much about this place. You’re a genius.”

And by the super-happy face Finnian has, I can tell Oliver just won him over with that one single comment.

“It is so lovely to meet you, Oliver. Damián is one of our best regulars; he brings all of his art clients here an’ uses us as if we were his office. Still, it’s lovely to see him genuinely smile for once.”

I scoff. “What are you talking about? I smile all the time.”

“You smolder.”

Oliver gasps. “He does smolder!”

“The fuck is that?” I ask indignantly.

“You know, like a smoldering gaze,” Finnian says, as if repeating the word would magically explain everything. “Like Mr. Rider’s eyes.”

“Are you comparing me… to Rapunzel’s boyfriend?”

“Aye.”

“What th—Mmm… actually, I don’t mind. Flynn is awesome.” I take a bite of my croissant. “Okay, I approve.”

“You know Flynn Rider?” Zara asks, shocked.

“Dami knows more about Disney than you do about brands.”

Zara bursts out laughing. “I never would’ve guessed that in a million years.”