I purse my lips, supply him with a casual wink. “Are you leading his heart astray, Mr. Strand?”
“Unfortunately so,” he says, nodding. “I also take advantage of his baking skills. He prepares these amazing French pastries for me. I can’t pronounce what they are, but they look like lady fingers, and they’re absolutely delicious. I’m not proud of myself for such weak and dire behavior, but can’t help it.”
I chuckle at his confessions. “It sounds harmless. I’m sure you can live with yourself. Besides, every handsome man needs a yummy French pastry.”
“So far it is harmless, but who knows what will happen in the future.”
I pat his left shoulder, comforting him. “It will all work out in the end. Most things do among writers and bakers and bookstores. I hardly ever see stories on the evening n
