'Bollocks,' Oliver teased, looking about as if to prove his point. 'You dreamed up every last bit of this place. Don't sell yourself short. It's absolutely brilliant.'
And because he couldn't help himself, Oliver's eyes slid to the pastry counter. Everything looked and smelled fresh and inviting and he pointed with an apologetic grin. 'I'm sorry, I've just got to- butter croissant? Please? Then we can catch up. It's just- I- I'm weak. Can't help it. My concentration will be shot until I get a taste.
'I've heard really good things about your biscuits, as well.'