Page 100 of Of Heather and Thistle
She inhaled deeply before stepping out of the car. The air smelled like rain and freshly cut wood, like earth warmed by the highland sun. She wasn’t ready for this. But she walked up the steps anyway, pushing open the heavy door without knocking. She stepped inside Glenoran, the scent of sawdust and polish lingering in the air. The house was warm, golden afternoon light spilling through the tall windows, illuminating the restored stone walls and rich wood beams. Footsteps echoed through the kitchen.
“Thought I heard you pull up.”
Heather turned to find Flynn leaning against the banister, arms crossed over his chest. His shirt was dusty, his jeansstained from work, but he looked the same—steady, solid, like the kind of man who didn’t waver. Like the kind of man who didn’t leave.
She exhaled, pushing down the strange swirl of emotions. “You finished it.”
His blue eyes flickered to her, searching her face. “Aye. Come see.”
She followed him down the hall, the sound of their footsteps softened on the refinished floors. The sitting room was first—cozy and elegant, with the grand fireplace at its heart. The original stone had been carefully cleaned, and the old wooden mantel was restored to its former richness. The furniture hadn’t arrived yet, but she could already picture it: tufted armchairs by the fire, a whisky decanter on the side table. Heather ran her fingers along the windowsill, nodding. “It looks…right.”
Flynn hummed. “That was the idea. Keep the first floor true to what it was, just—” he gestured around, “—Usable.”
She followed him into the library next. The built-in shelves stretched floor to ceiling, freshly oiled and waiting to be filled. The large windows framed the lush greenery outside, and in the center of the room, a heavy wooden desk sat, its surface smooth and inviting. Her mother would have loved this.
Heather swallowed. “It’s perfect.”
Flynn glanced at her, but she quickly turned, moving to the next room before he could look too closely. The dining room was grand, the long wooden table refinished and polished, and the chandelier above it was carefully restored. The room was steeped in history, yet it felt alive again.
He watched her. “You approve, then?”
She forced a light tone. “For someone who spent monthscovered in dust and arguing with suppliers, you did a decent job.”
His lips twitched, but he didn’t smile. “C’mon, one more room.” He led her into the kitchen, and the second she stepped inside, something inside her stopped. It was stunning. The flagstone floors had been deep cleaned, and the massive hearth was preserved as a focal point. The cabinetry was rich, dark wood, carefully updated for function while still feeling like it belonged to the house.
A farmhouse sink sat beneath a wide window, and the countertops were smooth, cool stone. It was the kind of kitchen that looked lived in, even though it was brand new. Heather trailed her fingers along the edge of the counter. “It’s beautiful.”
Flynn leaned against the island, arms crossed over his chest. “Aye. She’s bonnie.”
There was something in his tone that made her turn. His gaze was steady, unreadable. Heather’s pulse ticked up. She knew this moment had been coming since the second she walked through the door.
“I’ll start reaching out to my relatives soon,” she said, bracing herself. “I just need to confirm a few things before I make the offer.”
Flynn’s jaw tightened. “You’re really sellin’ it then?”
She exhaled. “Flynn-”
“Just answer the damn question, Heather.”
The kitchen suddenly felt too warm, too small. “Yes,” she said, forcing the word out even though it felt wrong. “I told you that from the beginning.”
Flynn let out a slow breath, rubbing a hand over his stubbled jaw. “Aye, ye did.” He shook hishead, muttering something in Gaelic under his breath. “And yet, I still believed you might change your mind.”
Heather’s throat tightened. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?” His voice was sharp now, rough around the edges. “Expect you to stop running?”
Heat flared her cheeks. “I’m not running.”
Flynn’s laugh was humorless. “You’ve been runnin’ since the day you got here.” He stepped closer, his broad frame crowding the space between them. “Tell me something—if I hadnae brought you that damn coffee that morning, would you have run then too?”
Heather stiffened, but he wasn’t finished.
“Would you have slipped out of that inn before I woke?”
His voice dropped lower, rougher. “Was that the plan, lass? Leave before I could ask you to stay?”
She hadn’t planned it exactly but didn’t know what else to do. How he had looked at her that morning and had been so kind and uncomplicatedly good had terrified her. And he knew. That was the worst part. Flynn had seen it all and seen her.
