Page 108 of Of Heather and Thistle
“Deny it all you want, lass. But I saw the way ye looked at me lifting that sofa. Ye were practically swooning.”
Heather let out a very undignified laugh, but then Flynn turned her in his arms, brushing a thumb across her cheek.
His expression softened. “Ye know,mo chridhe… it’s okay to want this. All of it.”
Heather’s breath caught.
This.
This house. This place. This man.
Her heart ached with its weight. She knew what he meant. He wasn’t talking about Glenoran.
He was talking aboutthem.
She hesitated; the words stuck in her throat.
Flynn’s blue eyes searched hers. He wasn’t asking her to decide now; he was asking her to see it—to see this as a choice she could make.
Heather exhaled and pressed a slow, lingering kiss on his lips. The rest could wait. But this?
This, she was holding onto with both hands.
Chapter 32
The house was quiet.
For the first time since Heather had arrived in Glenoran, it was just her and the lingering echoes of the past. No workers hammering away at repairs, no piles of dust-covered boxes to sort through. Just her, Byrdie, and the hum of possibility.
She set her bags down in the entryway and exhaled slowly. This was it.
Byrdie jumped onto the window seat in the foyer with a soft chirp, her tail flicking as she surveyed her new domain. The cat stretched luxuriously, then promptly curled up in a warm patch of sunlight. Heather smiled. At least one of them was settling in effortlessly.
She walked through the house, fingers trailing over the newly refinished banister. The house looked and felt different now. The raw edges of its neglect had been smoothed away, its bones polished and strengthened, yet it still carried the same weight and history.
It wasn’t just a project anymore.
It was hers.
Heather inhaled deeply, catching the lingering scent of fresh paint mixed with something older—wood smoke from the last fire, the faint trace of lavender and rosemary that always seemed woven into the very walls of Glenoran. The house had found its rhythm again.
She wondered if she had been wrong. If she had spent so much time convincing herself she didn’t belong here that, she never considered the possibility that she did.
Her phone buzzed on the kitchen counter, pulling her out of her thoughts.
It was Flynn.
Settled in yet?
Heather smirked and tapped out a response.
More like staring at the walls and hoping I don’t regret this decision.
His reply was quick:
That sounds about right. Need a distraction?
Before she could answer, another text popped up.
