Page 12 of Of Heather and Thistle
“Perfect.” He slid the book off the counter and tucked it under his arm. “Looking forward to it.”
With one last dazzling smile, he turned and walked out, leaving Heather standing behind the counter, her heart hammering in her chest and a stupid grin on her face.
The door jingled behind him.
She stood frozen, cheeks flushed and heart hammering, like she might float right off the ground. And then she heard it— a very distinct throat-clearing noise.
She turned slowly to see Mark peeking out from behind a shelf of mystery novels, his arms crossed and an enormous grin plastered across his face.
“So…,” he said, drawing out the word like a seasoned interrogator, “Italian food, huh? Fancy.”
Heather groaned, covering her face with her hands. “Mark! Seriously?”
“I mean, I was just over here trying to alphabetize Agatha Christie, but the conversation was… impossible to ignore. Riveting, really.”
He leaned casually against the shelf, adopting a mock-serious tone.
“Did I hear correctly thatSam Ashford… Sam Ashford!…asked you on a date? …At an Italian restaurant? …Is he bringing roses, too, or will he be arriving on horseback?”
Heather glared at him, though the corners of her mouth twitched and she started to smile. “I hate you.”
“No, you don’t!” he sighed dramatically, clutching an imaginary bouquet to his chest.
Then, with an exaggerated gasp, his eyes widened.
“Wait! Does this make you Elizabeth Bennet? Becauseheis absolutely giving broody-but-besottedMr. Darcyright now.”
“That’s the last time I let you watchPride and Prejudicewith Ivy.”
“Oh, please,” Mark scoffed. “Like I neededIvyto educate me on the finer points of regency romance. Now tell me: will you be staring wistfully across the rain-soaked moors before declaring your undying love, or should I lower my expectations?”
“Mark!” Heather hissed, glancing nervously toward the door. “Keep your voice down! What if he hears you?”
He raised an eyebrow, unbothered.
“What, through the soundproof windows? Relax, Heather. Your dignity is safe—well…
Relatively.”
He shrugged.
She rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the nervous laugh that bubbled up.
“You’re insufferable, you know that?”
Mark grinned. “Of course! But now I’ve got front-row seats to what’s shaping up to be the most interesting thing that’s happened in this bookstore in years. Don’t keep me waiting for updates, okay? I want a full play-by-play by Monday.”
Heather shook her head, grabbing the nearest book and smacking him lightly on the arm.
“You’re impossible.”
“And you are going to have the time of your life,” he said, pointing a finger at her as he retreated to the counter. “Don’t mess this up, Heather. The fate of my entertainment depends on it!”
Heather groaned, but as she turned back to her work, she couldn’t stop the small, giddy smile on her face.
Chapter 5
Heather was back at work the next day, trying to focus on organizing a display table of historical fiction novels, but her thoughts kept drifting. It wasn’t just the date tonight—although that was enough to keep her nerves in a twist—it was also the envelope sitting on her coffee table at home. Inside it was the key to a house in Scotland. Her house. A place she hadn’t even known existed until now. Every time she thought about it, her stomach flipped.
