Page 16 of Of Heather and Thistle
Heather huffed. “I’m not a project, Ivy.”
“No, you’re a masterpiece!” Ivy corrected, winking as she ushered her toward the door of her apartment, to navigate down to the lobby on her own.
* * *
Heather descended Ivy’s narrow staircase, the sound of her heels echoing against the worn wood. Stepping out intothe cool night air, she spotted Sam’s car idling by the curb. He leaned casually against the driver’s side, his broad frame illuminated by the soft glow of the streetlight.
When he saw her, his expression shifted—his dark eyes widening slightly before a slow smile spread. He straightened, opening the passenger door for her as she approached.
“Wow, Heather,” he said, his voice low, his gaze trailing over her. “You look… incredible.”
God…he said her name as if he’d tasted it first.
She forced herself to stay calm, even as warmth bloomed in her chest. “Thanks. You clean up pretty well yourself.”
He chuckled, shutting her car door and stepping to the driver’s side. “Pretty well? I’m wounded, truly.”
She smiled, the nerves in her stomach easing just slightly. He smelled faintly of something woodsy and warm, and as he settled into his seat, her eyes trailed him without permission.
The city lights of Millhaven flickered past as Sam guided the car down the winding streets toward downtown. The rhythmic sound of the tires on the road filled the silence until Sam glanced over at her, a small smile tugging at his lips.
“So,” he said, his voice warm and casual. “I’ve been looking forward to this all day.”
Heather glanced at him, her fingers playing nervously with the hem of her dress. She tried to keep her tone light, but her pulse betrayed her, quickening at his words. “Have you now?”
“I have. Though, full disclosure, Mark might’ve let it slip that you’ve had some big news this week. Something about an estate… in Scotland?” He grinned, that easy, self-assured smile that always seemed to throw her off balance.
Heather blinked, momentarily stunned. “Mark has a bigmouth.”
Sam laughed, the sound rich and infectious. “He does, but I like him for it. So, tell me—what’s the story? A whole estate? That’s not something you hear every day.”
She hesitated, her hands clasping in her lap as she gathered her thoughts. “It’s my mom’s,” she said, her voice quieter now. “Or… it was. She passed away when I was a kid, and it’s complicated. I just found out about it and, honestly, I’m still trying to wrap my head around it. It feels… overwhelming.”
Sam’s gaze softened as they pulled up in front of the restaurant, the warm glow of string lights spilling onto the street. He parked and turned to her, his expression sincere. “That’s a lot to take in,” he said, his voice low and steady. “But, Heather…” He paused, his dark eyes meeting hers. “That’s incredible. Your mom must have been an amazing woman to leave you something meaningful.”
Her breath caught at the unexpected weight of his words. She felt the familiar tightness in her throat, the swirl of emotions threatening to rise.
“She was,” she murmured, the words barely above a whisper.
Sam stepped out of the car and quickly rounded to her side, opening the door for her before she could even move. He extended his hand to help her, and she just looked at it—strong, steady, unwavering.
“Ready?” he asked, his smile softening into something just for her.
She nodded, slipping her hand into his and letting him guide her toward the restaurant’s entrance.
The warm, golden glow of the chandeliers spilled across the restaurant, casting soft light on the polished woodfloors and crisp white tablecloths. The murmur of quiet conversation mixed with the faint strains of classical music, creating an atmosphere of understated elegance. Heather walked beside Sam as the hostess led them to a corner table near the window. The flickering candlelight reflected off the glass, giving the space a cozy, intimate feel.
Heather slid into her seat, smoothing the skirt of her dress nervously.
Sam sat across from her, his mocha-colored eyes scanning the room before landing on her.
“This place is something else,” he said, his voice low and smooth. “Have you been here before?”
She shook her head, still taking in her surroundings.
“No. I’ve always walked by and thought it looked too fancy for me.”
Sam smirked, resting his elbows on the table and leaning forward slightly. “Well, tonight, it’s just right. Besides, you deserve a little fancy.”
