Page 49 of Of Heather and Thistle
The tow truck driver appeared in the doorway, giving a quick nod. “It’s no trouble. I have plenty of room in the cab, and I’ll ensure ye get there safely.”
She hesitated. The fire crackled behind Flynn, its golden light flickering over the room, casting soft shadows along the wooden beams. The warmth of the cottage still clung to her skin, the scent of cedar and tea settling deep in her chest. Outside, the rain seemed to soften slightly, as if the storm itself were hesitating—urging her to linger just a moment longer.
Flynn stood just inside, arms crossed, watching her. There was nothing in his expression that asked her to stay—but something about the way he held her gaze made her hesitate all the same. It was nothing, she told herself. Just a stranger seeing another stranger off.
Still, the moment stretched between them, thick with something unspoken.
Flynn gave a small, knowing smile. “Safe journey, lass.”
Heather swallowed, nodding. “And… thanks. For everything.” She hesitated, then added, “Oh—my clothes. The ones I left in the bathroom. Just… burn them.”
Flynn smirked. “Aye, I’ll give them a proper Highland sendoff.”
She huffed a quiet laugh, then bent to scoop up Byrdie from her cozy spot near the fireplace. The cat let out a grumpy littlemrrowas Heather tucked her gently back into the carrier. Nearby, her mud-caked sneakers sat in a defeated heap by the door. She shot Flynn a sheepish look. “I should probably take those, too. Can’t leave you with all my baggage. Emotional or otherwise.”
Flynn raised a brow. “More’s the pity. I was gonna bronze them.”
Heather rolled her eyes but grabbed the shoes anyway, holding them at arm’s length as she stepped toward the door.
The night air hit her with a biting chill, the steady drizzle creeping beneath her borrowed clothes and raising goosebumps along her skin. She ducked her head against the wind and climbed into the tow truck, her bare feet cold against the worn rubber mat while she cradled Byrdie’s carrier on her lap.
Flynn was still there, standing in the doorway, watching her go.
Heather turned back, finding Alastair still standing by Flynn’s porch, hands tucked into his coat pockets.
“Hey, Alastair?”
He looked up, the drizzle catching in his salt-and-pepper hair.
Heather offered a small smile. “Thanks… for everything.”
Alastair waved. “Just try to stay out of trouble from hereon out, aye?”
Heather groaned. “Never living that down, am I?”
“Not a chance.” He tipped an imaginary hat. “God go wi’ ye, lass.”
The tow truck engine rumbled to life, and as Heather reached for the door handle, Alastair’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He glanced at the screen and nodded. “That’ll be my ride. One of the lads from Inverness is swingin’ by.”
Relief loosened the last bit of tension in her chest. “Good. I’d hate to be the reason you ended up stranded, too.”
“Och, I’d have been fine,” he said with a wink. “But I appreciate the concern.”
She huffed a quiet laugh and shut the door. As the truck pulled away, she caught one last glimpse of Flynn’s cottage, its windows glowing warm against the storm, before both Alastair and Flynn turned and disappeared back inside.
She hoped this wouldn’t be the last time she’d see Flynn Duncan.
* * *
The drive to Inverness was quiet, save for the truck’s steady hum and the rhythmic rain tapping against the windshield. The driver, a middle aged man with a thick, broad Scots accent, kept his eyes on the road. He had a weathered face—the kind that had seen its fair share of long nights and hard work—with deep set eyes that flicked between the road and his passengers. His wiry frame was bundled in a heavy jacket, the collar turned up against the cold, and a short, grizzled beard framed his mouth as he broke the silence.
“Yer headed tae Glenoran House, aye? Ye’ve got yer workcut out for ye, lassie. Big place like that’s bound to need some fixin’-up.”
Heather offered a faint smile, though her stomach knotted. “I guess I’ll find out soon enough.”
He chortled. “Aye, well, ye picked a hell of a night for it. It’s pishin’ doon out there! Proper Highland welcome, that.”
Heather let out a breathy laugh. “Yeah, I got that impression.”
