Page 62 of Of Heather and Thistle
The leak was just the beginning, and if she was going to tackle the repairs on this place, she needed professional help. She remembered Mr. Duncan mentioning his son had a business restoring historic homes. This was her chance to get some advice, at the very least. She dialed Mr. Duncan’s number, pacing the room while waiting for him to pick up. After a few rings, his familiar voice came through.
“Good morning, Miss Campbell,” Mr. Duncan said, sounding cheery. “I trust you’ve survived the night in the house?”
Heather let out a small chuckle despite the frustration building up. “I’ve survived, but it’s a challenge. I was hoping you could help me out with something.” She hesitated before continuing. “You mentioned your son runs a business restoring historic homes. I was wondering if he could help with some repairs here. I’m starting to see just how much work this place needs.”
There was a slight pause on the other end before Mr. Duncan responded. “Aye, that he does. He’s got a company in Inverness that specializes in these kinds of projects. The office is in Inverness. Duncan Restorations. I’ll send ye the address.”
“Thank you, Mr. Duncan. I appreciate it,” Heather said,feeling a glimmer of hope.
He replied, “I’ll text ye the details now. Best to pop in and speak with them directly. They can give ye a good idea of what’s needed.”
She felt a bit lighter after the conversation and was starting to see a path forward, even if it was still hazy. The house wasn’t going to fix itself, and while she didn’t know exactly how much needed to be done, she was confident she couldn’t take on such a vast project alone.“Thanks again, Mr. Duncan. I’ll head over soon.”
“Aye, take care now.” With that, Heather ended the call, quickly pulling up her messages to find the text from Mr. Duncan. Sure enough, he had sent the address for Duncan Restorations in Inverness. She glanced at the clock—mid-morning already. Maybe it was time to make a trip into town. The house had enough work to keep her busy, but she needed a professional opinion. It would also allow her to explore the city more and get a feel for things.
Heather’s car hummed steadily as she drove down the winding road toward Inverness, her thoughts still swirling around the house. The rain had stopped, leaving the air fresh and crisp, with the scent of wet earth clinging to the ground. The town was only a short drive away, and she felt a slight sense of relief at the thought of a change of scenery. The roads leading into Inverness were lined with tall trees and scattered cottages, giving way to the quaint, cobbled streets as she approached the heart of the town. It felt like a mix of modern life and old world charm, with its small shops and cafes nestled between towering stone buildings. She found a place to park near a bustling square. She took a moment to appreciate the town’s vibrancy—people walking along thesidewalks, a market setting up in the corner, and the faint sounds of music spilling out from the pub she visited the night before.
As she walked down the street, she passed by a few stores, her attention briefly caught by the mix of antiques and local wares. The town had a certain warmth, a welcoming quality that contrasted with her isolation when she first arrived at the estate. It reminded her of the cozy little bookstore she used to manage back home, with the smell of fresh paper and a sense of familiarity.
Duncan Restorations was located just a few blocks down, a modest office nestled between two more significant buildings. The name on the door was simple and understated, but Heather felt a jolt of hope seeing it. Heather pushed open the door to Duncan Restorations, her thoughts already spinning with the possibilities of restoring Glenoran House. The bell above the door chimed softly as she stepped inside, the scent of wood and freshly printed plans filling the air. Her eyes scanned the office, filled with framed blueprints and historical photographs of buildings. She hadn’t expected much—but what she saw was beyond anything she imagined. The room was a perfect blend of professionalism and comfort. But what honestly threw her off was the man sitting behind the desk.
Flynn.
Her heart stuttered. What the hell washedoing here?
He looked just as surprised to see her as she felt, his eyebrows raising in genuine astonishment.“Well, if it isn’t Miss Campbell,” Flynn said, his voice warm with surprise.
Heather blinked, completely thrown off. “Flynn? What are you doing here?”
Heather’s brain felt like it had short-circuited. The man who had seen her in transparent pants was now supposed to fix her house? A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth, though something about how he looked at her told her he was trying to mask a more profound recognition.
He straightened, offering her a slight bow as he leaned against the desk. “I work here,” he said casually, a soft chuckle escaping him as he spoke. “I own the company.”
Heather stared at Flynn, her brain momentarily freezing as she tried to process the information. Flynn—the guy who’d rescued her from the rain-soaked, cow poop fiasco—was running Duncan Restorations? Her mind finally caught up, and the realization clicked.
Flynn Duncan.
“Wait,” she blurted, pointing at him. “Your dad—Charles Duncan—is the one who sent me here?”
Flynn gave a lopsided smirk, amusement flickering in his blue eyes. “Aye. He mentioned someone would be coming by, but he didnae say it wasyou,the woman who made the most dramatic entrance into Scotland I’ve ever seen.” He let out a low chuckle. “I’d have rolled out the red carpet if I’d known.”
Heather huffed a laugh, shaking her head as the full picture settled in. Of course, Flynn was Mr. Duncan’s son. She should’ve put that together sooner. It wasn’t exactly a common last name. And yet, looking at him now—yeah, she could see it. The resemblance was there. Same sharp jawline. Same assessing gaze.
Heather raised an eyebrow. “Would it have changed anything?”
His grin turned a shade cockier. “Might’ve had the ladstidy up a bit. Or at least prepared a speech about why I’m the best man for the job.” Flynn leaned back in his chair with a grin that could’ve come straight out of a rom-com, his eyes glinting with mischief. “I’m full of surprises,” he said, giving her a wink. “You’d be surprised to hear I do more than muck about with cows and rescue damsels in distress.”
Heather raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. “Ah, a humble brag. So, it turns out men across the pond share that particular trait, too. Good to know.”
Flynn laughed, clearly enjoying her sass. And God help her, she was enjoying it too. She was here to fix a house, not develop a ridiculous appreciation for the way a man smirked like he had all the time in the world. “If it helps, I usually need rescuing—mostly from my own bad decisions.”
She chuckled, the initial shock of the situation melting into something a little more comfortable. “Well, that makes two of us. First, I get lost in the middle of nowhere. Then, I wreck my new shoes stepping in cow shit. Oh, and let’s not forget the wardrobe malfunction.”
Flynn’s grin widened. “Ah, yes. The legendary transparent pants incident. I’ll admit, that’s a first for me. But at least you didn’t getstuckin the cow pen. That could’ve been a whole different level of embarrassing.”
Heather groaned, rolling her eyes. “Please, don’t give me any ideas. I’m already traumatized enough.”
Flynn’s grin grew wider. “Well, I must admit, I’ve never had someone make such a memorable first impression. The pants incident alone could be a story for the ages.”
