Page 72 of Of Heather and Thistle
She wasn’t used to feeling this way around someone she barely knew—comfortable, playful, like she didn’t have to measure every word before speaking.
Flynn had a way of making her feel like she belonged, as if being here wasn’t just some random twist of fate, but exactly where she was meant to be.
Would Ivy see that, too? Probably.
But Ivy, for all her dazzling charisma, wasn’t the one sanding floors, climbing ladders, and figuring out how to turn this crumbling house into a home.
Ivy hadn’t stood in her mother’s childhood bedroom, holding onto pieces of the past while trying to figure out what to do with her future.
Heather glanced at Flynn again, watching how the afternoon sunlight caught in his dark hair as he leaned back to inspect his work. He wiped a hand across his forehead, smearing a streak of sawdust across his skin.
“Okay,” he said, standing with a crooked grin. “That doorframe might not win any beauty contests, but at least it won’t collapse on you.”
Heather smiled back, a familiar flutter in her stomach. “Looks like you’ve got a real gift there.”
Flynn raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. “Careful with the compliments—I might start charging extra.”
She gasped, pressing a hand to her chest. “Shouldn’t I get some sort of loyalty bonus?”
He laughed, shaking his head as he wiped his hands on a nearby cloth. “You drive a hard bargain, Campbell.”
As he stepped closer, Heather caught herselfwondering—what would it be like to just… what? Run her fingers through his hair? Kiss him?
The thought sent warmth rushing to her cheeks. She shook it away.
Flynn didn’t notice her inner turmoil, which was both a relief and a disappointment. Instead, he was focused on cleaning up the remnants of his work, his voice casual. “Ye alright there, lass?” Heather cleared her throat, forcing herself to act normal. “Oh, I’m fine. Just, uh… taking it all in.”
“Taking in my superior craftsmanship, you mean,” Flynn teased, flashing his disarming grin. “It’s alright. Most people are speechless in the presence of genius.” Heather snorted, rolling her eyes. “Right. Genius-level door frame repair. You’ll be in all the architecture magazines next month, I’m sure.”
“Hey,” Flynn said, feigning offense. “I’ll have you know, I’ve worked on some of the finest estates in the Highlands. Glenoran might be a bit of a fixer-upper, but this place has good bones. And you’ve got me, so you’re in excellent hands.” The teasing edge to his voice made her smile despite herself. “Modesty really isn’t your strong suit, is it?”
“Not when it comes to my work,” Flynn replied with a wink. Then, with a clap of his hands, he straightened up. “Alright, back to it. Let’s see if you’re brave enough to tackle the paintbrush. You up for the challenge?” Heather laughed, shaking off the sudden weight of emotion. “I don’t know, Flynn. Paintbrushes are pretty advanced. Are you sure I’m ready?”
“Oh, you’ll be fine,” he said, grabbing a can of primer and handing it to her. “Just don’t get it all over yourself. Or yourwee beastie over there.”
He nodded toward the foyer as Byrdie strode in, oblivious to what she’d just walked into.
Heather took the can, raising an eyebrow. “I make no promises.”
As they worked side by side, the steady rhythm of the task—and Flynn’s constant banter—kept her grounded. There was something easy about being around him, like she didn’t have to overthink everything.
Maybe, just maybe, that was precisely what she needed.
Flynn moved to reattach a loose banister, his hands steady and precise. Heather watched for a moment, marveling at how effortless he made it seem.
Once it was secure, he dusted off his hands and smirked. “There—no more wobbly stairs. You won’t have to worry about breaking your neck on your midnight trips to the kitchen.”
“Good to know,” Heather said with a smirk. “Though I’m starting to think you’re just trying to eliminate all the ways I could embarrass myself.”
Flynn grinned. “Call it preventative care. You’re a magnet for trouble, Campbell.”
He moved to the fireplace, crouching to clear out debris and check the flue. “This’ll need a proper sweep before you light anything, but it’s not as bad as I thought.” Standing, he wiped his hands on a rag. “With a bit of TLC, this place will start feeling like a home again.”
Heather felt a little lighter at his words. “It already feels more manageable with you here.”
“Well, don’t get too comfortable. The roof’s another story,” Flynn said, more serious now. “There are a couple of leaksthat need patching immediately. I’ll bring my crew out tomorrow to get started. That’s priority number one—keeping this place dry.”
“Sounds good,” Heather replied, appreciating his take-charge attitude.
