Page 23 of Of Heather and Thistle

Heather shifted in her borrowed clothes, still damp and clinging uncomfortably, but her focus landed on Flynn.

He was tall—easily over six feet—and built like someone who knew the value of hard work.

His broad shoulders stretched the fabric of his plain gray shirt, and the damp ends of his dark brown hair curled slightly at his temples from when he’d braved the storm himself.

A stubbled beard shadowed his jaw, adding to the rugged, effortless charm.

But it was his eyes that caught her most—starkly blue, yet warm, holding her gaze with a quiet attentiveness she wasn’t used to.

Not assessing, not appraising—just seeing.

It threw her off balance in a way she couldn’t quite name, like she’d stepped onto unsteady ground.

She told herself it was nothing, just a stranger being polite, but the feeling lingered.

He leaned back against the counter again with his arms crossed, the muscles in his forearms flexing just slightly while she looked him over.

“So, Heather Campbell,” he said, tilting his head, “what exactly brings ye and yer cat to the middle of nowhere Scotland? Besides a run-in with my cows, of course.”

Heather flushed, a mixture of embarrassment and awareness bubbling under her skin. “Long story short? I’m on my way to Glenoran House. It’s… well, it’s a family property. Judging by how my night’s gone, I’m beginning to think the universe has other plans.”

Flynn raised an eyebrow, a new grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Glenoran House? That explains the luggage in the car—and yer determination to trek through a pasture in the middle of a downpour.” His voice was deep, his Scottish accent wrapping around the words in a way that quickened Heather’s pulse.

“…though I have to say, ye dinnae exactly seem like the fixer-upper type.”

Heather blinked at him, wiping rainwater from her forehead. “You know the property? Glenoran?”

“Aye,” he replied. “It’s in Inverness—just the next town over. Big place. Stands out, even around here. People talk about it like it’s a landmark or something.”

Heather nodded, feeling a tiny flicker of relief. “That’s the one. It’s my family’s estate on my mother’s side. I’ve never been, though. This is… kind of my first trip to Scotland.”

Flynn tilted his head, his green eyes studying her thoughtfully. “Yer first time here, and ye landed in the middle of nowhere, soaking wet, dodging cows? You’ve made quite the entrance.”

Heather let out a soft laugh, though her cheeks flushed again with embarrassment. “Not exactly the trip I imagined. I was supposed to get there today, but… well, like I said, things haven’t exactly gone to plan. ”

“They rarely do,” Flynn said with a shrug. “But yer closer than ye think. Inverness isn’t far, maybe another half hour or so from here—once yer car’s sorted, anyway.”

Heather exhaled, relief washing over her. “That’s good to hear. I was starting to wonder if I’d made a huge mistake coming here.”

“Nah,” Flynn said, his voice steady. “Yer just getting yer welcome to the Highlands, that’s all. Rain, cows, and a bit of chaos—it’s part of the charm.” His lips twitched into a smirk. “Next time, maybe skip the pasture. Ye dinnae have the right footwear.”

Heather stared at the oversized flannel and loose sweatpants she’d borrowed, then back up at him, her lips curving into a wry smile. “Noted. I’ll keep that in mind for future adventures.”

Flynn chuckled, the sound warm and easy. “Good. Now, once the rain lets up, we’ll get ye back to your car—or at least figure something out. Glenoran’s not going anywhere.”

Heather’s smile faded as she studied the window, where the downpour remained steady against the glass. “Alastair’s been gone for ages. He said he’d try to find help, but what if he’s stuck somewhere in this weather? I feel terrible just sitting here.”

Flynn’s brow furrowed slightly. “Alastair—your driver, I assume?”

She nodded. “Yes. The car broke down just after we passed the last town. He decided to walk back when no one passed us on the road, but now it’s been so long…”

“If he made it back to the town, he’s likely holed up somewhere warm, waiting this out. Most folks around here wouldn’t turn a man away in weather like this.” His voice was calm and reassuring, but Heather couldn’t help the knot of guilt in her stomach.

“I just… I don’t like the idea of him out there,” she said, fidgeting with the hem of the flannel shirt Flynn had lent her.

Flynn tilted his head again, with a faint smile playing on his lips.

“Ye’ve got a good heart, Campbell. But he’s a grown man—he’ll manage.

Besides, ye’ve got your own storm to weather.

” He gestured to her damp hair, still clinging to her neck.

“Though I have to say, yer pulling off the drowned-kitten look; it actually looks quite good!”

Heather laughed again despite herself, the tension in her shoulders easing just a little. “Thanks, I’ll add that to my list of glowing compliments tonight.”

“Hey, it’s a rare club!” Flynn teased, his green eyes sparkling with humor. “And for the record, I’d say ye handled the whole thing admirably. Most people wouldn’t have made it to the door, let alone knocked on it.”

“Admirably is a stretch,” Heather said, shaking her head. “I’m pretty sure I looked like a lunatic charging through that field. Honestly, I was about two seconds away from turning around when I stepped in—well, you know…” She grimaced, and Flynn let out a knowing laugh.

“Ye’ve got grit, lass. I’ll give you that,” he said, his smile softening. “And I’ll admit, it’s been a while since I’ve had company out here. Yer a bit of a surprise tonight.”

Heather arched a brow, her lips curving into a playful smile. “Oh, you weren’t expecting a soaking wet American to show up at your door in the middle of a storm?”

Flynn pretended to think momentarily, his hand rubbing his stubbly jaw. “Not exactly on my bingo card for the evening, no. But I’d say it’s a welcome surprise. Definitely beats spending the night alone with a bottle of whisky and the rain for company.”

She laughed, her cheeks warming at his casual charm. “Glad I could spice up your evening. Though, to be fair, Byrdie is technically your guest too. Don’t forget her!”

“Ah, yes, how could I forget the infamous Byrdie?” Flynn said with a grin. “I reckon she’s more polite than most of the tourists I’ve met, so she’s welcome to stay as long as you like.”

From her carrier, Byrdie let out a pointed little mrrow —a sound that was distinctly unimpressed. Heather set Byrdie’s carrier down near the fireplace, opening the door so she could stretch her legs. ‘Sorry, girl, I wasn’t exactly prepared for a detour.’

She glanced at Flynn. ‘Got a spare dish? She’s gonna stage a coup if I don’t feed her soon.’”

Byrdie let out another mrrow , this time softer—almost like a challenge.

Heather sighed dramatically, shaking her head as she unlatched the carrier door. “Oh, she already expects it. You’ve just sealed your fate.”

Byrdie stepped out hesitantly, stretching her front paws before arching into a long, luxurious stretch. With a flick of her tail, she trotted toward the fireplace, as if claiming the coziest spot in the room as her rightful throne.

Flynn huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he moved toward the kitchen. “Well, as long as she doesnae start demandin’ room service…”

Heather smirked, watching Byrdie sniff at the hearth before settling in front of the warmth. “Too late. She already owns the place.”

Flynn cast a glance over his shoulder, amusement tugging at his lips before he tucked into the kitchen.

Heather let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, her gaze lingering on him for a beat too long.

He was rugged in a way she wasn’t used to—confident, but without the arrogance that so often came with it.

His presence had an easy steadiness, the kind that made everything feel a little less chaotic.

And his grin—damn his grin—had a way of making her forget just how much of a mess she was at the moment.

Heather sat down at the small kitchen table, again brushing her still-damp curls away from her face as Flynn turned to check the kettle that was staying warm on the stove.

The rhythmic patter of the rain against the windows filled the space, punctuated by the occasional crackle of the fire in the hearth.

Despite the situation, the scent of woodsmoke wrapped around her, the warmth melting into her frozen skin.

She should’ve felt out of place in someone else’s home, yet for the first time all night, the shivering in her bones started to ease.

“So…” Flynn said, breaking the silence. “What’s the full story with Glenoran House? I don’t often meet Americans venturing out here, let alone ones aiming for a place like that.”

Heather hesitated, wrapping her hands around the warm mug he’d placed before her.

“Well, like I said: it belonged to my family—on my mom’s side.

But I didn’t even know it existed until recently.

My mom passed away when I was a kid, and my dad…

well, he didn’t exactly tell me much about her side of the family.

After he passed last month, I found out about the house.

” She shrugged, her voice soft. “It felt like a sign. A chance to… start over, I guess.”

Flynn’s expression softened, the teasing glint in his eyes replaced by something gentler.

“I’m sorry for yer loss…” He pu lled out a chair and sat across from her at the kitchen table, his voice quieter now.

“…but picking up and coming all this way? That’s brave.

Not everyone would take that kind of leap. ”