For a moment, the only sound was the soft patter of snow against the window.
“So,” I said finally, folding my arms. “You’re here about the sale.”
He nodded once. “That’s right. I understand this is difficult news, Miss Hart, but I assure you, I’m not here to make things harder. My role is simply to oversee the transition and ensure everything is handled properly.”
That word again.Properly.
I leaned back slightly, the edge of the table pressing against my palms. “Properly,” I repeated. “Is that the same as being fair? Or kind? Because I can’t say any of this feels particularly lovely.”
A faint crease appeared between his brows. “I didn’t mean to sound clinical. The sale was arranged by my late grandfather’s estate trustees before I took over. The properties in Pine Hollow are part of his holdings–yours included.”
“Then change it,” I said simply.
He blinked, as if he hadn’t expected me to say it so plainly.
“I can’t,” he said after a pause. “It isn’t that straightforward.”
“It never is, is it?” I let out a slow breath, trying to keep my voice steady. “You see a list of properties. I see my home. My grandmother's and mum’s legacy. Every late night, every loaf, every part of my life. So, forgive me if I don’t find comfort in the wordtransition.”
Something flickered in his expression then, guilt, maybe, or empathy he was trying not to show. He looked down at his untouched tea, tracing the rim with his thumb.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “Truly. I know that doesn’t fix anything, but I am.”
The sincerity in his voice caught me off guard. It wasn’t rehearsed or distant; it sounded like he actually meant it. I glanced at him properly for the first time. Not the suit, or the coat, or the polished city veneer, but the man hiding underneath. There were faint shadows under his eyes, a tension in his shoulders that hadn’t eased since he’d walked in. He looked tired, worn down in a way that went deeper than the long journey.
“Why are you even here?” I asked before I could stop myself. “You could’ve handled this all from London.”
He hesitated, then sighed. “Because I made a promise to my grandfather to see his affairs through properly, personally. He loved this town. I didn’t realise how much until I came here.”
That surprised me. “He lived here?”
“For a few years, yes. After retiring. He bought several properties and said the Highlands were good for the soul.”
“And you don’t agree?”
His mouth quivered faintly, though not quite into a smile. “My soul prefers central heating.”
Despite myself, a small laugh escaped me. The sound startled both of us.
The corner of his mouth lifted properly then, just for a moment, and I saw a glimpse of something almost boyish beneath all that London polish. It unsettled me, how human he seemed.
“I’ll speak with the solicitors,” he said after a pause. “See what flexibility there might be. I can’t promise anything yet, but… I’ll try.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. No one from his world ever saidI’ll try.
“Thank you,” I said softly.
He stood then, picking up his gloves. “I should find the hotel. The roads are getting worse, and I’ve already proven I’m entirely unsuited to driving on ice.”
I smiled faintly. “You might want to trade those shoes for something with grip.”
He glanced down at his sleek leather brogues, then back up at me, and for the first time since he’d entered, his expression eased into genuine warmth.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
The bell over the front door jingled faintly as he left, the cold spilling into the bakery for a heartbeat before the door swung shut again. I stood there, motionless, listening to the snow against the window.
Part of me still wanted to dislike him, he might take everything from me. But another, smaller part… I wasn't sure I could.
