Page 41 of A Scottish Highland Surprise

“Of course. You’re buying it.”

I blushed again and untied the string. The paper fell away to reveal the sweeps of watercolour. I marvelled at the way he had captured the light and shadows smudging across the teapot and teacups. There was even the odd chip and dent in the shabby wooden farmhouse table. “It’s even more gorgeous, seeing it in person,” I breathed.

Jake Caldwell’s gaze lingered on my face. “It’s always lovely to have your work appreciated. Thank you.”

There was a charged silence.

“So,” I said brightly, clapping my hands together. Why had I just done that? I must have looked like an idiot! The sound echoed around the empty shop like a gun going off. I cleared my throat. “What payment method would you prefer?”

Jake dashed a hand over his cropped dark blond hair. “Is a bank transfer okay?”

“Absolutely.”

Once he had presented me with his bank account details, I insisted on transferring the money from my account to his straightaway.

Jake protested there was no immediate rush, but I shook my head. “No. I really would rather pay you now, and then I know where I am with my finances.”

He gave a slight smile. “That’s appreciated. Thank you.” He took in the shop surroundings. “So not long till you open then?”

“No. We officially open on 30th June, so less than three weeks. I’m really looking forward to it.”

He flashed a winning smile. “I’m sure it will be a success.”

“I hope so.”

“What business were you in before?”

It felt almost as though I were talking about someone else. “I was a wedding planner up at Castle Marrian. I decided to do something different,” I added.

His attention lingered on my face for a few more seconds. “I’m sure you’ll make a success of whatever you turn your hand to.” Then he delivered a million-dollar smile, still appraising me. I gazed at his Slavic features, all sharp cheekbones and golden hair. Was I imagining it, or was Jake Caldwell flirting with me? Bloody hell! I was so out of practice with this sort of thing, it was embarrassing.

Now it was Jake Caldwell’s turn to clap his hands for no discernible reason. It must be catching, like ’flu.

“Right. Well, I’ll head off now.” He strode towards the door, then paused. He looked over his shoulder at me, his gaze warm. “I think I may have to drop by when you open. I could do with a new teapot.”

The mischievous spark in his eyes made me grin. “Please do. It won’t be anything fancy, but I’m marking the opening with warm scones and tea.”

Jake’s eyes locked with mine. “How can I refuse an invitation like that? Count me in.”

He dipped one hand inside his leather jacket, took out a business card and slid it across the white-painted counter.

“I’ve already got your number.”

Jake’s smile was teasing. “This is a back-up. I would hate for you to lose it.” His eyes danced. “And you will need to find out what flavour scones I like.”

Then he walked out with a confident swagger.

Chapter Twenty

3rd July 1970, Briar Glen

The last couple of weeks had vanished for Helena.

She carried on as normal, getting Marnie ready for and taking her to school, before hurrying off down the road, leaving the chattering playground noise behind her to go to work.

On Tuesdays and Thursdays, when she wasn’t at work, she found herself looking forward to the following day. In her head, she would come up with promotional sales gimmicks to suggest to Mrs Auld or conjure up ideas for the crockery displays.

A couple of times, Marnie would appraise her mother with questioning blue eyes. “You look pretty, Mummy. Where are you going?”