Page 55 of A Scottish Highland Hideaway

Astrid. Jealousy pierced me in the chest. I moved out from behind the counter towards him. I was fighting to look unphased. “Any preferences?”

Not that it was any of my business and I didn’t care either way.

“No. I was hoping you might have one or two suggestions.” Zach pushed his hands into his trouser pockets. “I read a while back that the Victorians were really keen on giving flowers that had a specific meaning.”

I strode over to a corner of one of my new winter displays, which housed a spray of cream and white tea roses, mingled with berries and twigs. I wished I could pass Zach over to one of the girls to deal with. This was excruciating. “That’s right. They were. All flowers have a specific meaning.” I straightened my back. “What flower you choose really depends on what she means to you and what message you’re trying to convey.”

Zach drew up beside me, his intent brown eyes scanning the blooms I was pointing at.

“I want to get her something a bit different. I’m not bothered about the cost.”

Ram it down my throat, why don’t you?!

I tossed a frosty glance at him. I felt childish, but couldn’t help myself. “I do everything I can to keep the prices of my stock at a reasonable level. I’m not in the habit of trying to rip off my customers.”

Zach blinked at me. “I’m sure you don’t.”

God, this is horrible.

A part of me was tempted to recommend something like yellow carnations, which signify rejection, but I reminded myself that I was a professional. Or at least, I was supposed to be.

In the end, my conscience took over. “If I were you, I’d go for something like this.” I picked out one of our frilly sugar-pink camellias and tried to conceal the pain in my voice. “They represent love and missing someone.” I cast a long look at Zach and buried a sudden ball of emotion. “I love the scalloped petals. They remind me of a rose but have a bit more attitude about them.”

I touched the petals, losing myself for a moment in their deep, riven shape.

I looked up and noticed Zach was staring down at me, an indecipherable expression on his face.

I was certain Astrid would love the camellia. It never failed to lift my spirits.

Zach gestured to the flower. “Thanks. It’s lovely. I’ll get this one then.”

He offered me an odd smile, but I struggled to return it. In the end, the smile I did finally manage to conjure up must have made me look like my bra was too tight.

I made my way back behind the counter, cradling the camellia in my arms and proceeded to put Zach’s purchase through the till.

He pointed over at a couple of our Christmas wreaths for sale, decorated with satin tartan ribbons. “I’d better not bring Astrid in here. I’d never get her out again!”

I snatched some pretty cerise ribbon from under the counter and tied it around the pot of the plant to dress it up a bit. “Oh, please do,” I said through bared teeth, not meaning a word of it. “The more custom, the better.”

“I guess that’s true,” he said, his eyes lingering on me. “Bailey, is everything ok?”

I pushed the credit card machine towards him. “Absolutely.” I gave a rictus grin. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

Zach finished paying and returned his credit card to his leather wallet. I imagined Astrid to be some willowy Scandinavian goddess.

“Buying something for a seventy-year-old church elder is a bit of a minefield!”

My envious thoughts juddered to a halt. I gawped up at him. “Sorry?”

“Astrid,” he said, as though I should’ve known all along. “Astrid Connor. She’s a lovely woman. She’s staying in my hotel at the moment while her house is being redecorated. She’s lonely, poor thing, so she’s been popping to my suite to talk to me, mostly about her late husband, who was a Fleet Street reporter back in the day.”

I clutched at the edge of the counter, my horrified cheeks zinging with colour at Zach as he continued to explain. “She happened to pass by my hotel room when I was letting myself in,” Zach continued to explain. “I get occasional migraines and last nights was a real doozy. Astrid made sure I got into my room ok and proceeded to administer water and fetched me painkillers. Even when I started to feel a bit better and wanted to make a few calls, she insisted she stay a little longer to make sure I was all right. I suggested she stay and have a coffee with me.”

I listened, trying not to show my complete embarrassment at getting it so wrong.

“She said I remind her of her son, who lives in Texas,” Zach went on. He indicated the plant, now cradled in his muscular arms. “I just wanted to get her something to show my appreciation.”

I winced. What a lovely thing to do. I’d been marching around like a hormonal schoolgirl who’d just learnt her pop star crush had a girlfriend. I wanted the ground to swallow me whole. I’d been having murderous thoughts over a kind church elder?