Page 9 of Highland Hearts Holiday Bookshop

“It’s closed.”

“Oh, yeah, I know. It’s just that it’s, um, mine now, I guess. Well, kind of. If I stay the year. See I inherited…” I trailed off as the man tilted his head at me. Of course he wasn’t asking me for my life story. “I’m fine. Everything’s fine. Have a great night. Sorry about the, you know…” I waved my hand in the air and then, because I apparently couldn’t be trusted to speak, let alone cross a street safely, I grabbed my suitcases and all but ran down the lane. Barely noticing the charm of the narrow cobblestone path, or how it spilled out onto a large swatch of green with a single stone cottage, I almost kicked the empty flowerpot over to get to where the solicitor had told me the key would be.

My hands trembled, from cold or nerves I couldn’t be sure, and the key slipped a few times before I got the door open and dragged my two large suitcases in behind me. Slamming the door, I stood with my back to it and took a few shaky breaths.

I was scared to open my eyes.

I’d been so fixated on this one goal, this one new huge thing, thisBig Lifethat I was going to live, that I wasn’t ready to see if I’d royally screwed up by accepting this inheritance. My great-aunt Moira, apparently from my mother’s side, had wanted me to have this. It appeared she’d been trying to get in touch with me over the past few years, but my mother, fickle and harebrained that she was, had never bothered to open her mail.

Who didn’t open their mail?

The same woman who had met my father at the wedding she’d crashed with her best friend, had a one-night stand, and had never bothered to get his name. The same woman who picked up and followed a band, or a new hobby, for an entire summer at a time, largely forgetting her teenage daughter left to fend for herself. The same woman who was currently somewhere in SouthAmerica on an ayahuasca retreat to rid herself of all her traumas.

I hadn’t even known she’d left until I’d received a postcard two weeks later. It was always like that with her, and she’d flit in and out of my life like a hummingbird, and I’d come to regard her as more of an absentminded sister than a mother who offered any real guidance in life. So, no, it wasn’t a far reach that Moira hadn’t been able to find me. But it was sad that I’d never been given a chance to meet any of my kin. It wasn’t like my mother had been much for family, and I’d never met my grandparents either. Nevertheless, it had all checked out, once I’d had a lengthy call with a very kind solicitor who I’d wanted to ask if he’d be willing to adopt me as his granddaughter, and now here I was.

In Highland Hearts, dripping rain, dirt, and blood likely everywhere, my eyes screwed so tightly shut that my cheeks hurt from the tension.

This is not what the main character would do in your fantasy novel.

At that, I steeled myself and opened my eyes.

Oh, ohhhhh. Tears did spring to my eyes this time.

It was, quite simply, perfectly imperfect.

I wasn’t sure I would have been able to handle it if the shop had been all glossy and sophisticated. But no. No,thiswas a shop that a heart could warm to. Give me curious corners cluttered with odds and ends and nooks piled high with pillows and stacks of books over sleek and pristine any day. A bookshop should be a discovery, an adventure of sorts, and Moira, it seemed, hadunderstood that. A single lamp had been placed on a mahogany table with a red leather high-back chair tucked behind a vintage cash register. The lamp, with a fringed shade and holes cut in the fabric to resemble stars, beamed warmth into the shop. A beacon of welcome. I crossed slowly over to the table Moira must have used as her check-out counter. A note, along with a small bottle of whisky and a tin of shortbread cookies, sat beneath the lamp.

Welcome to Kingsbarns, Rosie. I’ve turned the heat on, and you’ll find your wee flat at the back of the shop. The village is looking forward to having the shop open once more. We hope you’ll make a happy home here. Regards, William Stuart.

The solicitor had been kind enough to leave a welcome gift for me. I smiled gently, trailing a finger over the table, noting that I’d still need to give the place a solid clean. Next to the note was a stack of leather-bound notebooks, which I assumed would be Moira’s ledgers, and I would make sure to dive into those first thing tomorrow. But first, I needed to get my bearings. Things needed to be done in order, of course, and I couldn’t just jump into running the business when I hadn’t even unpacked, could I? Reminding myself that I’d made a list of tasks to accomplish on my arrival, I pulled out my phone and scanned my next task.

Unpack, shower, make sure all the doors were locked.

I hadn’t exactly budgeted time in my list of to-dos to wander around the shop in awe, dreaming over all the curiosities I was sure to uncover.

But I was the boss now. Surely, I could just give myself a moment to explore. The shop was just too charming to breeze right past it and put my clothes away.

“Just a few moments. Then I’ll get back on schedule.” Jessica would be kicking me right now, likely dragging me back out in the rain to try and find more hot Scotsmen, and as if on cue my phone rang. Answering, I beamed as Jessica gaped at me.

“What happened? You’re all dirty.”

I’d already forgotten my fall in the puddle with the distraction of my new shop.

“It’s nothing. I fell in a puddle. And then ran face first into the finest man I’ve ever seen in my life. Covered in blood and dirt. But never mind that. Look, Jess, just look!” I turned the camera around on my already blabbering best friend, stopping her questions with a view of the shop as I walked around. The bookshop was essentially one big room, but bookshelves created a maze of sorts so every time you turned a corner there was a new little nook to be discovered. Vintage chairs upholstered in turquoise and mustard flower fabric were tucked into one corner beneath a window piled high with books, a lamp, and vases of dried flowers. In another corner, a disco unicorn head was mounted on the wall, and velvet floor poufs to curl up and read on were scattered on a fadedjade oriental rug.

“Oh my God,” Jess breathed. “You’re never coming back, are you?”

“It’s incredible, Jess. Just like…look.” I held the phone up to show the stone walls and thick beams that crossed the ceiling. “The building itself has to be from the 1800s.”

“I wonder if it is haunted.”

“I could only be so lucky.” I loved ghost stories, which in turn fueled my love for fantasy and paranormal romance, and I’d always secretly wanted to experience a ghostly encounter in real life.

“Onlyyouwould wish that. Seriously though, I need you to back up and tell me about that man. And why you aren’t currently having a drink with him somewhere. Did he meet any of the criteria on our list?”

“You mean the man I bled on and then accidentally kissed on the shoulder? The one who practically ran away from me? That one?” I was going to ignore her comment about the list we’d made for the type of man I was looking for in my life. As noted before, I couldn’t be trusted to pick a man for myself.

“I mean, yes, I suppose that doesn’t make for a great start. But hey, at least you know there are hot men in town.”

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