He nodded, snow settling on the dark wool of his coat. “I understand. I didn’t come here to cause trouble, believe it or not.”
“Then why did you?”
He gave a soft huff of laughter, shaking his head. “Because I’m stubborn. And because my grandpa would’ve haunted me if I’d left his affairs unfinished.”
Something about that answer made my lips twitch. “You don’t seem the type to believe in hauntings.”
“I didn’t. Until I got here.”
The faintest smile found its way to my face. It felt strange, after the day I’d had. “Maybe Pine Hollow’s changing you already.”
“Terrifying thought,” he murmured, but his eyes warmed a little.
The square was almost silent now, the air thick with snow. The only sound was the soft chime of the church bell far down the street. He looked out toward it, then back at me, his expression softer than I’d seen before.
“I leave tomorrow,” he said. “But I’d like to think we could part on decent terms. I meant what I said earlier, I’ll see what I can do about the bakery. Even if it’s just buying you time.”
A lump formed in my throat before I could swallow it down. “You don’t owe me that.”
“Maybe not,” he said quietly. “But I want to do something.”
For a moment, I didn’t trust myself to answer. The snow kept falling, the world turning faintly golden beneath the lamplight. He looked almost unreal in it, this man from London, standingin the middle of our little Highland square, apologising under the snow.
“Thank you,” I said at last, my voice softer than I intended.
He inclined his head slightly, a gesture both formal and oddly sincere. The wind tugged a loose strand of hair from my scarf, brushing it across my face.
He hesitated, then said, “Your accent–it isn’t what I expected. Not quite Highlander.”
I blinked, surprised by the question. “That’s because it’s not,” I said lightly. “I moved to London with my dad when I was twelve and stayed after high school to study, believe it or not. In culinary school.”
His eyebrows lifted slightly, genuine interest sparking there. “Really? And you traded that for a bakery in the snowy mountains?”
“Not exactly by choice.” I smiled faintly, though it didn’t quite reach my eyes. “When my mum fell ill, I came home to help her run the place. I kept thinking I’d go back–finish what I started, maybe open a restaurant one day.”
My breath clouded the air, fading quickly. “But she passed away three years ago. The bakery became… mine. Whether I was ready or not.”
Oliver’s expression softened, and for a moment, the usual professionalism slipped away. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“Not your fault,” I said quietly. “This town looked after me. They’ve been my family ever since.” I looked up at him then, letting my voice strengthen. “So if you plan to put up a fight over the bakery, you should know the entire town will fight back.”
For a heartbeat, he didn’t answer, then that familiar ghost of a smile returned, though gentler this time. “I believe you,” he said. “I don’t doubt you for a second.”
Something in his tone made my chest tighten–not pity, but respect.
The snow thickened, swirling softly between us, and for a moment neither of us moved. He finally nodded, his voice low. “Well, goodnight, Miss Hart. I will be around tomorrow before I am due to leave.”
“Goodnight, Mr Grant.”
He lingered long enough for the silence to feel almost like a question, then turned and walked away, his footsteps muffled by snow.
I watched him go until the dark swallowed him whole–that tall, composed London man who’d stepped into my world and somehow was managing to unravel it without even trying.
Chapter Six
The snow had eased by morning, leaving the village washed in pale sunlight and silence. Pine Hollow looked almost unreal in the light. Rooftops glittering white, smoke curling lazily from chimneys, the faint scent of bread and frost in the air. I loaded my briefcase and small luggage into the back seat of the rental car, brushing snow from the bonnet with my sleeve. The cold bit through my gloves and caught at the back of my neck.
It should have felt like relief, I’d seen the last of the properties that morning, made notes, filled reports, ticked every box. My job here was finished. But I couldn’t quite shake the quiet unease that had followed me since last night.