Because I know the moment we try to analyze what just happened, the magic will vanish—replaced by the cold reality of our arrangement, our families, our separate lives that were only ever meant to intersect temporarily.
He nods, understanding without words.
— Keira! Alistair! Are you in there?
Maggie’s voice makes us jump apart. We scramble to make ourselves presentable, brushing hay from our clothes.
— Yes, Grandma! I call out, hoping my voice doesn’t betray me.
The barn door swings open, and Maggie walks in, followed by Callum—who looks thoroughly displeased.
— There you are! she exclaims when she sees us. We finally caught the fugitives. Callum had to chase them all the way to the orchard after Lachlan thought he had them here… Good heavens, what happened to you two?
We’re still covered in hay, hair a mess, clothes wrinkled. We must look like—well, exactly what we were just doing.
— A hay bale collapsed on us, I say quickly. When the sheep ran in.
— Mm-hmm, Maggie hums, her smile far too knowing. The hay. Of course.
— Grandma…
— Don’t worry, darling. I completely understand that young couples need their private moments, she says with a wink before turning to Callum. Make sure those two troublemakers stay in their pen this time.
Callum nods, though not before shooting me a sharp look that makes my ears burn.
— Alistair, Maggie continues, you’re of course welcome to stay for dinner. After such an adventure, you must be starving.
— That’s very kind, but I should take Rosita back to the distillery, he replies politely. And let my team know we’ve found her.
— As you wish. Keira can walk you out.
An awkward silence settles between us. I don’t dare look at him, afraid of what I might see—or not see—in his eyes.
— I should go, he says at last.
— Yes, of course, I answer, my voice slightly unsteady. I’ll walk you to the entrance.
We leave the barn and walk side by side toward where Callum has tied Rosita. Neither of us mentions what just happened. It’s as if we’ve silently agreed to pretend that kiss never happened.
But just as Alistair unties Rosita and prepares to leave, he stops and turns to me.
— Keira…
— Yes?
— About what happened…
My chest tightens. This is it. The moment he tells me it was a mistake. That we should forget it. That it changes nothing.
— I don’t regret it, he says simply.
Then he leans in, presses a soft kiss to my cheek, and walks away—Rosita trotting obediently behind him.
I stand there, frozen, watching him go, my fingers lifting to the spot where his lips brushed my skin. And for the first time since this whole masquerade began, I wonder if I’m the one playing a role—or if the role is playing me.
From his pen, Hamish lets out a soft bleat, as if he understands my confusion perfectly.
— Oh, be quiet, I mutter without turning around. This is all your fault.
