A shout answers that question.
“He’s heading for the aging warehouse!” Alistair calls, already moving.
I take off after him.
“If Hamish gets into the casks?—”
“Don’t even think about it!” he snaps over his shoulder. “Some of those whiskies are over twenty years old!”
We round a corner and find three employees attempting to corner Hamish. He watches them calmly, like he’s calculating his next move.
“Easy now…” one of them murmurs. “Come here…”
Hamish pauses. Decides.
And bolts straight for the open warehouse door.
“NOT THE CASKS!” Alistair and I shout in unison.
Too late.
Hamish disappears inside.
For a split second, we all freeze.
Then we run after him.
Because one thing is now painfully clear?—
My fake engagement negotiation just turned into absolute chaos. And knowing Hamish… this is only the beginning.
CHAPITRE 5
KEIRA
Making a deal with the devil… in a kilt
“Just so we’re clear, Keira—if your sheep pees everywhere, I’m sending you the cleaning bill!”
I wisely refrain from pointing out that Hamish is capable of far worse than that—and that a little puddle would be the least of our problems.
We’re sprinting like lunatics through rows of priceless aging casks, chasing a sixty-five-kilo sheep with the determination of a tiny, wool-covered demon.
“Over here!” Alistair shouts, pointing down an aisle to the right.
I catch a flash of beige wool disappearing behind a row of barrels labeled2003. We race after him, our footsteps echoing sharply against the concrete floor.
“We need to corner him against the back wall,” Alistair says between breaths. “You go left, I’ll go right.”
I nod and slip into the aisle, slowing as I scan the dim spaces between the casks.
“Hamish,” I call, aiming for firm but non-threatening. “Get over here right now, you walking disaster.”
A faint scratching sound comes from the far end. I move carefully—and there he is, sniffing a barrel with great interest.
Miraculously, nothing seems damaged.
Yet.
