A perfectly ordinary Highland sheep with rain-matted wool, chewing grass like it didn’t just interrupt the most romantic moment of my life.
We both stand there, processing.
“That’s not Hamish,” I say slowly.
“No,” Alistair agrees. “That’s just… a sheep.”
“A completely normal sheep.”
“A completely normal sheep we somehow mistook for your sheep.”
We look at each other.
The absurdity hits.
The sheep keeps chewing.
I crack first—a small laugh escaping, then another. Alistair’s lips twitch, and suddenly we’re both laughing.
“I cannot believe we just got interrupted by a sheep,” I gasp.
“A sheep we thought was your emotional support sheep!” he adds, laughing hard enough his eyes water.
“Hamish is going to be deeply offended!”
“‘Excuse me, I have a unique personality, I am not just livestock!’” he mimics indignantly.
We’re laughing so hard it hurts. The sheep watches us, probably wondering if we’ve lost our minds.
“He looks concerned,” I say, wiping my eyes.
“Maybe we have,” Alistair replies, catching his breath. “Maybe that’s what happens when I’m around you, Keira. I lose all sense.”
His tone shifts—softer now, more serious beneath the laughter.
“Alistair…”
“I know this wasn’t part of the plan,” he says, stepping closer. “I know we’re supposed to keep things professional. But I can’t pretend anymore that what I feel for you is just an act.”
My heart spins into that reckless waltz again—and this time, I don’t fight it.
“Neither can I,” I admit quietly.
“So what do we do?”
Good question. A terrifying one.
“I don’t know. Everything’s getting complicated.”
“Or maybe it’s finally simple,” he suggests.
The sheep chooses that exact moment to bleat loudly, as if offering commentary.
We both burst out laughing again.
“Apparently our romance consultant approves,” Alistair says.
“Or he’s telling us to get it together and go before we catch pneumonia.”
