“Well, Bentley Boy, you know what they say about things that are all flash.” I gave him a deliberate up and down. “They’re missing a little something under the hood. Compensating for that lack of…horsepower.”
He huffed in aggravation, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “Just get a shift on already,” he grumbled. “I don’t have time to be part of your roadside drama.”
“Well, I don’t have time to deal with your inflated sense of self right now.” I needed those memory cards, like, yesterday. “I’m in a rush.”
“You may be in a rush, but you’re still standing inmyway,” he said, scowling.
I clenched my fists, frustration itching at my neck. “Poshpants, you’ve got about two seconds to relocate your Bentley, or I’m going to take your car to Glenby.”
“You? Behind the wheel of this?” he scoffed. “You must be joking. I’d rather let—ugh!” He jumped back as one of the sheep darted down the hillside, ambling close enough to pluck at the laces of his fancy loafer. He shooed it away, but then another sheep scooted down the hill, and another, swarming around us.Next thing I knew, they came pouring over the hill, some of them crossing to the other pasture, some of them just milling about in the middle of the road.
“Bloody hell!” Poshpants spat. “They’re everywhere!”
I bit my cheek, watching him swat at the curious sheep who nibbled at him. They came to inspect me too, but I didn’t have fancy Italian shoelaces, and they seemed more interested in the tufts of grass growing near Lottie’s tires than my worn-out trainers. “See, this is what happens when you faff about,” I said. Was I pissed that Poshpants had wasted my time? Yes. Was I secretly pleased that the sheep were making this experience even more miserable for him? Also, yes.
His gaze narrowed, his words practically a hiss. “I wasn’t faffing about.Youwere being difficult.”
“Well, the window has closed on only having to deal with me. I hope you enjoy arguing with the sheep now. Maybe they’ll be more responsive to your particular brand of charm.”
His jaw dropped as another wave of sheep ran down the hill, surrounding his SUV.
“Go on,” he called, shooing them away. “Get out of here!Argh!” He waved his arms around and hollered like a man possessed, trying to scare them off the road. One of the sheep responded with a loud, unbothered bleat.
“I don’t think they respond to arsehole,” I called.
His head twisted in my direction. “Get behind them and shoo them back up the hill or neither of us is getting out of here.”
“I’d hate to rob you of this beautiful bonding experience.”
He glowered. “The fact that you can be this annoyingandthis useless is truly astounding.”
“This is Scotland,” I said, patting one of the sheep on the head just to piss him off. Sure, I needed to get out of here, but letting this play out for another minute or two just to aggravate Poshpants a little more felt totally worth it. Lena and Weston would understand. Sometimes the universe provided in unexpected ways. “Sheep happen. You just have to roll with it.”
“Why don’t you go work on rolling your car into the ditch if you’re not going to help?” he snapped.
“And miss this master class in incompetence?” I shot back.
A man appeared at the top of the ridge suddenly. He wore overalls and wellies and had the look of a farmer who’d been in the business since long before I was born.
“These your sheep?” Poshpants called up to him, huffing from the exertion of shouting and shooing.
The farmer blinked. “Aye.”
“Mind getting them out of here?”
“They’ll cross as fast as they cross,” the man said, tucking his hands into his pockets.
I smirked. “See, you can stop having your tantrum now.”
“You could assist at any time,” Poshpants bit back at me, teeth clenched, “seeing as you’re the reason we’re both stuck in this situation.”
“I think you mean sheep-uation.” Poshpants looked murderous. “Plus, you’re doing such a stellar job on your own, winning over the locals with your warm personality.”
He swore under his breath as one of the sheep started gnawing on his pants.
“Hey, maybe you’re just not using the right tone,” I said. “Have you triedbaa?”
His face turned so red that for a second I thought he was going to combust, then he turned and marched straight over to the farmer, knocking sheep out of his path as he whipped out his wallet. “How much?” he demanded.
