They walked side by side, Atlas on the outside of Rowan. Marcus hoped he’d at least try to walk him in between them, so that Atlas would get used to Marcus quicker.
As they walked past Ben, Ben looked from Rowan to Atlas and then to Marcus. ‘Morning, Marcus. Who do we ‘ave ‘ere then?’ his voice just a decibel or two lower than the voice he usually used to advertise his wares.
Atlas immediately stopped and backed up into Rowan’s legs. Rowan’s hand lowered onto Atlas’s chest, patting him lovingly. ‘It’s okay, boy. Settle down, settle down.’
Ben’s face froze, mortified with himself. ‘Sorry, lad. It’s all right. I didn’t mean to startle you.’ His face creased into an apologetic grimace as he looked up at Rowan. ‘I’m sorry, mate. Me an’ my big old mouth. I’ve already got my sales head on, yer see.’
‘He’s not good with noise at the moment,’ said Rowan, but his attention was focused more on Atlas than Ben.
Marcus held up a hand to Ben. ‘No worries, Ben. No harm done.’
Ben dipped his head, and then returned to what he was doing.
‘Is Atlas all right?’ Marcus’s voice was laced with concern.
‘Yes, he’s fine. Can we hurry up and get on with this, I think I’ll take him back for some quiet time soon.’
Marcus nodded, ‘Yes, of course... This way.’
He led the way down the steps, giving Rowan enough time to cajole Atlas in his own time. He was curious to find out the backstory about Atlas, but he didn’t want to pry. If Rowan wanted him to know, he was sure he would tell him in his own time, especially if it was going to be an important factor in gaining a better understanding of Atlas to be able to groom him.
They fell silently into step, side by side again. Marcus wasn’t sure whether to broach what just happened with Ben. He didn’t want Rowan to get the wrong impression of Ben—he was certainly no Mrs Calloway.
‘He wasn’t being nosey you know, Ben... Just curious.’
‘I know. I could sense he was upset with himself for spooking Atlas. I appreciated the kind way he spoke to him.’
Rowan’s words soothed Marcus’s tight shoulders, he hadn’t realised they’d been so tense, and they visibly lowered. He was still trying to work out how he should be around Rowan. Rowan was quiet and reserved, Marcus was still being his usual merry self, although he was refraining from joking the way he usually did, in case it offended his new client. Not that it should matter—he should be able to be himself around anyone—no matter how gorgeous they were.
Waves rushed onto the sand, just missing his feet, before quickly retreating. Marcus looked at Atlas still walking subdued by Rowan’s side. He was surprised Atlas didn’t show the same enthusiasm for frolicking in the frothy surf as other dogs he’d seen on the beach. He didn’t even sniff at clumps of seaweed, or dip his nose into rockpools.
As they approached the place Marcus thought would be perfect for the dog competition, Marcus mulled over the episode with Ben, an idea coming to mind. He pointed at a flat area. ‘That is where I was thinking of placing the stalls.’ Rowan nodded. ‘And that part there, is where the owners can walkaround with their pets to showcase them.’ He walked over to a different part of the beach.’ How about this area for the quiet zone?’
Rowan shook his head. ‘It’s too close to the water’s edge, and if you intend to showcase the dogs right next to it, there will be too much going on. The nervous dogs won’t be able to fully relax.’
Marcus nibbled his bottom lip. Rowan had a good point.
Rowan strode over to the back wall, Atlas dutifully trailing behind him on his lead. The seafront was directly above it, a handrail guarding pedestrians from the six-foot drop onto the beach below. ‘I suggest you put a marquee here. It’s in a quieter position, far enough away from too much noise, but not far enough away to segregate them.’
A beaming smile lit up Marcus’s face. He nodded enthusiastically. ‘Yes, yes... You’re right. That’s a fantastic idea.’ He walked towards Rowan, his arms opening wide with enthusiasm, as he excitedly delivered the idea he just thought up. ‘And there can also be another marquee next to it, for a rescue-rehab category, for dogs like Atlas.’
Rowan stiffened. ‘You don’t think I’d be entering Atlas, do you?’
‘Well... yes.’ Marcus was miffed. Why had Rowan already decided Atlas shouldn’t be celebrated?
Marcus blinked, the excitement still sitting on his face like a smile that had forgotten how to leave.
For a second, he couldn’t quite work out what he’d said wrong. The idea had felt perfect in his head. Kind, even. A category for dogs who had been through something. Dogs who needed gentler applause. Dogs who deserved to be seen for more than glossy coats and wagging tails.
But Rowan was no longer looking at the stretch of sand Marcus had indicated. His gaze had dropped to Atlas, and thehand holding the lead had tightened just enough for Marcus to notice.
The morning breeze shifted between them, carrying the sharp tang of seaweed and the distant call of Ben advertising fresh mackerel behind them.
‘I didn’t mean—’ Marcus began.
‘He isn’t a project,’ Rowan said.
The words landed harder than Marcus expected.
