‘How about I bake some dog shaped cookies for the children, and some dog-friendly cookies for the dogs? All proceeds can go towards any expenses you incur.’
‘And I can offer a haunted hounds ghost tour during competitions. Same with the tours, any money made can go towards costs,’ Veronica added.
Marcus couldn’t believe the generosity of time and effort.
‘Is it right your dog used to be a police dog?’ Mrs Calloway blurted out.
All eyes once again turned to Rowan. He squirmed uncomfortably in his seat.
Marcus stood up. ‘Thank you all for coming. I’ve taken enough of your time today. Keep in contact. You can call in to Ruff to Regal at anytime to ask questions or make further suggestions. And if it’s okay with everyone, we can meet up again on Sunday at noon.’
‘But we haven’t heard any suggestions from Rowan yet,’ said Reverend Townsend.
Marcus glanced at Rowan, he’d known him all of three days and had met him just as many times, but from reading his body language, he could see Rowan wanted to be anywhere but here, open for more personal questions from Mrs Calloway.
‘Rowan is only here to update me on the layout he thinks will benefit more nervous dogs. Thanks again everyone.’
Marcus walked over to where Rowan had sat down at the edge of the group, his back now turned to the others, and subconsciously forming a barrier between Rowan and them. One by one, he could hear them shuffle away.
Rowan looked up and met his eyes. ‘I wasn’t expecting to be under the microscope... To be some sort of community project.’
‘Huh?’ Rowan’s remark threw Marcus.
‘A community project,’ Rowan repeated, quieter this time. ‘That’s what it felt like just now.’
Marcus glanced over his shoulder. The others were drifting back towards the noise of the pub, their voices blending with the clink of glasses and the low rumble of conversation from the bar. No one was paying them any attention now.
Still, Rowan looked as if he were standing behind glass.
‘I’m sorry,’ Marcus said. Rowan’s brows pulled together, as if he hadn’t expected the apology. ‘I mean it.’ Marcus pushed hishands into his pockets because he suddenly didn’t know what else to do with them. ‘I asked you to come because I needed your help. I didn’t think about how it might feel to be put in front of everyone like that.’
‘It wasn’t you.’
‘It was partly me.’ Marcus gave a small shrug. ‘I invited you.’
Rowan looked away, his jaw tightening. For a moment, Marcus thought he wouldn’t say anything else.
Then Rowan released a slow breath. ‘Atlas was my partner before he was my dog.’ The words settled between them, quiet but heavy. Marcus stayed still. ‘People hear retired police dog and they want a story,’ Rowan continued. ‘They want something dramatic. Something brave. Something they can repeat to the next person.’ His mouth twisted slightly. ‘They don’t mean harm. I know that. But Atlas isn’t a story. He isn’t something to be admired because he survived something.’
Marcus’s chest tightened. He thought of the rescue-rehab category he had suggested that morning and how badly he had misjudged it. ‘I understand,’ he said softly. ‘Or I’m trying to.’
Rowan looked back at him then, and Marcus felt the full weight of that dark, guarded gaze. ‘Most people don’t try.’
Marcus swallowed. The compliment was barely a compliment at all, but it warmed something in him anyway.
From the bar, someone laughed loudly. Mrs Calloway’s voice rose above the noise for one sharp second before disappearing again. Marcus gave a small, humourless smile.
‘People here are kind,’ he said. ‘Mostly. But they do like to decide who you are before you’ve finished working it out yourself.’
Rowan studied him. ‘Is that what they do with you?’
The question landed closer than Marcus expected. He laughed out of habit, but the sound felt thin. ‘Apparently, I’mSeagull Bay’s most eligible bachelor. Mrs Flownder tried to offer me her sister this morning.’
For the first time that evening, Rowan’s mouth almost moved into a smile. ‘Congratulations.’
‘Thank you. It’s a great honour. A very heavy crown.’
‘And is she right?’
