‘Hello, boy, Don’t mind me. I’ll only be in your space for a moment longer.’
As if understanding exactly what he’d just said, Atlas dropped his snout back onto his paws.
Quickly stripping out of his top, Marcus slipped his arms into the shirt and pulled it on, looking down to fasten the buttons.
Rowan’s aftershave on the shirt’s collar caught him off guard. Marcus stopped buttoning and inhaled, instantly becoming heady.
Rowan’s voice caught him off guard. ‘Marcus, I think someone is coming to the quiet zone with their pet.’
‘Coming.’ Quickly finishing, Marcus picked up the clipboard and his top and smiled at Atlas. ‘Bye, Atlas. See you later.’
Rowan’s eyebrows went up as he ran his eyes over Marcus. ‘Hmmm. I think that suits you better than me.’
Marcus grinned and winked. ‘I might just have to keep it then.’
Rowan’s eyes lingered on him for a moment longer than necessary.
‘You probably should,’ he said.
Marcus’s grin almost slipped into something softer, but a burst of laughter from the main ring saved him from having to answer.
Veronica’s voice carried across the beach, bright and theatrical even in full daylight. ‘Ladies, gentlemen, children, dogs, and anyone here pretending they only came for Tammy’s cake, please gather around for our first category of the day.’
Marcus glanced towards the ring, where a small crowd had already begun to form. Dogs of every size and description were either standing proudly beside their owners, sitting with hopeful expressions, sniffing each other’s tails, or attempting to drag their humans towards the refreshment stall.
The competition was truly underway.
Marcus’s heart gave a strange little squeeze.
He had been so busy worrying about whether everything would go wrong, he had barely taken a moment to enjoy the fact that so much had gone right.
‘I’d better go and look useful,’ he said.
‘That might be a challenge in that shirt,’ Rowan replied.
Marcus looked down at himself. ‘Excuse me. I look excellent.’
‘You do.’
The words were quiet.
Too quiet.
Marcus’s breath caught, but before he could ruin the moment by saying something ridiculous, Atlas gave a soft huff from inside the quiet-zone marquee.
Rowan’s gaze shifted towards him, and the softness on his face deepened.
‘Go on,’ Rowan said. ‘Your public awaits.’
‘My public is mostly here for the dogs.’
‘And the cake.’
‘And the cake,’ Marcus agreed, his grin returning.
He walked back towards the main ring with Rowan’s shirt brushing softly against his skin and Rowan’s aftershave clinging to him in a way that made concentrating an almost impossible task.
The first category was Waggiest Tail, which, in hindsight, Marcus thought might have been a mistake to hold first. It had caused absolute chaos. A tiny terrier wagged with such determination that her whole backside shimmied. A golden retriever knocked over a water bowl in his excitement. A spaniel called Bertie lay on his back and wagged all four paws, which the children found hilarious and several adults insisted should count.
