Chapter four #2
Marcus’s chest tightened. ‘I thought it might be nice,’ he said carefully. ‘That’s all. Something gentler than Best in Show. Something for dogs who’ve had a hard time, or who aren’t ready for the chaos of the main ring.’
Rowan’s jaw shifted. ‘Dogs don’t need people clapping because they survived something.’
Marcus swallowed. ‘No. Maybe not.’
‘And Atlas doesn’t need a tent full of strangers staring at him because someone has decided his trauma is inspiring.’
That one hurt. Not because Rowan was wrong. Because Marcus could see how easily his lovely, generous idea could become exactly that.
He turned his gaze out to sea, blinking against the brightness glancing off the water.
A laugh rose automatically in his throat—the kind of laugh he used when a customer complained, when Mrs Calloway asked too many questions, when one of the women in the bay tried to set him up with a niece or a cousin or a friend from pilates.
He pushed it down. For once, he let the silence stay serious. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said.
Rowan looked at him sharply, as if he had expected an argument instead.
Marcus tucked his hands into his pockets, his fingers curling against the fabric. ‘I really am. I didn’t think of it like that. I just saw how brave he was yesterday, taking that step towards the door, and I wanted...’ He stopped before the words could make things worse.
Rowan’s expression changed by the smallest amount. ‘Wanted what?’
Marcus glanced at Atlas again. ‘I wanted him to have a win.’
The line between Rowan’s brows deepened. ‘He doesn’t know what a rosette is,’ Rowan said.
‘No, but you do.’ The words slipped out before Marcus had time to make them softer.
Rowan went very still.
Marcus’s stomach dropped. Brilliant. Wonderful. There it was. The reason he was single, probably. His mouth, running half a second ahead of his sense.
He lifted both hands slightly. ‘Ignore me. I’m overstepping. It’s a terrible habit of mine. Christine says I should have a sign made for the parlour wall.’
Rowan did not smile, but something in his eyes shifted. Not warmth. Not quite. But the hard edge dulled a fraction.
Atlas took one careful step forward and lowered his nose towards a ribbon of seaweed half-buried in the sand. He sniffed it once, then jerked his head up when a child shrieked with laughter further along the beach.
Rowan immediately angled his body between Atlas and the sound. Not dramatically. Not with panic. Just a subtle movement, protective and practised.
Marcus noticed.
He was starting to think he could spend days noticing Rowan, and still not understand half of what he saw.
A small brown spaniel came barrelling along the sand, lead trailing behind it, a little girl chasing after it with her bucket bouncing against her leg.
‘Pudding! Come back!’
Marcus saw Atlas’s ears shoot forward.
Rowan saw it too.
‘Stay behind me,’ Rowan said quietly.
It took Marcus a second to realise Rowan meant him as well as the child.
The spaniel skidded to a stop a few feet away, tail wagging furiously, tongue lolling out as if everyone on the beach had been invited to take part in the most wonderful game.
Atlas did not move, but every muscle in his body seemed to lock.
Marcus crouched slowly, keeping his hands visible and his voice light. ‘Hello there, Pudding. You are a little escape artist, aren’t you?’
The little girl stumbled to a halt, breathless and pink-cheeked. ‘Sorry. He pulled away.’
Rowan did not look at her. His entire focus remained on Atlas.
Marcus reached for the spaniel’s lead, keeping his movement slow and easy. ‘No harm done. But let’s keep him close, sweetheart. Not every dog likes surprises.’
The girl’s eyes widened as she looked at Atlas. ‘Is he a police dog?’
Rowan flinched.
Marcus saw it. Felt it, almost.
‘He used to do very important work,’ Marcus said gently, clipping his fingers around Pudding’s lead and passing it back to her. ‘Now he’s enjoying a quieter life. Aren’t you, Atlas?’
Atlas’s gaze flicked briefly to Marcus.
Only briefly.
But it was enough to send an absurd little spark of triumph through him.
The girl nodded solemnly, as if Marcus had shared something of great importance. ‘My mum says Pudding’s only job is eating socks.’
‘A noble profession,’ Marcus said with a soft chuckle.
The child giggled and ran back towards her mother, Pudding bouncing beside her.
When Marcus straightened, Rowan was looking at him.
Really looking.
‘That was well handled,’ Rowan said, although his face was hard to read.
Marcus’s chest warmed at the praise. He tried not to let it show and failed completely. ‘Careful. Compliments make me unbearable.’
For the first time, Rowan’s mouth twitched. It was barely there. A tiny almost-smile that vanished as quickly as it came.
But Marcus saw it. And because he was apparently a fool, he wanted another one immediately.
Rowan turned back towards the stretch of beach. ‘A quiet zone could work.’
Marcus stilled.
‘Not a rescue-rehab category,’ Rowan added. ‘Not unless owners choose it and it’s worded carefully. No pity. No spectacle.’
‘No pity,’ Marcus agreed at once.
‘But a calm area for dogs who need space. Shade. Water. Clear signs. No children running in and out. No dogs on extending leads. And volunteers who understand not to touch without asking.’
Marcus nodded quickly, already picturing it. ‘Yes. That’s good. That’s really good.’
‘And the main showcasing ring should be further from the steps. Too much foot traffic there.’
Marcus looked where Rowan pointed, following the line from steps to sand to sea. ‘You really do see everything, don’t you?’
Rowan’s gaze stayed on the beach. ‘No. I missed something once.’
The words were quiet. So quiet Marcus almost lost them beneath the waves. He wanted to ask. The question pressed against the back of his teeth. What did you miss? What happened? Why does Atlas look as if he’s still waiting for a command that might hurt him?
But Rowan’s face had closed again.
Marcus had already overstepped once this morning. He would not do it twice.
Instead, he looked out across the sand and forced lightness into his voice. ‘Right then. Quiet zone at the back, stalls on the flat sand, main ring further down, water station by the steps, and absolutely no inspirational trauma tent.’
Rowan glanced at him. There it was again. That almost-smile. ‘Good,’ he said.
Marcus grinned. ‘I can be taught.’
‘We’ll see.’
The words should not have made Marcus’s stomach flip, but they absolutely did.
A shout came from the seafront above them.
‘Marcus!’
He turned and saw Jack leaning over the rail, one hand lifted in greeting. ‘After seeing your poster in Tammy’s, I thought about the location. If you’re serious about holding this down here, come and see me before you confirm the layout. Tide times and access routes matter.’
Marcus cupped a hand above his eyes. ‘Will do, Jack. I’ve decided I’m going to hold the meeting I told you about at the pub tonight. Seven o’clock. Can you come?’
‘Wouldn’t miss it.’
Jack disappeared from the rail, and Marcus turned back to Rowan with sudden hope.
‘You should come too.’
Rowan’s expression immediately shuttered. ‘No.’
‘You don’t even know what I’m going to say.’
‘You just said it.’
‘True, but I hadn’t made it sound charming yet.’
‘Marcus.’
His name in Rowan’s voice did something entirely inconvenient to Marcus’s insides.
He ignored it. Mostly.
‘Just come for half an hour,’ Marcus said. ‘You don’t have to talk to anyone if you don’t want to. You can stand in a corner looking intimidating and silently judging my lack of planning.’
‘I don’t silently judge.’
Marcus lifted an eyebrow.
Rowan looked away first. ‘Fine. I silently judge a little.’
A laugh escaped Marcus before he could stop it.
This time, Rowan did smile. Not much. Not for long. But enough.
Marcus felt as if the sun had shifted slightly.
Rowan gave Atlas’s lead a gentle movement. ‘I’ll come... For the dogs.’
‘Of course,’ Marcus said, trying to keep his voice steady. ‘For the dogs.’
Rowan nodded once, then turned back towards the steps with Atlas close at his side.
Marcus watched them go, the sea breeze tugging at his shirt, the morning already slipping away from him.
He had a full diary, no Georgina, a dog competition to organise, a meeting to plan, and a heart that had apparently decided to become interested in the most emotionally unavailable man in Seagull Bay.
Wonderful.
Absolutely wonderful.
Still, as Rowan paused at the steps and glanced back once, Marcus found himself smiling.
For the dogs, indeed.