“Stay.” He stayed, too. “Good boy.” She didn’t have any edible treats, so she rewarded him with a head scratch instead. Then she smiled at Marc. “He follows directions pretty well.”
“How did you…?” Marc blinked in astonishment, then frowned. “He’s never done that for me.”
“Guess I have the magic touch.” She stroked the dog’s soft head and he let out a low rumble that she guessed was his way of showing he liked what she was doing. “Seriously, he’s really yours?” Somehow, the idea of Marcus Colby with his inflexible demeanor and this gentle giant didn’t really fit in her brain.
“Oh, he is,” Marc said, his jaw tight. “I inherited him three days ago.” He ran a hand through his hair, which did nothing except make it look even more perfect. “Though why Aunt Sarah entrusted
me
with him, I’ll never know.”
“Hey, Mister!” an angry voice shouted from a safe distance. “That your dog? He destroyed my booth!”
“Mine too!” another voice joined in.
“And mine.”
A small crowd of people, including John and Martha, were making their way toward them. As if on cue, a flashbulb went off. Par for the course in Grace’s world, but she flinched all the same. Marc gave the photog a glare and the man quickly scuttled away.
“You seem to have a way with him,” Marc said. “Would you mind keeping an eye on him while I go deal with this?”
“Of course, but I know almost all the vendors here. Are you sure you don’t want me to talk to them?”
Marc shook his head. “I made the mess. I’ll clean it up,” he said firmly. “Meet you in the park afterward?”
“Okay.”
While Marc went to face the music, Grace led the dog over to Amber’s booth.
“Oh, no,” Amber said, backing up, a look of sheer terror on her face. “Nononono.”
“He’s harmless,” Grace told her, patting his head. “See?”
As if on cue, the dog let out a deep, giant bark.
Amber screamed and pressed herself against her table of wares.
“It’s his way of saying he likes you,” Grace explained, but Amber was having none of it.
“I don’t…do…animals,” she said in a quavering voice.
“Sorry,” Grace said. “I’ll take him away. But I’ll see you next week, okay?”
Amber still looked petrified. “Okay,” she said quickly. “ ’Bye.”
Grace sighed. The last thing she wanted was to freak out her friend. She glanced over to where Marc was in a discussion with the group of vendors. Though at least five people were screaming at him, Marc was keeping his cool. He didn’t raise his voice once, just nodded and responded calmly, his expression neutral, in complete command of the situation despite the fact that he was outnumbered and in the wrong. He’d be fine.
“Come,” she ordered the dog, and with a firm grip on the leash, she took him out of the farmers’ market and to the town green. Luckily, the area was empty because almost everyone was at the market.
“I forgot to ask Marc about your name,” she said. “We’ll just have to wait until he comes back. That okay, buddy?”
He let out a big bark, as if signifying his understanding. Worked for her.
She found an abandoned tennis ball in some bushes, and when the big dog got excited, she unclipped his leash from his collar and threw the ball across the great lawn.
“Go!” she ordered him, and he ran to fetch it, bounding across the grass and returning in a flash. She did it again, and he eagerly loped around, stretching his legs and letting out several happy barks when he had to chase it into a thick hedge. Poor thing had probably been cooped up. These kinds of dogs needed lots of space and lots of exercise.
Each time he returned with that tiny yellow ball in his huge jaws, she sank a little deeper under his spell. Even with her hand covered in slobber while some nameless dog chased a ball around and came back to her—to
her
—she couldn’t remember being this happy in a while.
God, she really was
“How did you…?” Marc blinked in astonishment, then frowned. “He’s never done that for me.”
“Guess I have the magic touch.” She stroked the dog’s soft head and he let out a low rumble that she guessed was his way of showing he liked what she was doing. “Seriously, he’s really yours?” Somehow, the idea of Marcus Colby with his inflexible demeanor and this gentle giant didn’t really fit in her brain.
“Oh, he is,” Marc said, his jaw tight. “I inherited him three days ago.” He ran a hand through his hair, which did nothing except make it look even more perfect. “Though why Aunt Sarah entrusted
me
with him, I’ll never know.”
“Hey, Mister!” an angry voice shouted from a safe distance. “That your dog? He destroyed my booth!”
“Mine too!” another voice joined in.
“And mine.”
A small crowd of people, including John and Martha, were making their way toward them. As if on cue, a flashbulb went off. Par for the course in Grace’s world, but she flinched all the same. Marc gave the photog a glare and the man quickly scuttled away.
“You seem to have a way with him,” Marc said. “Would you mind keeping an eye on him while I go deal with this?”
“Of course, but I know almost all the vendors here. Are you sure you don’t want me to talk to them?”
Marc shook his head. “I made the mess. I’ll clean it up,” he said firmly. “Meet you in the park afterward?”
“Okay.”
While Marc went to face the music, Grace led the dog over to Amber’s booth.
“Oh, no,” Amber said, backing up, a look of sheer terror on her face. “Nononono.”
“He’s harmless,” Grace told her, patting his head. “See?”
As if on cue, the dog let out a deep, giant bark.
Amber screamed and pressed herself against her table of wares.
“It’s his way of saying he likes you,” Grace explained, but Amber was having none of it.
“I don’t…do…animals,” she said in a quavering voice.
“Sorry,” Grace said. “I’ll take him away. But I’ll see you next week, okay?”
Amber still looked petrified. “Okay,” she said quickly. “ ’Bye.”
Grace sighed. The last thing she wanted was to freak out her friend. She glanced over to where Marc was in a discussion with the group of vendors. Though at least five people were screaming at him, Marc was keeping his cool. He didn’t raise his voice once, just nodded and responded calmly, his expression neutral, in complete command of the situation despite the fact that he was outnumbered and in the wrong. He’d be fine.
“Come,” she ordered the dog, and with a firm grip on the leash, she took him out of the farmers’ market and to the town green. Luckily, the area was empty because almost everyone was at the market.
“I forgot to ask Marc about your name,” she said. “We’ll just have to wait until he comes back. That okay, buddy?”
He let out a big bark, as if signifying his understanding. Worked for her.
She found an abandoned tennis ball in some bushes, and when the big dog got excited, she unclipped his leash from his collar and threw the ball across the great lawn.
“Go!” she ordered him, and he ran to fetch it, bounding across the grass and returning in a flash. She did it again, and he eagerly loped around, stretching his legs and letting out several happy barks when he had to chase it into a thick hedge. Poor thing had probably been cooped up. These kinds of dogs needed lots of space and lots of exercise.
Each time he returned with that tiny yellow ball in his huge jaws, she sank a little deeper under his spell. Even with her hand covered in slobber while some nameless dog chased a ball around and came back to her—to
her
—she couldn’t remember being this happy in a while.
God, she really was
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