Jane laughed and dragged me the rest of the way up the stairs.
The Pet Fashion Show was the biggest hit of the day. My Tiger and I won Honorable Mention in the Look-Alike category. Robbie scored the Second Place ribbon for the Most Dignified costume in his Royal Stewart tartan kilt and jaunty tartan cap.
I strolled to the center of the stage with Tiger and Robbie to proudly claim our ribbons with the other winners. The stage was packed with happy people and pets of every shape and size, mainly because we’d decided that every single entrant should at least win an Honorable Mention. Didn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings, after all.
Without warning, an earsplitting scream arose from the other side of the park. I saw Eric and Tommy running toward the sound, just as one of the vendor booths erupted into chaos.
“Oh no.” I clutched Tiger closer and tightened my grip on Robbie’s leash. Glancing around at the other prizewinners, I shouted, “Hold on to your animals.”
It was the no-kill animal shelter’s adoption booth. The young assistant had lost control of her dogs and they were dashing across the park in every direction, many of them making a beeline for the Fashion Show stage.
“Maybe we should’ve let them participate in the show,” Ellie, one of our fellow Festival Committee members, mumbled as she ducked behind me. “It looks like they’re about to attack.”
I laughed as a miniature schnauzer wiggled its way up the steps and onto the stage and started sniffing at Robbie. He sniffed back, clearly not minding at all.
“They just want to play.”
Within a few minutes, most of the escapees had been rounded up, thanks to the kids who’d gone chasing after them. The way some of those children were clutching the animals, I had a feeling they wouldn’t let them go without a fight.
Jane smiled. “There’s going to be a lot more pet adoptions this afternoon than the shelter counted on.”
“Isn’t that lovely?” Ellie sighed.
“Hey, Irish.”
I glanced down and saw Mac standing on the grass, holding a pretty black cat in his arms.
“Hey, yourself.” I handed Tiger off to Jane and wound my way through the crowd to the stairs with Robbie tagging happily behind me. I hadn’t spoken to Mac in almost a week, since he’d gone to New York for more meetings. I had tried not to miss him too much, and luckily I’d had the Valentine’s Festival to keep me busy.
“Are you having fun?” I asked.
“This is the best,” he said, gazing around. “Damn, I love this town. I missed it while I was away.” He looked back at me. “I missed you.”
“We all missed you, too,” I said, smiling. I reached out and petted the black cat. “Who’s your friend?”
“I named him Luke, short for Lucifer, because he’s a devil of a cat.”
“He’s a beauty.” But then I caught his words. “You named him? Is he yours?”
“Yeah, I just adopted him.” He nuzzled the cat’s soft neck. “I think we’ll be good together.”
I could hear Luke purring from where I stood. “Oh, that’s wonderful, Mac. Welcome, Luke.”
“Shannon,” Mac said somberly. “I haven’t had a chance to talk to you since I left for New York.”
“Did you have a good time?”
“Yeah, yeah,” he said, waving off the question. “But I wanted to tell you that the woman you saw in my apartment—and I know you saw her—she’s . . . nobody. She’s not important to me. She showed up here without warning and I tried to be nice, but I wanted her out of there. She’s a little pushy.”
“You don’t owe me any explanations.”
His gaze was focused like a laser on me. “I think I do.”
“I’m . . . fine.”
“Yeah, I know you are.” Smiling, he brushed a strand of hair away from my cheek. “But I still want to apologize. I know you saw us that night and I think I hurt you, and . . . hell, I never want to hurt you, Irish. I—”
“There you are.”
We both turned to see Eric walking toward us with a big, beautiful German shepherd on a leash. Instinctively I stooped down and picked up Robbie. At the same time, Mac grasped the short leash that was clipped to Luke’s collar.
“This is Rudy,” Eric said, grinning at the big dog who gazed with adoration at his human companion. “He’s very well behaved.”
“He’s a beauty,” I said, grateful for the interruption. “Where’d he come from?”
“I just adopted him from the shelter.”
I laughed. “That’s fantastic, Eric. He suits you.”
“He looks formidable.” Mac held on to Luke as he leaned over to pet the dog.
“He is.” Eric frowned. “He belonged to a soldier who died in Afghanistan.”
“Oh, poor Rudy,” I said, and set Robbie cautiously on the ground. The two dogs began to sniff each other in greeting.