Page 123 of Worst in Show

I have time to think the guy isn’t exactly being impartial, but then the ball goes flying, and so does Cap. I jump up and down as he races, faster than I’ve ever seen him go, the cape like a sail behind him.

“Cap! Cap! Cap!” rises from the audience.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” the MC narrates. “Don’t judge a book by its cover, folks, that’s all I have to say. Here he comes. Whoo—and the final ball is in. What. A. Show.”

Cap jumps into my arms, as riled up as I am, his little heart pounding against his ribs.

“You did so good,” I say with a laugh. I hug and squeeze him, craning my neck to get away from the sloppiest kisses. “Here, let’s get some water in you.”

“We’re going to take a minute to do the math. Don’t go anywhere,” the MC says.

A couple of people in volunteer vests show him their notes in a brief deliberation. One of them hands him a blue ribbon.

“Will the two finalists please join me onstage?” The MC makes his way up the stairs while a jolly Santa lumbers up the steps stage left carrying an oversized check.

The audience has sat back down, but Micki and Leo are still standing. So are two other figures on the opposite side. Diane and Dawn wave to me.

The MC starts by thanking all the participants today, and the sponsors who make the show possible. “These two dogs are both champions in their own way,” he says. “But only one can take home the grand prize of fifteen thousand dollars.”

The crowd claps, randomly at first and then in a steady, united rhythm that drives excitement to new levels. Clap. Clap. Clap, clap, clap.

“Today,” the MC says, his voice reverberating over the speaker system, “the winner of our annual Winter Fest’s dog show is…” He looks from Jessie to Cap, pausing to further heighten the suspense. “None other than Captain Spots von Puppington!”

The audience erupts, and my whole body goes numb. All sound disappears, and I’m only vaguely aware of Micki pushing through the crowd and running toward me, Leo on her heels.

“Well deserved. Ho ho ho,” Santa says, handing me the oversized check. There are flashes going off, and someone attaching the ribbon to Cap’s collar, but my mind is still blank.

“You did it!” Micki hollers, body slamming me into a bear hug. “You fucking won!”

Finally, my senses start working again. “We won,” I mumble, shaking my head. Then louder, “We won.” Happy Paws is safe for now.

Leo steps onto the stage, a wide grin stretching ear to ear. Well done, he mouths, sauntering toward me.

A giggle trills up my throat. Because it’s true. But while I do acknowledge that I brought it home on the final stretch, none of this would have been possible without him.

I hand Micki the check, and half walk, half run straight into Leo’s arms. I don’t care that we’re on a stage or that I should possibly still be mad at him—I only know I need to kiss him.

His lips are soft and inviting, as hungry for me as I am for him. A low grunt escapes him when I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him even closer, and he responds quickly, lifting me so I can wrap my legs around his waist. He might have to carry me home like this.

“Get a room, people,” Micki teases a few yards away.

After one last smooch, I reluctantly pull back, but only so far that our foreheads still touch. “Hi.”

“Hi.” His hands flex against my jean-clad bottom.

I bite my lip to stifle the elation floating inside me. “Seems like we won.”

“Never doubted you would.”

“We,” I correct him.

“Agree to disagree.” He smirks.

“Come on. You danced and everything. On a stage.”

He rubs the tip of his nose against mine. A soft stroke that sends shock waves all the way to my toes. “Cap won. That’s as far as I’m willing to go.”

“Fine.” I press my lips to his again and linger there for an extended moment that holds all of the past few months, good and bad. Leo opening Canine King, training, lunch with his aunts, Cholula and Tilly going nuts together, his dad, my parents, Halloween night, my birthday…

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