Page 47 of Worst in Show

“Looks like you made great progress.” Leo picks up two of my cones and stacks them.

“Yeah, she’s a quick learner. It’s easy to underestimate her because of how she looks, but she’s super smart.” I reach for another cone, but Cap gets to it first. He’s decided to help with cleanup, and the orange plastic wobbles between his jaws as he happily struts away. “No, you little stinker. Over here.”

“I think he’s jealous Cholula got to have all the fun,” Leo says.

“Cap.” I sharpen my voice. “That’s not yours.” I follow him, but he feints every time I get close. “Oh, you…” I straighten and put my hands on my hips. “Captain Spots von Puppington, get back here right now!”

Leo comes up next to me. “Now, that’s a mouthful.”

“Works, though. Look, he dropped it.”

Cap stares at us, a string of drool still connecting his lips to the cone on the ground.

“Are you going to let me have it?” I ask, but as soon as I take a step in his direction, he shoves his whole head into the cone, and… it’s stuck. He lifts his conehead in the air and makes a run for it, heading straight for the side of the barn, as blind as Boris.

“Shit.” I take off after him, followed by Cholula and Tilly, who also want to be part of this new fun game. They dance around my legs, and I sense more than hear Leo yell out a warning before I trip and go flying headfirst into one of the muddy puddles. It’s my loud “Aaaaah!” that finally makes Cap slow down—and right on time, too, or he’d have hit the barn wall head-on.

Leo reaches me a second later. “Are you okay?”

I roll over to sitting and shake out my mud-soaked sleeves. A laugh bubbles up my chest.

“What’s so funny? You just fell. Your clothes are ruined.”

“But he looked hysterical running. Poor thing must be terrified.” When Leo remains unconvinced, I add, “I’m fine. Please go get the faceless unicorn over there before he takes off again.”

Cap has plopped down on the ground, the cone swaying back and forth as if he’s searching for a radio signal.

“On it.” Leo leaves, and I heave myself off the ground. “Coming to help you, bud,” he calls on approach.

The pant legs of my jeans slosh against each other as I join them. “What were you thinking, you goof?” I rub Cap’s ears. “You could have gotten hurt.”

“Here.” Leo hands me a monogrammed handkerchief from his pocket, because of course he carries one of those around. “You have some…” He gestures to my face.

“Thanks.” I try as best as I can to clean the splatters off my cheek. “Did I get it?”

“Let me see.” He steps into my space, stirring up the air with faint traces of chilled leather. With a flick of his head, he prompts me to tilt my face up. “No, there’s still— Hold on.” He takes the handkerchief from me and then pauses, his hand inches from my chin. “May I?”

His jacket is open, and the zippered hem sticks out just enough to brush against my sweater. The jagged edge scratches the wool as if it wants to grab hold, a minuscule tug that makes my belly flop. I give him a small nod.

Very gently, he braces the right side of my jaw with his fingertips so that he can wipe my left cheek. His skin is cool, his touch steady as he adjusts his grip and tilts my head for better access. When his pinkie slips down to my throat, I feel it all the way up my scalp. The prickling sensation makes my eyelids heavy. It’s very confusing.

“There,” he says, finally. “Better.”

“Thanks.” I push my hair behind my ear and look up at him. He’s still close. Too close? I take a step back.

“But it’s hardly going to be enough.” He smiles and shoves the muddy fabric back into his pocket. “You’re soaked.”

I look down at my abysmal figure. “I am, aren’t I?”

His grin widens. “Come on.” He nods toward the house. “Let’s get you properly cleaned up.”

Diane springs into action, offering a shower and a change of clothes, and I gratefully accept. I have a feeling Leo wouldn’t let me back in his SUV if I didn’t.

I emerge fifteen minutes later, freshly scrubbed and dressed in someone’s old high school sweatshirt. Go Falcons it reads in maroon across my chest behind tangles of wet hair. The sweatpants are equally oversized and so comfortable. The dogs are resting in a heap in the foyer, and Leo and Diane are in her office with the French doors closed. I pause on the stairs at the serious expressions on their faces. Diane hands him something flat and white. A letter maybe? His shoulders slump.

“There you are.” Dawn peeks out from the kitchen. “Everything go okay? I’ve put your clothes in the washer. They’ll be ready for you next time.”

I jog the last few steps down. “You didn’t have to do that.” I look at Leo again, and the question is out before I can stop it. “Do you know what they’re talking about? He looks upset.”

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