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been on the warpath all morning,” Sam confided in a loud whisper. He reached around me to set my tack box on top of a crate and managed to give my waist a squeeze in the process. “Now that you’re here, maybe she’ll settle down.”
    A year ago, we would have kissed hello. A year ago, a lot of things would have come more easily.
    The one thing that hadn’t changed was the frisson of awareness that hummed along my nerve endings whenever Sam was near. During the time he’d been away, I’d almost managed to convince myself that I was over that. I’d hoped that when—if—Sam returned, I’d look at him dispassionately and wonder why I’d ever found his shaggy blond hair and rugged features attractive.
    Unfortunately for the sake of my equilibrium, that hadn’t happened. Instead, I’d taken one look and tumbled all over again. Mother Nature was enjoying the last laugh at my expense, no doubt.
    â€œI heard that,” Aunt Peg said. “And I am not on the warpath. I am merely annoyed.” Her brow lowered into a frown. “Extremely annoyed.”
    â€œWhat happened?”
    â€œJudge change,” said Sam. “Mike Zinman didn’t make it.”
    â€œWho did?”
    â€œRachel Lyons.”
    That wasn’t good. The sole reason that the three of us had made the effort to drive several hours to this godforsaken little dog show was because Aunt Peg had approved of the judge. “Good hands on a puppy,” she said. It was one of her highest accolades.
    I knew there would be no such praise accorded Rachel Lyons. The woman was a Dalmatian breeder and a member of Aunt Peg’s kennel club. The two had known each other for years, and when Rachel had decided to expand the number of breeds she was approved to judge by applying for the remainder of the Non-Sporting group, Peg had offered to share her vast knowledge of Poodles.
    Not to worry, Rachel had replied blithely. She’d been watching poodles from outside the ring for years. Besides, the AKC had a video available. She was sure she already knew quite enough to pass judgment on Peg’s chosen breed. My aunt had hidden her outrage well, but I doubted that the two women had spoken since.
    â€œYou could go to the superintendent and get your money back,” I pointed out.
    â€œI’m here now.” Peg’s tone was heavy with disgruntlement. “The entry fee is the least of my worries. Zeke is bathed and trimmed and I’ve driven all this way. There’s nothing to do but chalk it up to experience.”
    All too often, that’s showing dogs in a nutshell. Nine parts frustration for every one part elation.
    â€œIs that all your stuff?” Aunt Peg asked. “Where’s my nephew?” She peered around the setup as if she expected to find Davey hiding behind Eve or tucked inside a crate.
    â€œHome with Bob. Much to my surprise, we have a new addition to the family.”
    â€œOh?” Sam, who’d gone back to working on Tar, swiveled to face me, suddenly attentive. “Is Bob getting married again?”
    And they say women are catty.
    â€œNot quite.” I smothered a grin.
    Now that Bob is back in the neighborhood, there’s a definite undercurrent of rivalry between the two men in my life. Sam feels it was underhanded of my ex-husband to put in an appearance soon after he left town. Bob believes that Sam was a cad for leaving Davey and me hanging.
    So if my ex’s name slips into the conversation a little more often than necessary when I’m talking to Sam, I’m not entirely sure I should be held accountable. Payback’s a bitch, isn’t it?
    â€œBob bought Davey a pony,” I said.
    â€œA pony?” Aunt Peg looked up from unwrapping Zeke’s ears. “Isn’t that lovely? I had a pony when I was a little girl.”
    â€œYou did?”
    â€œYou shouldn’t sound so surprised, Melanie. I’m sure there