Page 20 of I Hate You More

With so much on the line, most people treated the meet and greet exactly like what it was: an opportunity for breeders to meet other breeders, for handlers to chat about the latest in training techniques, and a chance for dogs to sniff and frolic and preen.

And for Wheezy, apparently, to take a nap.

“Just tell him about the exciting plans you have for tonight. That should get him to budge.” Ruby stood several feet away, a cell phone pressed against her ear, supremely unconcerned that everyone else had exited the gym a good ten minutes earlier. Being alone with Ruby wasn’t how Spencer would have chosen to end the evening, especially since he’d done a decent job of avoiding her for most of it, but both Eva and Lawson had families to get home to. They’d agreed a long time ago that Spencer’s single state meant that it was his privilege to clean up and clear out the stragglers.

In this case, stragglers meant Wheezy, who looked as though nothing short of a natural disaster would move him.

“What’s today?” Ruby asked with a tap of her fingernail against her teeth. “Wednesday? That means bingo and Jell-O at the rec center. Tell him about that.”

Spencer was standing a few paces back, well out of Ruby’s line of vision, but he didn’t miss the sound of a loud female voice coming through the phone receiver.

“Well, no,” Ruby replied when the voice had finished. “I don’t know that I’d get excited for bingo either, but it’s not like he knows the difference. Make something up.”

He watched as Ruby proceeded to hold the phone against Wheezy’s ear. The female voice on the other end coaxed and cooed, but it was no use. Wheezy slumbered on.

Without second-guessing the wisdom of his actions, Spencer strode forward and plucked the phone from Ruby’s hand. He had a strong desire to speak to the owner of this particular dog—and not just because she was a friend of Ruby’s. Anyone who woke up next to that animal every day and thought,This is an award-winning golden retriever if I’ve ever seen one, was seriously deluded.

“Do I have the honor of addressing Wheezy’s owner?” he asked. Ruby made a grab to take the phone from him, but he warded her off with one upheld hand. Since it seemed highly likely that the dog would only be exiting this building if Spencer picked him up and carried him out, this phone call seemed the least she could do in return.

“Who is this?” the voice demanded.

“My name is Spencer Wilson. I’m one of the judges of the West Coast Canine Classic.”

“Is that so? What are your qualifications?”

He was taken aback but didn’t hesitate to answer. “I’m a licensed veterinarian with over five years of experience running this dog show. What are yours?”

The woman didn’t hesitate either. “I don’t have any, but if that’s something you care about, Ruby is as pedigreed as they come.”

He didn’t dare look over at the woman in question. Ruby’s pedigree had never been in question. All it took was a glance to realizethat.

“Be that as it may, this is a competition that judges dogs, not humans.”

“Is that so?” she retorted. “Then why do you have me paying out the nose for a trainer to whip Wheezy into shape? Seems to me that a person’s capabilities have a little something to do with it.”

The woman had him there—especially since it was his own brother getting the payout. “It’s true,” he admitted. “But Caleb has been around dogs as long as I have, so you don’t have to worry about not getting what you paid for. I can personally vouch for him—in fact, I do.”

There was a humming sound on the other end of the phone, as though the woman wasn’t sure whether to believe him. She had no need to worry. Caleb might be the least responsible person Spencer knew, but dogs were the one thing he never failed at. Spencer was good at providing them with medical care and judging their behaviors, but Caleb was the one they turned to when they wanted anything more.

“The password is ‘mayonnaise.’”

Spencer blinked at this sudden change of subject. Unable to help himself, he cast a questioning look at Ruby. She stood with her arms crossed, one brow arched as she watched the conversation unfold.

“You’re the one who wanted to talk to her,” she said in a voice too low for the woman to overhear. “By all means, continue.”

“I’m not sure I understand,” he said. “What password?”

“It’s Wheezy’s green light,” the woman said.

“His green light to what?”

“To continue. You know—like a danger word.”

That didn’t clarify things in the slightest. “A danger word?”

Ruby choked on a sudden laugh.

“I’m afraid I’m not familiar with that term,” Spencer said carefully, mistrusting that laugh. Helikedit, obviously, but that was the problem. He liked a lot more about Ruby than he wanted to.