Page 78 of I Hate You More

“You don’t get to say that and then refuse to judge me and Wheezy,” she said. “You don’t get to say that and then resign. I can take whatever you have to throw at me. Iwilltake it. And then I’ll come back next year and try again—and the year after that and the year after that. It might take me another decade, but you’ll see what I’m capable of.”

His heart swelled at the fierce determination that tightened her jaw and pursed her lips, caused the skin underneath all that glitter to glow.

“I already know what you’re capable of,” he said. “And I became ineligible as a judge the moment you stood in my living room and dared me to admit how I felt about you. You know that as well as I do.”

She faltered, the firm set of her lips quavering at the edges. Tears sparked in her eyes, but he already knew she wouldn’t let them fall.

“You are, without a doubt, the most determined, kindhearted, resilient person I know,” he said. He gave in to the urge to grab her hand. Like the rest of her, it was shining and perfect from a distance. Up close, however, it still bore several large welts and angry red patches.

He lifted that perfectly imperfect hand to his lips and kissed it.

“I don’t need a pageant or a dog show to tell me any of that. Trust me—anyone who’s spent more than five minutes in your company knows it.” Ruby made a motion to draw her hand away, but he held fast. “Which is why I found a replacement judge who will not only rip you and Wheezy to pieces but who will most likely leave both of you in tears before this day is through.”

Her hand stilled in his. “You did what?”

He chuckled softly. “Did you think I was going to leave this whole thing to Eva and Lawson? I love them both to death, but they’re not nearly harsh enough to provide the criticism these animals need. And yes, Wheezy, I’m talking to you. You are, without a doubt, the poorest specimen of a show dog I’ve ever seen in my life. Even with those falsified papers—”

Ruby stiffened and placed herself in a protective stance in front of the dog. “You can’t prove that DNA test was his. I never agreed to it. Mrs. Orson didn’t give her consent.”

“Even with those falsified papers,” he echoed, fighting the laugh that rose to his lips, “I predict that you two will go down as the worst candidates the West Coast Canine Classic has ever had the misfortune to see. And I’m including a few years ago when a bull terrier and an Irish wolfhound got into the school kitchen and ate three bags of frozen fish sticks.”

“Is that a challenge?” she asked, her shoulders squared to meet him. Spencer had never been so happy to see anything in his life. There was still a lot that had to be said between them, and he wasn’t sure if Ruby would ever be able to forgive him, but she was back to fighting form, and that was all that mattered.

“Yes, Ruby,” he said, meeting her gaze and holding it. “It is.”

“Then you’d better point me in the direction of the dressing room.” She wrapped the end of Wheezy’s leash firmly around her hand and gave it a tug. “Wheezy and I have a lot of work to do.”

Chapter 22

“That dog, I’m sorry to say, is the least qualified golden retriever I’ve ever witnessed in action.”

Ruby stood in the center of the show ring, where Wheezy lay in an unmoving heap. Several hundred people were seated on the bleachers on either side of her—both unfamiliar faces and familiar ones, including Mrs. Orson, her mother, and Eva’s entire family. An announcer in a gold jacket stood poised with a microphone placed to his lips, but for the first time in the hour he’d been at work, he had nothing to say.

The judge was saying it all for him.

“I don’t know who sold you this animal or what convinced you to enter him in a dog show, but he’s an abomination against everything the AKC upholds.” The judge, a woman of about Ruby’s age in a well-cut suit and black head wrap, lifted a finger and pointed it at Wheezy. “He’s sluggish. He has poor stature. His head is well formed and he has intelligent eyes, but he needs some serious grooming before he comes anywhere near this competition again. And don’t even get me started on his training.”

Ruby nodded her understanding and continued to let the wave of criticism wash over her. It felt good, like a baptismal cleansing followed by a painfully deep massage. She knew it. She’d known it all along. Wheezy was the last dog on earth who should be given a trophy, either because she was in a sort-of relationship with one of the dog-show organizers or because he was anything approaching show-quality.

He was, quite literally, the worst.

Ruby braced herself for more feedback along the same lines. It was no more than she deserved. For the past ten minutes, she’d been unable to haul Wheezy away from the show ring. Exhausted with the labors of being brushed and fed and lavished with an inordinate amount of care, he’d had enough.

But when the judge spoke again, it wasn’t to her.

“Then again, I don’t know what I expected from an animal trained by Caleb Wilson. Let me guess… You thought you could charm him into doing your bidding, is that it? A smile and a laugh, and you’d have him eating out of the palm of your hand?”

Caleb nudged Ruby out of the way to take her place in the hot seat. Like her, he’d been unable to get Wheezy to do much of anything once the dog decided that the most ideal place to nap was directly in front of the judging table. Unlike her, he’d been laughing almost the whole time.

“I can’t charm anyone into doing something they weren’t already planning to do,” he countered. “You should know that better than anyone, Jada. I only provide an outlet for the urges that are already there.”

Ruby had never been more grateful for her years of stage training. She called on every ounce of willpower she had to stop herself from laughing out loud. She’d been so caught up in getting Wheezy to jump through at leastonehoop before he exited the show ring that she’d failed to notice the way that judge was eyeing Caleb.

It was a sensation she’d felt toward the other Wilson twin far too many times to be ignorant of its power. There was deep, unyielding annoyance in that gaze…and way more lust than was good for anyone.

On the other side of the judges’ table, Eva covered her own amusement with a cough. “As much as I’m sure we’d all love to debate Mr. Wilson’s capabilities as a dog trainer, I think we should get things moving. Lawson, do you think you could, ah, urge our contestant to leave the ring?”

Lawson rose to his feet and cracked his knuckles. With an apologetic shrug for Ruby, he started to make his way toward them. The sound of a familiar male voice stopped him before he made it halfway.