“It’s your show, too,” Spencer said. “If you’re uncomfortable with it, I’ll remove Wheezy from the list and talk to Ruby this afternoon.”

Lawson lifted both his hands and laughed. “Not on my account, you won’t. How much damage could one poorly trained, ill-bred dog do? No, don’t answer that. I keep forgetting I’ve met the poorly trained, ill-bred dog.” Gizmo brought Lawson the torn, shredded remains of the letter, and he sobered almost immediately. “Seriously, Spencer. It’s no problem. If you want me to forget I ever sent Wheezy’s DNA in, it’s done. I’ll take it to my grave.”

Spencer knew he meant it. He was the sort of man you could call to help you bury a dead body, no questions asked. It was a thing Spencer had always known about Lawson, but he’d never had anything approaching a dead body on his hands before.

Allowing a mixed breed in his dog show wasn’t as bad as murder, but it was close enough to count. And Spencer regretted nothing.

“Then it’s decided. We’ll keep this to ourselves, got it? As far as we know, Wheezy is a perfect specimen of a golden retriever. Ruby’s worked so hard to get him this far. We might as well give her a chance to see it through.”

Both men nodded their agreement. They also both allowed their expressions to fall into enormous grins. Spencer did his best to ignore them, to maintain a dignified upper hand, but there was no use.

“You could pretend to be shocked at my lack of morals,” he said.

“We could.” Caleb slung an arm around his shoulder and squeezed. “But where would the fun be in that?”

Chapter 16

“I don’t see why she couldn’t just bring him along to the orgy. It was the least she could do after all those orgasms he gave her.” From the other side of the living room, Mrs. Orson clucked her tongue. “Ruby, dear, don’t you agree?”

Ruby, who had been trying her best to discreetly slip into the book club meeting, gave a sudden start. “Agree with what? I’m sorry I’m so late. I was supposed to get off shift an hour ago, but Harry made me—”

“Multiple orgasms,” Mrs. Orson interrupted. Her stern look, leveled at Ruby over a pair of wire-rimmed glasses, made Ruby feel instantly guilty. These poor women had to deal with Harry on a daily basis; the last thing they wanted was for her to introduce him into the book club. This was a place of discourse and literature, of serious discussions about—“Wouldn’t you take your gentleman friend along with you to the sex club after that? Or would you leave him home alone to recover and rehydrate?”

Ruby glanced around the room, where half a dozen sweet, elderly women watched her expectantly. Darla Templecombe went so far as to wink.