House calls had always been Spencer’s favorite part about being a veterinarian. After graduation, he’d toyed with the idea of setting up a rural practice that would require him to spend the majority of his time on the road and in the homes of those he served, but Eva had convinced him to set up shop in the city instead.

He was glad she’d done it, but he still enjoyed the simple pleasures of meeting an animal on his own turf, to provide care in an environment that was comfortable and familiar. Every pet, from a tarantula to a potbellied pig, showed to best advantage at home.

Except, of course, Wheezy.

“How much marijuana did he consume, and how long ago would you say it entered his system?” he asked as walked into the bedroom where the group of formidable old women had directed him. He wasn’t the least bit surprised to find the golden retriever in a state of psychoactive lethargy, his breathing and heart rate slowed as the drug took effect, but he was surprised by the state of the woman holding him in her lap.

Ruby looked—and smelled—as if she’d been through war. She’d obviously been at work for most of the day, her scrubs wrinkled and her hair once again pulled back in a tousled ponytail, but that wasn’t what struck him most. For reasons he had yet to understand, her hands and arms were covered in a series of splotchy red welts that seemed to be working their way up her neck and toward her face. For reasons he did understand, the scent of dog urine floated around her like a cloud. Wheezy had obviously lost control of his bladder at some point.

“No one seems to know the exact amount, but from the way the other loaf of bread smelled, I’m guessing quite a bit—and it was medical-grade, so it’s the strong stuff. He ate it before I got here, which was a few minutes after five.” This information was rattled off efficiently and in a manner that did Ruby’s scrubs justice. When she glanced up, however, it was with the expression of a woman who was prepared to hear the worst. “He’s really out of it, Spencer. I don’t think he’s aware that I’m here.”

“He knows.” Spencer had no doubts on that score. The dog was curled up in her lap, soft yaps escaping every time she lifted her hand from his head. Her presence was the only thing keeping him from falling into a drug-fueled panic. “No—don’t get up. I’ll examine him where he is.”