He came to a stop and hopped out of the cab, careful to ensure his emergency veterinary bag was secure in the back. House visits weren’t as common nowadays as they used to be, thanks in large part to the offices that had started cropping up to offer twenty-four-hour vet services, but his practice still got the occasional late-night call. A dog-show judge might be able to get away with regular hours, but he’d always be a veterinarian first and foremost.

As Spencer walked up the dirt path toward the back door, he caught a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye. The white-and-brown blur drew closer until it stopped a few feet away. There it transformed into a bulldog—ancient, patient, and with his oversized tongue dripping so far out of the side of his mouth that it almost touched the ground.

“Caesar, for the last time, you don’t have to wait for permission.” Spencer patted his leg. “Come on, boy. Come say hello.”

At this cue, Caesar bounced up and ambled closer. His greeting was an enthusiastic—if wet—one, and Spencer might have allowed himself a moment to enjoy it if not for the sharp whistle that sounded from the other side of the house. The garage side.

“Some help you’re turning out to be, Caesar. You’re supposed to help me adjust the height of the tire jump, not wander off the moment my back is turned.” Caleb appeared beside the garage. He had a wrench in his hand and a whistle on his lips, both of which fell a few inches when he saw Spencer. “Ah. I didn’t hear you drive up.”

“I see you got yourself home okay,” Spencer said in as level a tone as he could muster. “You weren’t late getting back?”

Caleb reached down and patted his ankle. “Not by so much as a second. Sorry to disappoint you.”

Spencer felt his jaw grow tight. Contrary to what his brother thought, he wasn’t disappointed to find Caleb back home where he belonged. If anything, he felt nothing but deep, abiding relief. Even though it wasn’t his job to ensure that his brother followed the conditions of his house arrest—that was what his parole officer and ankle monitor were for—he still felt responsible.

“That was a pretty big risk you took, stopping by like that today,” Spencer said.

“You know me. Always living on the edge.”

“You’re supposed to go straight to the parole office and come straight home. No detours.”

“Stopping by to help my brother with his dog show isn’t a detour,” Caleb said, showing no sign of remorse. He grinned. “Especially since you needed all the help you could get. Have you ever seen a woman as beautiful as that one?”

No. Never. Not once in the entire thirty years Spencer had been living on this planet.