“I wanted to send her through a fake tan spray, but she wouldn’t go.” Laurel clucked her tongue. “She won’t win any awards looking like that, but I’ve done the best I could. The rest is up to her.”

“Technically, the rest is up to Wheezy.” Ruby nudged the golden retriever with the tip of one delicately shod foot. When that didn’t do more than cause him to grumble, she nudged harder. “Come on, slug-abed. It’s now or never. All the other dogs have been getting ready since sunrise.”

Wheezy rolled his eyes at her, looking exactly like Ruby had felt for the majority of her teenage life. Nothing was worse than slapping on a pair of heels and trotting around for a bunch of judges when all you wanted was to curl in a ball and cry, but that was the point. When you wanted something—truly wanted it—you had to suck it up and do it anyway.

That was the one thing Ruby had forgotten, the one thing she should have held on to as she ventured out into the real world for the first time. Naive wasn’t a word she’d have used to describe the hard-edged eighteen-year-old she’d once been, but that was the word that fit. Gowns were just sequin-covered fabric and trophies were only plated gold, but the drive it took to succeed in the world of pageantry—the determination, grit, and fierce, unyielding passion—was something special.

And she’d turned her back on it. She’d let it go.

“Not anymore,” she said aloud. The words were more for herself than for Wheezy, but he recognized the tone and heaved a sigh. He also heaved himself to his feet. He looked worse standing up than he had lying down, but that was okay.

Wheezy wasn’t going to win the West Coast Canine Classic. He wasn’t even going to come close. But he’d put in the effort and she’d promised Mrs. Orson to give him this opportunity, so they were going anyway.

And if Spencer so much as hinted that he’d slip Wheezy a few extra points when Eva’s and Lawson’s backs were turned, she was going to tell him exactly what he could do with them. His pity could go in the garbage and his charity up his ass.

She had her pageant face on and her dress zipped tight. She was ready.

“The doors don’t open to the public until three o’clock, so you two will have to find something to amuse yourselves until then.” She cast a stern look at the two women, who were already making plans for a liquid lunch at a nearby bar. “Please don’t embarrass me. Or Wheezy. We’ve both worked really hard for this.”