She expected at least one of them to reply with something sarcastic and scathing, but the two women shared a look before pulling her into their arms.

“I’m so proud of you, Ruby,” one of them said. Ruby thought it might have been her mom, but she couldn’t be sure. And to be perfectly honest, she didn’t care. Both of these women meant so much to her—the one because she’d raised her to be a warrior, and the other because she’d reminded her what it meant to fight.

“I’m proud of me, too,” she said somewhat mistily. “But for the love of everything, please don’t show up drunk.”

* * *

The day of the West Coast Canine Classic was always chaotic.

Most of the stage was set up in the two days preceding the event. They timed the show to occur in summer so they had free access to the high school gymnasium, where vendors and rental companies transformed the bleak white walls into a glittering blue-and-gold canopy. Fortunately for Spencer, Lawson always handled most of the details out front. Spencer was fine setting the locker rooms up as temporary dog dressing rooms, and he was happy helping the Rotary Club set up concessions, but dangling tassels from the ceiling and aiming spotlights had never been his strong suit.

“She’s not here yet, so don’t ask.” Caleb sauntered up with his hands driven deep in his pockets, looking as though he didn’t have a care in the world—which he probably didn’t. Spencer’s brother had been nothing but supportive over the last few days, but that was easy when everything he cared about wasn’t on the line. “And, yes, I double-checked to make sure she and Wheezy are still on the list. As far as everyone here is concerned, she’s nothing more than an ordinary entrant with a well-trained and well-bred dog to show—though I’m sure they’ll revise that opinion after three-point-four seconds.”

Spencer knew his brother was just trying to calm his nerves, but that only served to make them jitter harder.

“What if she doesn’t come?” he demanded. “What if I never see her again?”

Caleb cast an obvious look around the main gym, where Lawson was overseeing the final touches being put into place. About half the dogs were already here, many of them in curlers with scarves wrapped around their carefully coiffed hair as they underwent their final preparations. An air of expectancy and excitement filled the air, months of hard work finally coming together. A few dogs were sniffing out the obstacle course; a few more were sniffing each other. It was all so familiar to Spencer, his favorite day of the year. Christmas was fine and birthdays were okay, but this—this was something worth celebrating.

Dogs. Dogs everywhere. Dogs who’d worked hard and played hard and lived hard. Dogs who loved hard.