Ruby turned her attention to the second Wilson twin, grateful for the opportunity to gain her bearings. She didn’t love the idea of spending the next two months with Caleb, but she didn’t have any other choice. Dog trainers didn’t grow on trees—especially ones who knew the West Coast Canine Classic as intimately as this man did.

If she was going to win—and she was—she needed to pull out all the stops.

“I know he needs work,” she said. “That’s why we’re here.”

“Does he attack everyone he finds on the ground, or just the ones who judge him for a living?” Caleb asked.

“He’s not attacking him,” Ruby protested, watching as Spencer struggled to free himself from underneath the squirming mass of dogs. To be honest, she was happy to find that the grumpy-looking bulldog appeared to be as poorly behaved as Wheezy, though she could hardly blame either one of them. Wrestling with a half-dressed Spencer Wilson didn’t look like a bad way to spend an evening.

It was a terrible way to spend the evening, obviously, but… She tilted her head and watched as Spencer gave in and allowed himself to be buried under all that canine affection. Not bad. Not bad at all.

“He’s excited about his training,” she lied. “And from being cooped up in the car.” Louder, she added, “I’m so sorry about this. Wheezy! Wheezy, you promised to be on your best behavior.”

Wheezy paid no more attention to her than he had any other time she tried to command his attention. It was almost enough to make her wish she was back at work, toiling under Harry’s mocking stare.

Almost.

“Shouldn’t you go over there and help?” she asked. “I’d try to save your brother myself, but Wheezy delights in doing the exact opposite of what I say. I’d only end up making things worse.”

“Can’t,” Caleb said with a half shrug. “It’s not my side of the yard.”

“Your side of the yard?” she asked, but Caleb didn’t answer. He emitted a sharp whistle instead. It had the effect of bringing the elderly bulldog to attention. The animal gave up on his playful attack and lumbered happily across the grass to park himself at Caleb’s feet, his tongue so heavy with exertion that it dripped out the side of his mouth.

Wheezy didn’t go so far as to obey the summons, but he did tilt his head in interest—and stopped trying to dig himself into Spencer’s lap, which was the most important thing.

“There. I saved him for you,” Caleb said. “What’s my reward?”

“Your reward?” she echoed again.

Caleb flashed her a smile. “Don’t worry. I’m sure we’ll think of something before our session is through. I can be a very good boy when I put my mind to it.”