“That feels better, doesn’t it?” Her mother smiled brightly before pressing a kiss on both of Ruby’s cheeks. Ruby could feel the print of her signature rose lipstick leaving a mark and was oddly comforted by it. Some things would never change—and her mother, no matter how frustrating she could be, was one of them. “Bless you, love, for taking care of your poor old mom. Would you like some iced tea?”

“Yes, but only if you put sugar in it. You know I can’t stand it unsweetened.”

Her mom shuddered but didn’t protest, which said a lot about the current state of their relationship. Like Ruby only sticking her tongue out when she couldn’t be seen, her mom did her best not to comment on Ruby’s eating habits. It had taken ten long years to reach this precarious balance, not to mention Ruby threatening not to pick up the tab when her mother inevitably fell behind on her bills, but they’d reached it.

To Laurel Taylor, Ruby was and always would be the daughter who could have reached the top…but didn’t. Instead of the famous actress/model/arm candy for some rich millionaire that her mother had hoped she’d be, she was a nursing assistant whose BMI fell smack-dab in the middle of average. It was hard to tell which of those offenses hurt her mom the most.

“I’ll put two teaspoons in, but I can’t bring myself to sully it any more than that,” her mother warned as she moved efficiently through the kitchen. When she wasn’t working on marrying her own millionaire, her mother made ends meet by waitressing. It showed in how neatly she worked—and how lithe her form was. Nothing, she said, burned calories like waiting hand and foot on ungrateful customers. Unless it was waiting on ungrateful men. “Ruby Maynard Taylor, why is there a dog standing behind you?”

“Probably because I told him to stay put.” Ruby turned to glare at Wheezy, who stood panting and pleased with himself in the doorway to the kitchen. She had no idea how he’d managed to shrug his way out of his collar and leash, but he’d done it. “I’m sorry, Mom. I know how you feel about animals in the house. I tied him up under the tree in the front yard, but he always does the exact opposite of what I want. Watch. Come, Wheezy.”

Wheezy promptly slumped himself to the linoleum floor.

“Stay, Wheezy.”

He groaned himself back to a standing position and took a few tentative steps into the kitchen. Even her mother’s warning hiss didn’t stop him.

“I’ll give you a cookie, Wheezy. All you have to do is come closer.”