“The platform is just a theory I have,” Ruby said as the pair of them headed out the back door toward the temporary storage pod that had been sitting in the backyard for more years than Ruby could remember. “Wheezy is the laziest dog in the world, and he refuses to do anything I tell him, but he has a flair for drama. I’m hoping a stage will motivate him, give him a little oomph.”

Her mom stopped the key in the middle of the lock. “Where on earth are you going to put it? Not here, I hope. Ruby, I don’t have room and—”

Ruby shook her head before her mother went down a rabbit hole of unnecessary excuses. “It’ll go up at the dog trainer’s house. Caleb said I could bring anything I wanted.”

“Caleb?” her mom asked in the least nonchalant voice possible. She turned the key and pulled open the storage door to reveal a treasure trove of pageant paraphernalia. Every color of the rainbow glittered and gleamed; it was like peering up a unicorn’s ass. “Is that the man who…?”

Ruby shook her head, grateful that she’d worn her hair down so the curls fell over her face. The last thing she needed was for her mother to realize just how deeply Spencer had affected her. All those things she’d said about him were true—he had tried to keep her out of the competition, he was good-looking, and he did seem to think there was no way Ruby could be a doctor—but those qualities didn’t turn her off. On the contrary, she found herself able to think of little else.

“Caleb is the dog trainer. A nice enough guy, but not my type.” Ruby lifted a finger in warning. “Before you tell me that it never hurts to try something new, I should also point out that he lives with his brother and doesn’t have a bathroom. I don’t think dog-show trainers make very much money.”

“He doesn’t have a bathroom?”

“Don’t ask. It only gets weirder from there.” Ruby hoisted herself into the pod, her cell phone on flashlight mode as she searched for the equipment in question. The hula hoops and baton kit were easy enough to find, but the handmade stage was larger than the rest of the gear. It was shoved all the way in the back, buried behind racks of dresses and more shoes than any human being should own. She’d once pointed out to her mother, on a day when both of their bank accounts were running low, that they could sell their hoard and clear five figures, but she might as well have suggested they sell their internal organs.

“I hope you haven’t hit the gym yet today,” Ruby said as she appraised the monumental task before them. “Because we’re about to get a workout.”