This conversation had taken a dangerous turn, but Spencer didn’t know how to extricate himself without making things worse. What he’d have liked to do was offer an easy reply—be more like Caleb, who could discuss porcupines and voyeurism with a gorgeous woman as if it meant nothing—but he couldn’t.

It didn’t mean nothing. Not to him, at least. It never had. That was the whole problem. His brother could meet a woman like Ruby and enjoy a brief, playful flirtation—the kind of flirtation that a dog-show judge and contestant might be able get away with, assuming they kept things discreet—but not Spencer. Within seconds of meeting this woman, he’d known himself to be way in over his head.

And instead of heading up for air, he just seemed to be diving deeper and deeper.

“The dog’s danger word is ‘mayonnaise,’” he blurted out.

She blinked. “What?”

He didn’t have to explain himself. As soon as the word crossed his lips, Wheezy lifted his head, his eyes wide open and his nose twitching.

“Is that how it works, Wheezy?” he asked, eager to latch on to anything other than the topic at hand. “You like mayonnaise?”

As if on cue, the golden retriever extended both paws out in front of him and executed a bow. It wasn’t an unusual position for a show dog. It was, however, an unusual position for a dog who balked at every command thrown his way.

Instead of being impressed by this sudden show of docility, Ruby drew closer, her eyes narrowed. “I wouldn’t trust it,” she warned. “He’s up to something.”

“He’s a dog. He’s hardly plotting a bank heist. Watch.” He snapped his fingers to draw Wheezy’s attention. “Mayonnaise, Wheezy. May-o-nnaise.”

Once again, Wheezy proved himself a paragon of show-dogmanship by twirling in a circle. He also grinned up at Spencer in a way that proved he was fully aware of his actions. It was the expression of a dog who knew he was being a Very Good Boy and who wanted to be acknowledged for it.

Spencer had always been a sucker for oversized brown eyes. “That’s right, Wheezy,” he said, patting him gently on the head. “What a good dog you are. What lovely manners.”

“I’m still not buying it,” Ruby said. She put up a hand to nudge Spencer a few steps back. The touch on his chest was light and impersonal, but he felt the imprint of it long after her hand fell away. “Wheezy, it’s high time we mayonnaised out of here and headed home.”

The dog blinked up at her.

“You can even ride in the front mayonnaise, if you want.”

His eyes started drooping.

“I’ll open the mayonnaise and you can hang your head out the whole way.”

He started to lower himself to the floor once again.