Ruby laughed. “How fancy. Next, you’ll be telling me that your living arrangement is a unique lifestyle modification instead of some weird brother rivalry.”

“And you’ll be telling me that Wheezy is a highly prized experimental breed instead of a golden retriever.” He paused and glanced down at the dog in question. “Actually, that one’s probably true. Except for the highly prized part.”

Somehow, he and Ruby had drawn closer during their conversation. They were still surrounded by the others, their every interaction being watched with interest, but for what was probably the first time, Spencer didn’t feel self-conscious about it. He was too busy trying not to fall under her spell. Ruby was fun and funny and had made everyone’s evening better because of it, but she wasn’t going to win. Not his dog show and not this battle of wills between them.

From the expression on her face, her lips curling in a self-satisfied smile, she didn’t agree. Probably because his hands were balled in fists at his sides. It was the only way he could keep himself from reaching out and kissing her.

And she knew it. Damn the woman. She knew it.

“I’ll carry Wheezy to your car,” Caleb offered before Spencer could do something drastic like unclench his fists and give in. “I doubt you’ll get him out of here any other way, and it seems as though I’ve got some errands to run whether I like it or not.”

Spencer was too relieved to hear that his brother was planning on going to his meeting to care that Ruby had once again gotten the better of him. He was also relieved to see that Wheezy put up a fight, rolling around like a dropped pencil in an attempt to prevent himself from being carried away.

That wasn’t a dog who was going to ruin his dog show. He couldn’t participate if no one could even manage to get him in the door.

Eva stood next to Spencer and watched the struggle take place. “Your brother seems to be enjoying himself,” she said as Caleb started listing all the words he could think of that rhymed with mayonnaise: paraphrase, Chevrolets, Bolognese. Only that last one seemed to interest the dog—which, considering how much he loved to eat, made sense. Wheezy was a lot more intelligent than he wanted them all to think. “You have to admit his offer to train with Ruby is working out well.”

Since Wheezy chose that moment to leap into the driver’s seat of Ruby’s ancient, faded Volkswagen, well was a generous term. She could hardly drive out of here with that dog in her lap.