A spark of something combative flashed in Spencer’s eyes. All at once, Ruby was struck with how much better that spark suited those long lashes than Caleb’s insouciance. Eyes like that were meant to be taken seriously. Eyes like that were meant to carry fire.

“Fine.” Spencer stood up and took a step back. “Show him to me.”

“Um…” Ruby waved her hand in Wheezy’s general direction. “He’s right there.”

“No, I mean show him. Put him through his paces. Let me see what he can do.”

Ruby hesitated as she ran through her list of options. It wasn’t a long one. Wheezy’s skills included very little outside of eating and napping. Putting him in the spotlight—and with that dratted poodle looking on—wasn’t going to end well for any of them.

Except maybe the poodle.

“Wheezy, sit,” she said.

Wheezy didn’t sit.

She went for an easier one. “Wheezy, stay.”

In a move of pure perversity, the golden retriever started wandering down the hallway. A sound halfway between a laugh and a snort escaped Spencer’s mouth. That did more to set Ruby’s hackles up than all the rest combined. No man laugh-snorted at her and got away with it. At least, not unless she wanted him to.

“Wheezy, you stubborn beast, make us both look like fools,” she said.

This time, Wheezy happily complied. Discovering a half-open garbage can, he got up on his hind legs and started to explore its contents.

“Oh, for the love of Pete.” Ruby took off after the dog. She grabbed hold of his collar and tugged, but it was no use. It took a lot to get Wheezy animated, but once you did, he was a force to be reckoned with. Wheezy had discovered something delicious inside the garbage and had every intention of digging his way through until he found it.

To her surprise, a solid male form came up behind her. She didn’t need to look to know it was Spencer. The ease with which he extracted the golden retriever from the garbage can was clear proof of that.

“You can’t seriously plan to enter this dog in the West Coast Canine Classic,” he said. The hand he laid on Wheezy’s head was gentle even as he squared off against Ruby.

“Oh, I don’t,” Ruby replied, turning to meet him head on.

Relief started to touch Spencer’s lips, but Ruby stopped it short. “Wheezy isn’t just going to enter the dog show. He’s going to win. Can’t you tell a pedigree champion when you’re looking at one?”

Apparently, he could. “This dog is overweight.”

“Don’t be rude. Beauty comes in all shapes and sizes.”

“He isn’t properly trained.”

“That’s not true,” Ruby protested. “He knows all the commands. He just doesn’t always feel like listening to them.”

“He doesn’t look like a purebred.”