Puppy Love

by Lucy Gilmore

  “No, he’s not. He’s just a little crusty. You both are. But believe me when I say it doesn’t make either one of you unattractive.” A shy gaze flicked up and down his body. “If anything, it only adds to your appeal.”

  His heart gave a stutter. “You think my dad is attractive?”

  “Well, no. But that’s only because I have my sights set on someone else.”

  He didn’t ask. He couldn’t. To hear those words out loud would only mean he’d have to face the reality of them and admit the truth.

  He didn’t just like Sophie anymore. He liked her a lot.

  It was, without question, the worst thing that could have happened. This game of theirs—the push and pull, the breaking of barriers—was just that. A game. Playing, she’d called it. Pushing this way. Playing a little. Nowhere in that was there any hint of permanence. Nowhere in there did she promise anything more.

  Fortunately, there were other issues he could focus on. None of them were more pressing than the desire that was taking over both his body and his reason, but he could pretend.

  He had to.

  “He told me he was going to the bar this morning,” Harrison said.

  “He goes to bars before noon?”

  “Morning, noon, and night.” He nodded. “I warned you that Parks men are no good. But he wasn’t wearing that when he left this morning. In fact…”

  He’d thought it was odd at the time, but his father had left the house wearing the exact same pair of overalls he’d had on yesterday. The man might dress like a farmer left out too long in the sun, but he was pretty fastidious about cleanliness. All those years in police uniform would do that to a man.

  “What is it?” Sophie asked.

  Harrison shook his head, hoping to corral his thoughts into order. Bubbles, Sophie, his dad, red pants—it was a lot to take in.

  “Nothing. I just…” He frowned. “He has been going to the bar a lot lately. More than usual. But not even he can nurse a drink for ten hours every day, and what’s he even doing in Spokane? He never leaves Deer Park unless he has no other choice.”

  A sound almost like a squeak left Sophie’s mouth. “It is a date! A secret date he doesn’t want you to know about.”

  He grunted to indicate how ridiculous he considered that idea.

  She ignored it, latching on to the theme with an enthusiasm not even Bubbles could rival. “Do you think he met her online? Do you think they’re Facebook friends? Ooh, do you think he Tinders?”

  “Sophie Vasquez, if you know what’s good for you, you will never refer to my dad and Tinder in the same sentence again.”

  She giggled. “What? Everyone has needs.”

  “Yes, and my father suppresses them the way all isolated, bad-tempered men do.”

  “Is that what you do?” she asked.

  He didn’t know how to answer her. It was the sort of question that would, a few weeks ago, have caused him to break down and turn off, storming away from the conversation. Now, however…

  “Let’s just get the stupid red cotton-candy yarn,” he muttered.

  That wasn’t even close to what he wanted to say, but it was the only thing he could think of in the heat of the moment. Sophie said knitting would help relax him, so he’d knit. He’d knit until his fingers bled. He’d knit until he forgot how good it felt just to stand next to this woman in a yarn store, discussing his private life as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

  He yanked the yarn from the shelf, almost bringing an entire rainbow column descending upon them both. It made him irrationally angry, to be felled by so much tantalizing softness, so he turned on Sophie with a glare. “But I want it stated for the record that if Bubbles turns into a wanton harlot after this, I’m holding you personally responsible.”

  “Got it.” She held up her fingers in a mock Girl Scout salute. “As a wanton harlot myself, I promise to welcome her to the ranks with open arms.”

  “Goddammit, Sophie! That isn’t what I meant.”

  Her sparkling laughter caused several heads to turn their way. So much public scrutiny would normally have Harrison ducking into the back of the store, but all Sophie did was reach up on tiptoe and plant a kiss on his cheek. The soft press of her lips was quick and light, but it still had the power to ignite the desire that he no longer knew how to control.

  He would control it though. He had to.

  “I know it wasn’t,” she said, smiling up at him. “But I had to say something to do justice to Dawn’s pants. You don’t know her very well yet, but believe me when I tell you she’d be proud.”

  Chapter 10

  “I did loop that piece around my finger, see? It fell off before I could hook it on the other thingy. Why do they make these needles so slippery?”

  The woman sitting next to Harrison, who was guiding his large, rough hands under her own, clucked her tongue as he tossed the ruined knitting aside. “They have to be slippery, dear. Otherwise, they’d slow you down once you get the hang of it.”

  “If I ever get the hang of it,” he said. “My hands are too damn big to do it right.”

  He cast an accusing look at Sophie, but she sent him an apologetic shrug in reply. Retaliation wasn’t an option when her sister Dawn was sitting next to her, watching every interaction like it was a soap opera written especially for her. Dawn wasn’t much of a knitter, but when Sophie told her that Harrison had not only agreed to come to the circle, but had chosen his own yarn for the occasion, she’d insisted on witnessing the event for herself.

  Naturally, nothing Sophie could do or say would stop her.

  “Nonsense,” the woman said. “You’re just not used to it yet, that’s all. Now try that bit again, and this time do it without all the damn profanity, if you please.”

  Harrison’s rare smile lit his face. “Yes, ma’am. Sorry, ma’am. I’ll do my best, ma’am.”

  He said something more, but Sophie was unable to distinguish it from where she sat on the other side of the church basement. The room where they’d gathered was large and damp and lit with an ancient fluorescent light that buzzed in and out like it had a dozen angry bees trapped inside. The lack of ambiance and stale scent of coffee didn’t stop the half dozen women from meeting here every week to ply their needles making hats, scarves, and socks to be shipped off to those in need.

  “Oh, wow,” Dawn said in a low voice that bubbled over with laughter. “You were right about his smile, Soph. That’s a hell of a thing for one man to wield.”

  Yes, Sophie was well aware of that fact. On Harrison, a smile wasn’t just an expression of joy—it was a transformation. It was a momentary glimpse at a man who existed somewhere just beyond her reach.

  “You’ll notice that he didn’t actually direct it at me,” Sophie pointed out.

  “Well, the smolder isn’t bad either, so that’s no real loss,” Dawn said. “I finished this one. Hand me another, will you?”

  Sophie paused knitting long enough to hand Dawn a tangled skein of yarn to unfurl and roll into a ball. Although Sophie had been knitting for years—a hobby developed during one of her many long stays in bed—her sister didn’t have the patience to sit still for extended periods of time.

  “How’s the little darling doing, by the way?” Dawn asked.

  For a moment, Sophie thought the little darling in question was Harrison, and she wasn’t sure how to answer. As a client, Harrison was almost too good to be true. Oh, he grumbled, of course, but that was more from habit than a desire to prevent her from doing her job. Ever since that day in the yarn store, he’d done everything she’d asked with efficiency and a resolution that could only be described as dogged.

  It was almost as though he was afraid of what would happen if he fought back again—of what he might do if he let Sophie push him into tearing down the wall one more time. He was subdued and compliant, determined not to let anything push him too far. Not even a shirt that opened at the back to reveal a strappy, crisscross patterned bra had been able to move hi
m.

  “She seems to be settling in well,” Dawn continued. “Even Lila’s starting to come around. She’s no longer looking for families who might want to adopt her if everything fails.”

  Oh. Yes, Bubbles was the little darling. Because she was little. And a darling.

  “Um.” Sophie willed the blood away from her cheeks and said the first thing that popped into her mind. “She’s doing great, just great. No problems, no worries.”

  “None at all?” Dawn asked without looking up from her pile of yarn.

  “Well…”

  Sophie bit her lip and pretended to work through a particularly complicated cable stitch. She’d never been a great liar, especially where her sisters were concerned, but she wasn’t sure how to respond in a way that was truthful and wouldn’t undermine her progress.

  “To be honest, she’s still wary of a few things,” she said and superstitiously crossed her knitting needles since her fingers were busy.

  “What kind of things?”

  Oh, you know. Fire. Flames. The catastrophic infernos Harrison had dedicated his life to subduing.

  “Um. She didn’t react very well to a fire Harrison started in his fireplace one morning. She seems to be doing okay with your candles though.”

  “My candles? When has she been anywhere near my candles?”

  “Didn’t I tell you?” Sophie looked up at her sister with her most innocent expression. From the way Dawn was watching her, her eyes narrowed and her nose wrinkled at the tip, Sophie knew she was nearing trouble. “I took a few over as a…gift. To win over Harrison’s dad. He likes the bergamot one. He says it helps him sleep.”

  “That’s not a surprise, Soph. But they’re awfully strong, and you know it’s not a good idea to confuse the puppy’s sense of smell this early on. Not while—”

  “Of course I know that!” she protested. The moralizing note in Dawn’s voice was veering far too close to Lila’s for Sophie’s peace of mind. “The ones in the rest of the house and Harrison’s room are unscented. I’m not an idiot.”

  “Why do there need to be candles in Harrison’s room at all?” The question was asked with heavy suspicion, but Dawn’s imagination soon took over. “Ooh, don’t tell me—I can make several guesses, and all of them are rated Not for Church Basements. You made it to the crop top already, didn’t you?”

  Sophie winced. Unfortunately, there was nothing sexy or fun about Harrison’s bedroom candles. She had him lighting three of them at a time in there now. Bubbles seemed to tolerate them without too much fuss, but there was no denying she wasn’t a fan. She had a tendency to turn her head away and burrow into Harrison’s chest, pretending the flickering lights weren’t there. She was like a child closing her eyes and willing the monster under the bed away.

  In other words, the puppy was still scared, still a liability, still a failure on paper.

  But paper only told part of the story. A person was more than the sum total of their awards and accolades, had more to offer than the sad, sorry tale told by their medical records. And so was a puppy.

  All she needed was a few more weeks with Harrison and Bubbles, a few more weeks without a pair of well-meaning sisters peering over her shoulder. The trouble was convincing them of it.

  “Dawn, I—”

  A loud, impatient siren interrupted her before she could come up with a story that wouldn’t perjure her soul.

  Because the basement was isolated from the rest of the church, the red blaring lights and screaming whir hit as if from out of nowhere. However, not one of the ladies in attendance showed signs of distress. An introductory cooking class was held in the upstairs kitchen the same night as the knitting circle. Half the time, they got to sample an array of cookies and pancakes as they left for the evening. The other half of the time, someone burned the cookies and pancakes, and everyone had to immediately evacuate the building.

  As the acrid scent of charred carbohydrates wasn’t too far behind the whirring alarm, it seemed tonight was going to be one of the latter instances.

  Ladies stabbed knitting needles into balls of yarn as they got to their feet, stretching and yawning and grumbling about which of the unfortunate pupils had done the damage this time. Sophie rose to join them only to glance over at Harrison and realize her mistake.

  Or, to put it more accurately, she glanced over at Bubbles and realized her mistake. The puppy, already showing signs of distress at the loud noises and sudden commotion, had also noticed the shifting scent in the air. All the fur on her little body stood on end, and even Sophie had to admit that her eyes looked an awful lot like sad raisins.

  “Sad, wet raisins,” she said with a groan.

  “What are you talking about?” Dawn asked, but there was no time to answer her. The moment everyone started shuffling for the stairs, the puppy decided she wasn’t about to be abandoned to the fire and left for dead. Harrison reached for her, his arms swooping down to rescue her from the terrors all around, but it was no use.

  With one last scared yip of protest, Bubbles tore away.

  Sophie was closest to the stairs, so she jumped up to try and head Bubbles off. All she managed to do was run into the nice woman who’d been teaching Harrison how to knit, almost knocking her over in the process. The skitter of puppy nails on wood stairs indicated that Sophie was going to have to move faster if she planned on catching Bubbles before the animal escaped somewhere with real hazards.

  She was halfway up the stairs before she realized she wasn’t alone in her pursuit. Harrison’s tread was surprisingly light for a man his size, and he reached the door at the top of the stairs the same time she did.

  “You’d better let me.” His hands came down on either side of her waist and lifted her neatly out of the way. The ease with which he was able to physically set her aside, his palms almost spanning her waist, was impressive. “I’ll be able to catch her faster on my own. She won’t want a search party after her.”

  “Now isn’t the time to play hero, Harrison.” She clutched at his forearm. “The street.”

  He caught her meaning in an instant. The church was located on a fairly busy street off the freeway, which meant cars zipped by much faster than they would have on an ordinary city road. With everyone filing in and out of the building, it would be all too easy for Bubbles to head outside and straight into traffic.

  “She won’t—” he began, his face pale.

  “She might.”

  Without another word, they both pushed through the doorway, heedless of the way their bodies pressed together, fitting so perfectly they might have been built to squeeze and slide as one.

  “I’ll take the north exit,” Harrison said, his voice clipped. “You go through the back hallway and take the south. She won’t go in the direction of the kitchen—not while there’s smoke. Two long whistles if you find her. Three if she makes it outdoors. I’ll do the same.”

  He turned on his heel and moved off in the direction he’d indicated, not checking over his shoulder to make sure Sophie was following his instructions. There was no need. Harrison’s abrupt manner might not have made him the easiest man to get to know, but there was no denying its power. Sophie had been attending knitting circle in this church for two years and couldn’t have mapped all the exits if she wanted to. He had appraised the building at a glance.

  It was impossible not to feel reassured by his commands, empowered by his confidence. Whatever else one could say about the man, he knew his fire safety.

  Sophie pushed past several people evacuating in the opposite direction, determined to do justice to Harrison’s faith in her ability to rescue his puppy. The back hallway was long, but it was empty, which made searching it easy. There was nowhere for Bubbles to cower and hide, nowhere she could take cover during a mad dash to safety. The door at the end of the hallway was still closed, and the emergency exit alarm untriggered.

  “Bubbles!” Sophie called, not expecting an answer but determined to do something anyway. “Come on out, love. The fire�
�s all gone now. You’re safe.”

  No yapping response or puppy whimper met her ears. She spun on her heel, holding her breath as she waited for any kind of whistle from Harrison, but all she could hear was the clamoring fire alarm in the distance.

  “Think, Sophie,” she commanded herself. “You’re tiny, you’re terrified, and you’re in a strange place. Where do you go?”

  The answer to that question was more difficult to come up with than she would have thought. Tiny and terrified were two things she’d felt more times than she cared to admit, and it hadn’t been uncommon for her to fall asleep in one hospital only to wake up in another halfway across the state.

  But she’d never really been alone when it happened. If her sisters or parents hadn’t been hovering anxiously nearby, there had been scores of friendly nurses and doctors, every one armed with a smile and a promise that they’d take care of her, and would she like a warm blanket to help her feel better?

  But Bubbles hadn’t had that. She spent her first few months of life isolated and ignored, curled up in a wire cage that offered no protection or comfort. She craved small, dark spaces and warmth. She wanted to feel less alone, if only for a few minutes.

  “The ruffled bedroom,” Sophie said aloud. She might not have known all the fire exits in this church, but she did recall once seeing a nursery. A cursory peek inside had revealed several cribs, toy boxes, and play structures to keep the little ones entertained during the service.

  It also had a ruffled toddler bed for anyone who needed an impromptu nap. She wasn’t sure what it was about those swaying bits of fabric that appealed to the puppy, but they did. If that was the first place she went in Harrison’s house, there was a good chance she’d do the same thing here.

  Sophie found the nursery behind the third door she checked. It was slightly ajar, which made her think she was on the right track—a feeling that intensified at the sound of a light snuffling. As was the case the last time she’d found Bubbles in this situation, she dropped to her stomach and scooted under the bed, lulling the puppy with a conversation that was mostly nonsense.