Puppy Love

by Lucy Gilmore

  Oh, how she loved these people. And, oh, how she resented them.

  “I don’t care what you do as long as you’re happy,” her mom said. Then, in direct contradiction to this, she added, “I also talked to Oscar this morning.”

  Sophie passed a hand over her eyes. This was so much worse than she’d feared.

  “You know I like to check in with him every few weeks to see how he’s doing,” her mom said, fully on the defensive. “I worry about him, living all alone as he does.”

  It was true. Poor Oscar had no idea what he’d gotten into the day he’d agreed to meet the girl whose life he’d saved. Not everyone agreed to the patient-donor meetings, since they could come with quite a bit of awkwardness, but her mother had been determined to thank Sophie’s savior in person. That had been ten years ago, and thanking him had been the least of it. Oscar was now invited to every holiday gathering, sent homemade baked goods at least every other week, and received regular phone calls from the family matriarch to ensure he didn’t want for anything.

  The Vasquez family didn’t do things by halves. They were like a gang that way. Once you were in, it was a lifetime deal.

  “He told me he has you helping him with a little project,” Alice continued.

  Dawn snorted. “Little isn’t the word I’d use to describe him.”

  Sophie shot her sister a warning look, but the damage was already done.

  “Oh?” their mother asked, her intense gaze shifting to Dawn. “So you had met the man before yesterday?”

  “Of course. He stopped by that first day to apologize after Sophie yelled at him.”

  “Sophie Josephine! You yelled at a client?” Her mother’s surprise lasted all of two seconds before it took a sharp turn. “Why? What did he do?”

  “I didn’t yell at him,” Sophie protested, her cheeks flushed at the memory. “It was more like a strongly worded conversation. Harrison is…difficult.”

  “Difficult?” her mom echoed. She gave Dawn a questioning look. “What does that mean?”

  “Don’t ask me. I’m not the one working with him. But he didn’t check off any of my serial killer boxes, so I’m sure Sophie will come out of this with all her skin intact.”

  “I’m not sure I trust your serial killer checklist, my love. I’ve met some of the men you’ve dated.”

  “It means exactly what you already wrangled out of Oscar and Paulette, Mom,” Sophie said with what she considered admirable patience. “He’s a large man, yes, and it takes him a while to warm up to people. But it’s not a big deal, I promise. I can handle him.”

  Her mother clucked in a way that could denote either sympathy or disbelief but was most likely a combination of the two. “Maybe you should hand this off to one of your sisters, sweetie. I know you mean well, but you don’t have Dawn’s experience when it comes to this sort of thing. Or Lila’s firm hand.”

  “He’s not a problem,” Sophie said, this time through her teeth. She knew she wasn’t as competent as her sisters. She knew she never would be. But she still deserved a life of her own, no matter how small.

  Ironically enough, Harrison would have been the first to back her up on that. He was so used to seeing her assert herself, watching as her self-confidence unfurled, that he probably wouldn’t recognize the woman she was when her family was around. He might not even like her when her family was around.

  To be perfectly honest, she wasn’t sure she liked herself that way.

  “You know what?” Sophie said, feeling a sudden urge to push back. “I like him. He works hard and he’s good with the puppy. He’s also a really good kisser, in case you were wondering.”

  This time, her mother’s clucking sound was closer to a growl. Sophie recognized that growl—knew it down to her bones. It was the sound of a mama bear awakening from hibernation. In a few seconds, the bear would be fully awake, prepared to throw herself on anyone who dared to even look at her precious cub the wrong way.

  Which was why Sophie decided to take matters into her own hands. Too many people—herself included—had been suffocated by that bear. All she wanted was a chance to breathe.

  Throwing caution and common sense to the wind, she added, “Besides, it doesn’t matter if he’d be better off with Dawn or Lila. It’s too late. We’ve already started the more specialized training. To back off now would only compromise the relationship between Harrison and Bubbles, which the puppy’s fear of fire has already strained.”

  “But—” her mother began.

  She was on a roll now and doubted whether she could stop even if she wanted to. “In fact, we’ve decided the best thing to do to help Bubbles get over it is for me to live in for the duration of the training.”

  Both women swiveled to stare at her.

  “Live in?” her sister echoed.

  “You can’t!” her mother cried.

  Sophie held up a hand to stop them both. She was proud to note that it didn’t waver in the slightest. “Stop, you guys. Lila did it last year with that nervous bichon, and no one said anything. You know it’s our standard operating procedure. If the puppy or the owner has difficulty adjusting, the trainer should be there as much as possible, even if that means around the clock.”

  Both women opened their mouths to protest, but Sophie didn’t let them speak. She couldn’t. She knew exactly what would happen if she did. They’d talk her back from the ledge, pull her into their arms, and stuff her with cookies and rainbows and promises that everything would be okay.

  She liked cookies, and rainbows were pretty, but things weren’t always okay. Life was hard and messy and, where Harrison was concerned, a bit of a battleground.

  And that, to be perfectly honest, was just fine with her.

  “Well, I’m finally going to admit it,” she announced. “This puppy has difficulties. A lot of them, actually, and I’m still not a hundred percent sure she’s going to work out. If Bubbles is going to battle forest fires someday, she’ll need lots of extra attention and lots of extra time. And I’ll have to do a few nights for the scent training anyway. It makes sense for me to stay there.”

  “But he’s practically a stranger,” her mom said. “And Paulette said she’d never heard such language before.” She looked to Dawn for support. “Honey, she can’t do this. Tell her.”

  Dawn appeared to struggle with herself. She was by far the most forgiving and fun-loving of all Sophie’s family members, but old habits died hard. She looked back and forth between them for a few seconds before shrugging and giving in. “How bad can he be? I mean, he’s a friend of Oscar’s.”

  “Yes, and Lord knows there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for that man, but this is taking things too far. Sophie’s not like you. She’s not—”

  Help came from an unexpected source, stopping their mother before she made the mistake of finishing that statement—not that Sophie needed to hear the rest. She already knew all the things she wasn’t: self-sufficient, significant, strong.

  “It’s not our decision to make though, is it?” Lila stood in the doorway to the kitchen, an apron over her clothes and a dishrag in her hands. Her sister must have been in there the entire time, listening in. “Soph, I’m assuming you already cleared it with the client?”

  Sophie, who had done no such thing, nodded a solemn lie. She was too surprised by Lila’s championship to do more. In personal and familial situations, there was nothing her sister wouldn’t have done to support her. Professional situations, however, were another story. Lila was a stickler for doing things by the book. She loved rules the way most people loved cupcakes—or, you know, puppies.

  “If it’s in the best interest of the placement, then it’s the right call.” Lila took one look at their mother’s face and laughed. “Relax, Mom. She’s twenty-six years old. She’ll be fine.”

  “Yes, but her health. If something should happen—”

  “The client has been diabetic nearly his entire life. I’m pretty sure he knows how to call an ambulance.”

 
Sophie had never felt so lifted up—or so close to being crushed. Lila and Dawn providing their support without once questioning her professional judgment was everything she’d ever wanted out of Puppy Promise. No one was reprimanding her for her handling of the case; no one was doubting her ability to make it work. It would have been her idea of heaven, if not for the fact that she didn’t need to live out at Harrison’s house.

  Nor, she suspected, would she be particularly welcome.

  “Don’t worry, Mom,” Dawn added. “You can still stay here with me and Lila, and we’ll do all the spa days you want. Look at her face—have you ever seen anyone who needs it more? There were three new wrinkles around her eyes this morning. I counted.”

  Lila, who had the smooth, unruffled beauty of a woman ten years her junior, gave a grimace. She also tossed the dish towel at Dawn’s head. “Just for that, I’m not finishing the dishes. You can eat off dirty plates for the rest of the day.”

  But Dawn tossed the towel to their mother, passing it on like a game of Hot Potato. “What good is having Mom come to stay unless we make her earn her keep? Don’t worry, Sophie—we’ll have her regretting her decision before the weekend’s up.”

  Alice laughed obligingly, but there was no mistaking her worried expression. She’d come all this way to rescue her beloved daughter, and she rarely backed down from a mission until she’d seen it all the way through.

  “You didn’t really kiss that man, did you, Sophie?” she asked. “That was just a joke?”

  Sophie paused, unsure how to tackle this rocky territory. She wanted to spare her mother’s feelings, of course, but not at the cost of her freedom. It was too powerful, too alluring, too new.

  In the end, she decided to trample forward. After all, it was exactly what she would have done to Harrison in this situation.

  “Oh, I kissed him, all right,” she said. “And if I have my way, I fully intend to do it again.”

  Chapter 12

  “Sit. Stay. Blink. Breathe.”

  Bubbles followed each of Harrison’s commands in succession, though he doubted he had much to do with those last two.

  “Good girl,” he said and gave his finger a twirl. “Now you may show me your outfit.”

  It was the moment Bubbles had been waiting for. The woman who’d been teaching him how to knit had gifted him a minuscule yellow sweater that the puppy had been dying to try on. Personally, he thought the sweater made her look like a piece of dryer lint, but Bubbles had never been so happy. He could almost swear she knew the difference between wearing a sock and sauntering about in doggy couture.

  She spun three times in succession before stopping with a wag of her tail. Lifting her head, she waited for the inevitable praise—and treat.

  He bestowed both with a lavish hand.

  “Yes, yes. I know. You’re beautiful and charming, and you won over every woman in that knitting circle with one friendly smile.” He sighed and tried to discreetly tug the box of supplies closer to them. “You and Sophie have that in common.”

  The trust Bubbles had in him was so absolute that she didn’t question the cardboard box sneaking closer to his side. He almost wanted to warn the poor creature—I’m not to be trusted; I’m going to betray everything—but he kept his lips sealed.

  “Now, I know it’s cruel to give a gift with strings attached, but I’m going to do it anyway,” he warned the puppy.

  Bubbles cocked her head.

  “And you’re not going to like these strings, but there’s nothing I can do about that. Life is hard sometimes. It’s just a thing we have to get used to.”

  A loud snort sounded behind them. “I see you’re imparting all your life wisdom to your offspring now,” his dad said. He stood in the doorway to the living room, leaning a little too casually on the frame for it to be a natural pose. “Don’t be surprised if she chucks it all in your face. That’s what children do.”

  “Noted, Dad. Thanks.”

  “What are you doing, anyway? It looks like you’re going to light a fire in the grate.”

  Harrison sighed again. “That’s because I am going to light a fire in the grate.” For some reason, putting the action into words felt like just as much of a betrayal as the actual task. Bubbles knew it too—her head cocked in alarm.

  His dad paused for an ominously long moment. “Sophie know what you’re doing?”

  And there it is. “Nope.”

  “Don’t you think you should check with her first?”

  “Nope.”

  “I think you should check with her first.”

  Harrison gave an involuntary chuckle. It wasn’t just the knitting circle ladies who would have gladly laid their lives on the line for Sophie’s sake. Or Oscar. Or, Harrison was forced to admit, himself. His dad had clearly fallen under the same spell as the rest of them.

  Not that he’d ever tell her as much out loud. He’d seen that look on her face yesterday when those two ladies had rushed to her rescue. No woman had ever wanted to be rescued less.

  No woman had ever needed to be rescued less too.

  “I know, but I want to surprise her,” Harrison said.

  He’d hoped that would be the end of the conversation, but his dad pushed off the doorframe and drew closer to examine the box’s contents. “That’s not going to make much of a blaze,” he said.

  Yes, well, that was the whole point of this exercise. A small fire. A small step. A small gift.

  It wasn’t much, but Harrison had racked his brain trying to come up with a way to show his appreciation for everything Sophie was doing for him. Gift-giving had never been his forte, but even he knew that the standard offerings—money, a thank-you card, jewelry, hand-knit yellow dog sweaters—wouldn’t suffice. Not when the thing she was giving him was so huge.

  And he didn’t mean the stupid weekend off. That was more punishment than gift: Friday, Saturday, Sunday. Three whole days of boring, quiet, empty living without her in it. It had only been one night, and he was already feeling the burden of it. He and Bubbles had enjoyed a long heart-to-heart last night about the merits of square-shaped versus circular kibble. This morning, their talk centered mostly on the crossword puzzle on the back of the cereal box.

  In other words, Harrison was just as pathetic a man now as he’d been a month ago. The only difference was he knew it now.

  So he’d use his three days, dammit. He’d use them hard. Since the day he’d walked into her kennel, Sophie had pushed him and encouraged him, supported him and yelled at him.

  But more than that, she believed in him.

  No one had ever believed in him before, and he wasn’t sure how to repay her. All he had to offer her was this one small thing, this one small success. He’d give it to her too. He’d give it to her if he had to sit here in front of the fireplace every day for the rest of his life, encouraging Bubbles to draw just a little bit closer to the flames.

  They might burn you, little one, but that’s the cost of being warm. That’s the cost of being alive.

  “Well, I’ll leave you to it,” his dad said with a shake of his head. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you. You’re fighting a losing battle.”

  “Believe me, Dad, I know,” he replied. “But I’m going to fight it anyway.”

  * * *

  “What do you mean, you’re not coming?” Derek Williams, a man Harrison would normally be glad to see standing on his front porch with a giant cooler and a fishing tackle box, frowned and set his burdens down. “It’s our annual trip. If we don’t go before the fire season starts, we won’t have another chance.”

  “I’m sorry.” Harrison could hear the skittering of tiny claws over the hardwood floors and angled the door more closely shut behind him. “I wish I could, but I have a thing.”

  “A thing?” Derek lifted one of his brows and tried peering around the door. “What kind of thing?”

  “A personal thing.”

  “False. You’ve never had a personal thing a day in your life. You’re the least so
ciable man I’ve ever known. What are you hiding back there?”

  “Nothing,” Harrison insisted—a lie that was quickly followed by a small thump as Bubbles made it to the door. Damn. She must have gotten through his kitchen barricade. That was the problem with rodent-size dogs: they could worm their way through the unlikeliest places.

  “It doesn’t sound like nothing.” Derek put a hand on the door and gave it a nudge. Fortunately, Harrison was expecting it. He was also a good forty pounds heavier than the other man, which meant his hold on the doorknob remained fast.

  Like most of his friends, Derek was part of the wildland fire crew, composed of equal parts muscle and nerve. Also like most of his friends, Derek was a persistent bastard. The two men had traveled through the fiery gates of hell together so many times it was impossible to maintain anything resembling emotional distance.

  A small whimper, almost humanlike, emitted from the tiny open crack.

  Derek’s eyes lit up. “Harrison, you wily bastard—that’s not nothing. That’s a woman. You’re hiding a woman on the other side of that door.”

  Aware that he could do nothing but give in, Harrison heaved a sigh. “You’re only half-correct. She’s female, but she’s no woman.”

  “What the—?” Derek began, but he didn’t have a chance to finish. The moment Harrison nudged the door open an extra inch, Bubbles shoved her way through, her tongue lolling with pleasure at having vanquished all the obstacles in her path and made it to her master.