Puppy Love

by Lucy Gilmore

  “No, that’s much too cliché,” she agreed gravely.

  “And not flowers.”

  “They never last.”

  He shifted from one foot to the other. “I was thinking a puppy might make a nice present, but I don’t know what kind to get. You know women and puppies. What do you think?”

  Sophie thought quite a few things, not the least of which was that a dog made a terrible gift unless you knew with absolute certainty it would be welcomed. Dropping an animal with a bow around its neck on a person was akin to leaving a baby in a basket on their front doorstep.

  “I don’t know, Wallace, a pet is an awfully big commitment.”

  Instead of taking offense at her words, Wallace perked. “Yes, that’s it. A commitment.”

  “I mean, are you sure she even wants a pet?”

  That one got to him. “Well, of course I do,” he said. “I’m not a born idiot.”

  “Yes but wanting a pet and being able to take care of one are two different things.”

  “Now see here, young lady!” Wallace puffed up his chest and lowered his brow, looking so much like Harrison, Sophie was hard put not to laugh. “I asked for your advice, not your opinion. If you must know, Minerva and I are going to move in together. I’ll be the one doing most of the cleaning and feeding, so all I wanted to know is what kind of creature she might like that won’t keep me up all goddamn night with its howls and clackety claws.”

  Sophie choked. “Something more along the lines of a Great Dane, perhaps?”

  Wallace relaxed. “Now you’re talking.”

  As much fun as it would have been to provide Wallace with a list of puppy options, there was a part of his speech that left her unsettled.

  “Um, when you say you’re going to move in together, do you mean…” She cast a careful look around Harrison’s room.

  “This old dump?” Wallace laughed, though there was a caginess to his gaze that made her feel he had more fondness for this house than he let on. Which, to be fair, seemed about on par for a Parks man. God forbid one of them admit to such a normal thing as emotional attachment to an old family home. “No. Too many bad memories. We want a fresh start.”

  Her next question wasn’t any easier. “Does Harrison know?”

  “No!” Wallace’s head jerked up with a start. “And you’re not to go telling him, understand? Nothing is finalized yet. Not but what he’ll be glad to see the back of me… We don’t get on. We never have.”

  On the contrary, Sophie had a suspicion that they were as tied to each other as two people possibly could be. Oh, they were grumpy and antagonistic, and both obviously liked to have things their own way, but they were all each other had. With the exception of Aunt Caroline and the occasional helping hand from Oscar, neither one had mentioned another friend or relative who’d stepped up to help a struggling single father raise his diabetic son.

  In fact, they’d been alone together for so long, she doubted they were aware just how weirdly codependent they’d become.

  No one knew that kind of relationship better than Sophie. When sacrifices were made—when one life was put on hold for the sake of another—it was impossible to just pack up and move on. No matter how much you might want to.

  “I think he has a right to know,” Sophie said gently. “It’s as much his life as yours.”

  Wallace pointed a gnarled finger at her. “If you say so much as a word to him, young lady…”

  “You’ll what?” Her voice took on a hint of the steel that had been appearing so much in Parks company lately. “Let me remind you that I don’t work for you, or even for your son. I work for Oscar.”

  Wallace’s internal struggle was visible on every line of his face. His lips twitched and twisted and finally turned flat. “Please,” he said. “I’m asking as a personal favor. I’ll tell him the moment my plans are finalized, I promise.”

  Had he turned surly or made more of those gruff demands, Sophie might have been able to stand her ground. That bleak look, however, and that plea in his voice…

  She sighed. “The moment they’re finalized,” she warned.

  “Word of a Parks,” he promised. Before she had time to wonder just what she’d gotten herself into, he added, “Well?”

  “Um. Well, what?”

  He released an exasperated sigh. “What kind of dog should I get for Minerva? Something friendly but not too friendly. Clean and low-maintenance. And none of that messy shedding everywhere, yeah?”

  She splayed her hands helplessly. Although she might be comfortable selecting service animals for clients with very specialized health and professional needs, she had no idea what to tell him. What she wanted to say—that he couldn’t move out without at least talking to his son first—was clearly off the table.

  “A cat,” she finally said.

  “Eh?”

  “What you’re describing isn’t a dog—it’s a cat. And not a kitten either. You want one of those gnarly old ones from the animal shelter that everyone else overlooks because it has one eye and mangy fur and hates children.”

  “I do?”

  “Yes. Those cats need good homes more than kittens, and they’re almost always well-trained. They practically take care of themselves.”

  She’d half expected Wallace to be up in arms at her suggestion, but he nodded and scratched his grizzled chin. “A cat. Yes, a cat. With one eye and a terrible personality. She’ll love that.”

  Sophie wasn’t sure whether that was a point for or against Minerva’s taste, but she merely echoed, “She’ll love that.”

  With a cackle and a wink, Wallace turned to leave. “Of course. After all, she chose me, didn’t she?”

  Chapter 17

  “What the hell did Sophie do to your father?”

  Harrison turned at the sound of Oscar’s voice. The older man strode across the wildfire training grounds. It was impossible—and ill-advised—to set fire to actual trees, so most of their training included mock scenarios played out over this huge expanse of land attached to the Department of Natural Resources offices.

  Oscar halted when he reached Harrison, who was holding a clipboard in one hand and a pen in the other. He also had Bubbles strapped to his chest, which was, of course, what Oscar zeroed in on first.

  “Never mind. The real question is, what the hell did Sophie do to you?”

  Harrison felt none of the irritation he expected from such of a question. Strange though it seemed, he was starting to feel more uncomfortable without the puppy than he did with her. He supposed that was the inevitable outcome of spending almost twenty-four hours a day with someone. You grew attached.

  He glanced over to where Sophie had seated herself on a folding chair near the edge of the field and smiled.

  You grew very attached.

  One week of this woman living under his roof and he’d come to depend on her in ways that were both alluring and terrifying. Yes, she’d dragged him to a dodgeball practice or two. And, yes, he’d sat through the infamous beer choir, which turned out to be a group of about twenty drunk millennials discussing craft brews and signing show tunes.

  The promised social whirlwind hadn’t been nearly as unpleasant as he’d feared, especially since it had the benefit of distracting him from Sophie’s constant proximity—a proximity she refused to consider anything but work related.

  While we’re together under this roof, she’d said, consider me officially on the clock. As was the case with Bubbles, he wasn’t allowed to pet her during training hours, had to treat her more like a coworker than a friend.

  Which, as it turned out, was a thing he was weirdly okay with. The agony of not having her naked and underneath him was offset by the simple joy he felt when she stood humming in the kitchen as she made coffee. Or how she littered the bathroom sink with lotions and potions he’d rather not examine too closely. Her presence in that house was so natural, so comfortable, it made his chest grow tight to think that he’d somehow lived for so many decades without her in it.r />
  Or that he might somehow have to do it again.

  “Go ahead,” he said to Oscar, forcing himself to focus on the man standing in front of him. Sophie might only be on loan to him, but Oscar was the sort of fixture that never left. “Light something on fire. Anything on fire.”

  Oscar made the motion of patting himself down and shrugged. “I seem to have forgotten my arson kit at home. Is she comfortable like that? She doesn’t look very comfortable.”

  “I’m serious. I’m sure you have a lighter or something. Here—ignite this stick.”

  Oscar eyed him warily but complied with the request, extracting a Zippo from one of his vest pockets. “Will this do? And aren’t we supposed to be training people to be more careful with their outdoor fires?”

  “Just do it.”

  It took a few tries for Oscar to get a flame going on the slightly damp stick Harrison had handed him, but if there was one thing his boss knew, it was how blazes worked. He brandished the smoldering flame like a torch, wafting it back and forth in front of the puppy. Bubbles twitched, but she didn’t seem overly distressed. In fact, her nose twitched in recognition of the familiar smoke scent—and then she dismissed it as something unworthy of her attention.

  “Well, shit.” Oscar waved the stick a little closer. “She barely seems to notice it.”

  Harrison nodded, his heart swelling with pride at everything Bubbles had overcome. He found it hard to believe he’d once thought he needed a big, ferocious dog to do the job. A big dog didn’t have to work to be strong. A big dog didn’t have to fight to earn respect. This tiny, scrappy thing had been required to put in five times the effort right from the get-go, and she’d done it even when she quaked in fear.

  She was a badass, this little one. And she was his.

  “It’s not a perfect system yet,” Harrison admitted. “And we won’t know how she reacts in the middle of a real forest fire until she’s in one, but I’m beginning to think we may have reached a compromise.”

  “Is that a hint for me to clear you for duty?” Oscar asked.

  Harrison laughed. “Well, it wasn’t, but if you want to take it that way…”

  He didn’t actually expect it to work. He’d spent enough time under Oscar’s leadership to know that nothing would move that man—he was like a rock that way. But there was a softening in Oscar’s expression, a small crack in his armor.

  Finally.

  Or so he thought. Oscar scratched his chin and cast a glance over Harrison’s shoulder, quelling his optimism with “I’m leaving that up to Sophie. As soon as she thinks you two are ready, I’ll schedule a date to bring the air force team in. That’ll be a good test for you both.”

  Harrison didn’t bother to stop his groan. If Oscar was an unmovable rock, then Sophie was a whole fucking mountain. Like Bubbles, her small stature and air of fragility were deceptive. He’d battle a dozen rabid Great Danes before he’d willingly tackle her.

  “Well, Sophie?” Oscar asked, all geniality. Harrison didn’t have to turn to know Sophie was walking up behind him. He could practically feel the air vibrating around her. “What’s the word on our boy here? Is he ready to get working again?”

  “I don’t know about the boy, but the puppy seems A-OK for duty.”

  “Wait—really?” He spun, unable to keep the joy from his face.

  She shrugged. “Sure. I told you the pair of you have natural chemistry, and you’ve both worked really hard these past few weeks. Starting Monday, I don’t see why you can’t step up the fire exposure. You just have to promise you’ll slow down and step away if she starts to show signs of distress. You can undo months of hard work that way.”

  As delighted as he was to hear that he wasn’t going to have to fight a dozen rabid Great Danes to get what he wanted, Harrison frowned. “I’m not a monster. Of course I’m not going to push her too hard if she’s upset.”

  Sophie laughed and held up her hands. “Don’t shoot. I forgot how much you love that little dog.”

  She was mocking him again. “I never said I loved her.”

  “You started knitting her a sweater, Harrison. If that’s not love, I don’t know what is.”

  “So far, all I’ve managed is half of a crooked scarf.”

  “You let her choose the color.”

  “Of course I did. I don’t know what looks good on a goddamned dog.”

  Sophie’s eyes twinkled. “He and Bubbles get the all-clear from me, Oscar. Let them loose to do their thing.”

  Harrison had been under the impression that he and Sophie had doing a pretty good job of keeping their relationship from showing, but Oscar watched their interaction with narrowing suspicion in his eyes. Sleeping with Sophie probably ranked up there with hurting Sophie in terms of Oscar’s ultimatum, so Harrison decided to change the subject.

  “What were you saying about my dad?” he asked.

  “Eh?”

  “Earlier, when you walked up, you asked me what Sophie had done to my dad.” Harrison paused. “If it’s about the candles, you’re asking the wrong guy. She’s turned him into some kind of essential oil convert. I have no idea how.”

  “It wasn’t difficult,” Sophie said primly. “You should never overlook the healing properties of aromatherapy.”

  Oscar chuckled, but he shook his head. “No, that’s not it. I asked him out for a drink last night, but he turned me down. He said he had plans. I can’t remember the last time he had plans.”

  “Maybe he had a date,” Sophie suggested.

  Harrison snorted, recalling her ridiculous Tinder suspicions from earlier, but Oscar turned to her with interest. “You think? I was wondering the same thing.”

  “Wait—what?” Harrison asked.

  “Um.” Sophie was careful not to meet Harrison’s eye. “It wouldn’t be too weird, would it? I mean, he’s not that old.”

  “Old, no. A miserable old bastard, yes.”

  “He has been looking awfully…sunny lately,” Oscar admitted. “And when I went to visit him at the bar a few weeks back—you know, Harrison, when you said he’d gone out early in the morning—he wasn’t there. Meg says she’s been seeing a lot less of him these days.”

  “Aw. Maybe he feels sunny,” Sophie suggested.

  Both Oscar and Harrison laughed at that.

  “Sorry, Sophie, but Wallace Parks hasn’t been anything but doom and gloom since VHS tapes stopped being a thing. Come to think of it, Harrison, neither have you.”

  There was Oscar’s look of suspicion again, all narrowed eyes and furrowed brow.

  “He’s not wrong,” Harrison said with a grunt designed to allay suspicion. “Digital streaming is just another way for the government to keep tabs on your movements.”

  “I don’t see what the big deal is either way. He’s a grown man. If he wants to date someone and be happy, I think he should do exactly that.” Sophie reached for Harrison’s shoulders in a move he misinterpreted as a gesture of affection. He stiffened, but she only reached for the buckle of his sling strap to unhook the dog.

  The effect of this exchange, however, seemed to work wonders on Oscar’s suspicions. Harrison and Sophie laughing together might put up all his red flags, but Harrison awkwardly shying away from any and all physical contact was right on par with what the man expected from him.

  He stood still and let Sophie finish extracting the dog, careful to look as unpleasant and annoyed as possible.

  “What are you doing with her?” he asked with a quick glance at his watch. “It’s nearing five o’clock—quitting time. Unless you wanted to run through those training exercises one more time, we should be done for the week.”

  “Oh, I know,” she said with her usual cheerful calm—that same cheerful calm that disregarded everything he said and did. “But I’d like her to explore the training grounds once or twice while not attached to you. You don’t mind, do you, Oscar?”

  He waved her off with a fond smile, thus confirming Harrison’s belief that Oscar too was incapable
of telling that woman no. Whether it made him feel better or worse, however, he wasn’t prepared to say. While it was nice to know he was no anomaly, it would have been nice to have at least one person out there who could be trusted not to fall under her spell.

  “Monday morning, Harrison,” Oscar said to him, all signs of that indulgent softness gone from sight. “Nine o’clock. Don’t make me regret this.”

  “No, sir.”

  Oscar looked as though he had more to say—or perhaps he was reluctant to leave Harrison and Sophie alone—but he eventually took off, heading through the field to where his Suburban was parked in the lot.

  Harrison waited until the car had pulled away before turning to Sophie. “Are we really going to walk Bubbles around out here, or was that a ruse to get rid of Oscar?”

  “Um. A ruse, obviously. The second Bubbles is off the clock, that means I am too.”

  “Why does that matter—” he began, but there was no need to finish. One look at Sophie supplied all the answer he needed. She licked her lips in what had to be deliberate leisure, making it impossible for him to look away from the soft, gently parted plumpness.

  He took a wide step back. “Oh no you don’t.”

  “What?” she asked. “I didn’t say a word.”

  “Oscar knows there’s something between us. He can tell.”

  “Can he? I wonder how.”

  “You know very well how. Ever since you started staying at the house, you’ve been exuding sex at me.”

  Those oh-so-plump lips parted in a laugh. “I’ve been exuding sex?”

  “At me,” he added, lest she forget the most important part of that accusation. Sex appeal in a woman who looked like her was no mystery, but the fact that it was unfurling his direction was. It was as though tendrils of ivy were wrapping around him, drawing him closer and closer until he had no chance of escape.