by Debbie Burns
It was a thing she’d learned from personal experience. During her long hospitalizations as a kid, she’d most looked forward to visits from her sisters. With the exception of their parents, they were the only people who didn’t tiptoe around her. They’d done what sisters do best: bickered and complained and generally made pests of themselves.
In moments of vulnerability, nothing was more comforting than bickering sisters. It was a proven fact.
“Rock sends his love by the way.” She used her forearms, army-crawl style, to pull herself even farther under the bed. Harrison was so large that he hadn’t been able to wedge his body very far under here, but she was small enough that she could scoot toward the back where Bubbles stood shivering in a corner. Sophie took one look at that panting, heaving little darling and kept talking. “Actually, I lied. He sends his hate. I’m not sure he’ll ever forgive you for going away. Oh, I know he always acted like he couldn’t stand you, all growly and mean whenever you wanted to play, but you’ve never seen anyone so forlorn now that you’re gone. What do you think he did once he realized you weren’t just out for a walk or getting some training?” She paused a second, as if waiting for Bubbles’s response. “He howled. Like, legit howled. He set off a chain reaction through the whole place.”
She thought she heard Harrison make a noise from somewhere behind her, but she ignored it. Already Bubbles was reacting to the calm friendliness of her voice, allowing herself to be coaxed out of the corner.
“He keeps peeking into your kennel when he thinks no one is watching. I bet he’s hoping you’ll show up underneath a blanket or behind the water dish. I didn’t have the heart to tell him you’ve got a big, important job now and won’t be coming back. It’ll break his poor puppy heart.”
Bubbles pulled forward enough for Sophie to get a hand out for her to sniff.
“Yes, I can see that makes you happy. You had poor Rock wrapped around your little paw, didn’t you? You left a trail of broken hearts back there, you know. Everyone is rooting for you to succeed. You just can’t see it the way we do.”
That last bit of encouragement did the trick, drawing the puppy out enough so Sophie could give her a reassuring pat. As soon as she made physical contact, the fight was over. With one swipe of her tiny pink tongue on Sophie’s finger, Bubbles lost the last of her fear. Sophie scooped the animal carefully in one hand and crawled out from under the bed.
“Ta-da!” she cried, holding the Pomeranian up like a trophy. “See what I mean? She’s not unmanageable. She needs a little extra encouragement, that’s all.”
Her feeling of triumph lasted all of six seconds. She glanced up at Harrison in hopes of being showered with his gratitude, but he was frowning down at the pair of them like a reluctant executioner whose hand was about to be forced.
Sophie didn’t go so far as to quake like Bubbles under the bed, but a definite frisson ran up her spine—not of fear, of course, but of the deep, terrible realization that she’d royally screwed the pooch.
Figuratively speaking, of course.
“This was a mistake.” Sophie spoke up before Harrison could say anything. She couldn’t bear to hear it from his own lips—that Bubbles wasn’t going to be good enough, that Sophie had failed before she even began.
It was going to be awful, crawling back like this, but what else could she do? They were right. All of them—Lila and Dawn and her parents and Oscar. She wasn’t equipped to work on a case like this one. She’d failed to properly communicate with the client. She’d been so dead set on Bubbles proving everyone wrong that she’d proven herself wrong in the process.
Poor, little, fluffy Sophie. You aren’t meant for the real jobs, but I’m sure someone would love to take you on as a pet.
“I honestly thought Bubbles would be a good fit for you, but I can see that I was wrong,” she said. Her lower lip was showing an alarming tendency to quiver, but she forced herself to hold it together. “You obviously have needs that she and I can’t meet. I’m sorry to have wasted your time.”
With a start, Harrison reached out and plucked the puppy out of Sophie’s grasp. She barely had time to notice what had happened before he curled his arms around the animal in a protective cocoon.
“What?” he demanded. “You’re taking her away?”
“I thought…” Sophie glanced around, bewildered. Her gaze skimmed over the worn wallpaper and gentle decay of the house before landing back on Harrison. It was such a strange combination, this faded farmhouse and the glorious man contained within it, but somehow it fit. “You were upset. You said she’s no good.”
“I said the situation isn’t good. And it’s not—I spent half my damn morning crawling around on my hands and knees trying to convince this puppy I’m not out to light her on fire.”
Sophie blinked. The harsh words and guttural way he uttered them should have sent her running. He was all those things Oscar had warned her about and more—gruff and rough and uncompromising. In fact, he was the last man on earth to whom she’d willingly hand over something as precious and vulnerable as a baby Pomeranian.
But he hadn’t shifted his position. If anything, he’d curled himself even more around the puppy, placing himself between the animal and Sophie.
He was protecting the dog. He was protecting the dog from her.
“It might not be possible for her to get over this kind of fear,” Sophie said, eyeing him as one might a baited bear. “I can do my best to work with her, obviously, but I can’t promise it will be a success.”
“Well, you can’t just take her away from me.”
“Um.”
He placed a protective hand on Bubbles’s head. “You practically forced me to bring her home in the first place.”
Sophie stood still for a moment, watching the pair of them. The idea of anyone believing her capable of causing harm to Bubbles was laughable. The idea of a man like Harrison thinking it was downright ludicrous. Yet that was exactly what he did think—and he was willing to put himself on the line to stop her.
What else might he be willing to do?
Curious, she placed her hands on her hips and put on her sternest expression. “I’m afraid it’s my call, Mr. Parks. Until the training certificate is placed in your hands, Bubbles remains under my care. If I feel she’s in a dangerous position or is incapable of performing her duties, I’m going to take her back to the kennel and reassign you a new puppy.”
“The devil you will.”
She almost laughed out loud at the expression that accompanied this oath. In all her life, she’d never seen a more physically imposing man. Harrison obviously hadn’t had time to shave that morning, his hard jaw scraped with stubble that gave him a menacing air. His expansive chest swelled with emotion, and his face took on a hard look that could have turned entire villages to stone. He also planted his legs in a subconscious gesture that she assumed was supposed to intimidate her.
And it would have too, if not for the fact that he was cradling a puppy in his arms with all the reverence one would show a newborn baby.
“Legally, she’s still the property of Puppy Promise,” Sophie said.
“I don’t care.”
“You will if I show up here with a court order and the full force of animal control at my back.”
He hesitated, casting an anxious glance down at Bubbles. Bubbles, supremely oblivious of the battle currently being waged over her, wagged her tail in response. “You can do that?”
She had no idea. In fact, she was pretty sure Harrison could demand that she leave his property or be charged with trespassing, but she wasn’t about to point that out—not when she was finally getting somewhere. She had no idea how or why it was, but Harrison was never quite as accessible as he was when she took a stand against him.
“Your work is too dangerous for her,” she said now, testing her theory. “I’m sorry, but that makes you an unfit par
ent.”
“Well, I think you’re an unfit dog trainer,” he retorted. “Getting a man all attached and then taking his puppy away.”
As was the case yesterday, Sophie felt an overwhelming urge to giggle. Harrison Parks was attached. Less than twenty-four hours in, and Bubbles had successfully wooed him—and if the look on his face was anything to go by, wooed him hard.
She took a step closer—not a threatening one, but one of invitation. “What if I promised you could have Rock instead? Big, fierce, oh-so-strong Rock?”
“I wouldn’t believe you. You’re a liar.”
Just as no one had ever yelled at her before, neither had anyone called her a liar. She took another step. She was near enough now that she could feel the power emanating off of him, the heat. She liked it more than was good for her.
“Well, you’re a bully,” she said. “Scaring a poor, defenseless woman like me. Making me quake in my shoes.”
“Bullshit.” Despite the severity of the word, there was no force to it. In fact, as Sophie looked up into Harrison’s face, she saw the lines lifting, his irresistible smile wiping away every harsh thing he’d ever said or done. “You’re not scared of me. You’re not even a little bit nervous.”
“That shows what you know. I might go hide under the bed.”
“Well, I won’t come get you.”
“I might make Bubbles hide there with me.”
“You’ll have to pry her out of my cold, dead arms first.”
“What in blazes is going on up here?”
By this time, Sophie and Harrison had come almost toe-to-toe, his bare feet separated from her tennis shoes by only a fraction of an inch. At the sound of his father’s voice, they both jumped back—Sophie, because she was genuinely startled; Harrison, because a flush of guilt replaced his smile.
“Does one of you want to explain why it sounds like there’s a presidential debate taking place on the goddamn landing?” his father demanded.
“Jesus, Dad.” Harrison’s guilty flush didn’t abate any. If anything, it grew more pronounced. “You could have just come up here and asked. There’s no need to yell.”
“Why the hell not? That’s what you were doing. Not at this poor scrap of a girl, I hope.”
Harrison glanced quickly at her, almost as if assessing whether or not she was about to fall into a maidenly swoon. Since she wasn’t—not even close—he took on an almost juvenile defiance. “She started it.”
His dad snorted. “I’ll bet she did. With a saint like you living under this roof, I’ve gotten used to nothing but peace and quiet around here.” He paused. “Why is your dog covered in dust?”
“We, uh, had a small argument over Bubbles’s training,” Harrison said. He shot Sophie a look that was equal parts anxiety and warning. “But it’s all worked out now. Isn’t that right, Sophie? No hard feelings?”
Sophie had a hard time holding back a laugh. Her feelings were anything but hard. These men obviously had no idea how refreshing she found it to be in the middle of an honest, no-holds-barred squabble. She’d spent most of her life behind reverential glass, cherished by her parents, adored by her puppies. Everyone was so afraid she’d collapse at the first sign of struggle that they did everything in their power to protect her.
Well, no one was protecting her right now, and she was doing just fine. In fact, she’d never felt less like collapsing in her entire life.
“Everything’s great,” Sophie said.
Harrison’s dad glanced back and forth between them. “Does this mean we’re keeping the damn dog?”
Harrison turned to Sophie for the answer. He was still holding Bubbles, one finger running up and down her spine while she lolled against him. “I know it’s not going to be easy to make this work. Her fear of fire, the hazards of my job, my own goddamn temperament…” All of the fight drained from him at once. “I get it—believe me, I get it.”
Sophie opened her mouth and closed it again. Of all the things she’d expected him to say, complete and utter capitulation wasn’t it.
But there was more of it coming. Harrison took a deep breath. “Whatever you decide, I respect your judgment, of course. But if it’s at all possible, I’d like to keep trying.”
Sophie was too surprised to do more than goggle at him. No one, not even her sisters, had ever told her they respected her…anything. She wasn’t the type of woman to inspire that kind of emotion in others. Pity and concern, sure. Love, of course. But never respect.
“Please,” he added. “I know it sounds silly considering everything that’s happened, but we’ve reached an understanding, Bubbles and I.”
As if realizing she was the topic of conversation, Bubbles gave a happy yap. Even though Sophie had doubts aplenty, and she was questioning her own judgment something fierce, Harrison’s confidence caused something to shift inside of her. It was a new sensation and a liberating one. She felt strong. She felt capable.
She felt happy.
“Where did she sleep last night?” Sophie asked.
Harrison’s dad laughed, but a glare from his son cut the sound short.
“There wasn’t anything in the instructions about it,” Harrison said, his tone defensive.
“I know.” Sophie had done that on purpose. Some families felt the need to crate their animals or put them in outdoor pens overnight. Which was totally fine when you were talking about a pet, but not at all ideal for a service dog. Bubbles needed to be able to alert Harrison at all hours of the day and night, which meant she had to be inside and as close as possible.
“It gets cold out here overnight,” he said. “And she’s so small.”
“Hence the fire,” Sophie said.
Harrison’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Hence the fire,” he agreed.
Harrison’s dad seemed unable to control his delight any longer. “That dog slept curled up on his chest like a goddamned baby. I took a picture, if you want to see it. I’m putting it on my Christmas card this year.”
The swift stiffening that took over his son’s body seemed not to affect Harrison’s dad in the slightest. “You’ve never sent a Christmas card in your life,” Harrison muttered.
“Well, it’s a good year to start, isn’t it? Now that I have a granddog and all.” His father winked at Sophie. “If you’ve got things in hand here, I’ll take myself off. Don’t let him scare you. I’ve got that picture tucked away to use as blackmail the second things get out of hand.”
“I won’t, Mr. Parks,” Sophie said warmly. She liked this man—he reminded her a lot of Oscar. Her own father was a mild-mannered history professor doted on by his wife and daughters. As much as she loved him, she found herself drawn to these gruff, unabashed men. They made her feel almost normal. “And thank you.”
Harrison waited until his dad disappeared down the stairs before turning his stiffness on her. “She wouldn’t sleep anywhere else,” he said, his tone between apology and accusation. “I made her a place on the floor, and gave her all my pillows and then wrapped her in a blanket, but none of it worked. She…”
“Yes?”
He turned a flushed scowl her way. “She looked so lonely, that’s all, shaking and shivering and looking at me with those sad raisin eyes. What kind of rig are you running at that kennel, anyway?”
Sophie nearly choked. “She looked at you with what?”
His stiffness became even more pronounced, but he didn’t back down from the challenge. “Her eyes.” He held the dog out as if for her inspection. “They’re like sad, wet raisins.”
“You mean grapes.”
“What?”
“Wet raisins—those are grapes. You literally just described the fruit that raisins are made from.”
He chuffed his annoyance with a swell of his powerful chest. “You’re missing the point. Look at her. Take a good look at her, and tell me what you see.”
Sophie wasn’t sure how he expected her to reply, but she took a moment to inspect the animal. To be fair, the puppy’s eyes were rather woebegone, but that was because Bubbles was exceptional at luring people in with her innocence and adorable fluff. Harrison was living proof of it—he’d had the dog for one day and was already becoming putty in her paws.
If only it were that easy for me. Innocence and fluff might work well in a puppy’s favor, but they weren’t the qualities a girl liked to advertise when attracting a partner, especially not one as intense and virile as this one.
Not that she wanted to attract Harrison, of course.
“They look more like obsidian, if you ask me. Like she was forged in a volcano.” She smiled down at the puppy and then up at Harrison. “You did the right thing, by the way. It’s better that she sleeps close to you. She needs to be able to smell your breath to distinguish your blood sugar levels while you sleep, and your chest is an ideal place to do that.”
He blinked. “It is?”
“Absolutely. And you knew it, didn’t you, Bubbles? That’s why you were upset when he tried to make you sleep so far away. You weren’t being given a chance to prove yourself.”
“Then why the hell didn’t you tell me all this yesterday?” Harrison ran a hand through his dark-brown locks, casting them into even further disarray. “A warning would have been nice. You could have saved me a lot of time and trouble. Not to mention sleep.”
He words were harsh again, but Sophie was no longer fooled. My bark is a lot worse than my bite, he’d said yesterday, and she was beginning to realize he hadn’t been exaggerating. His bark was loud and fierce, but if there was one thing in this world she knew, it was dogs.
Dogs barked because they were nervous, because they were issuing a warning, because their instinctive urge to protect themselves—and others—was strong. They barked because they felt threatened.