Page 21 of Puppy Love

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, Igetit.”

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 felthappy.

“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.”