Page 31 of Puppy Love

A gurgle of laughter escaped her lips. She slapped a hand over her mouth, but it was too late. The damage was already done. “I meant that it was amazing. Earth-shattering. You totally rocked my world, Harrison Parks.”

He didn’t want to laugh. There was nothing funny about a man being rejected in his own kitchen by a woman who should, by all rights, never have been there in the first place.

But laugh he did, and there was no denying how good it felt. It shook his frame and his resolve, made him wish he could take her in his arms again andreallyrock her world this time.

“Point taken,” he said. “Next time, I’ll smile the first time you tell me to. That way we can avoid another situation like this one.”

“No, don’t.” Her hand dashed out and grabbed his sleeve. “I liked the kiss, Harrison. I, um. Well. It’s just…I also like you.”

His smile wasn’t optional this time. It broke out without his permission, refusing to be held back—refusing to let him holdhimselfback. “Me too, Sophie. I don’t say that about many people, but you bring out something good in me. Something I haven’t felt in a very long time.”

She hadn’t let go of his sleeve yet, her clutch on the flannel twisting at his words. “So it’s okay?” she asked, peering anxiously up at him. “Pushing this way? Playing a little?”

He remembered what she’d said during the introduction with Bubbles, about how even working dogs needed downtime, that everyone needed to play and be loved, and nodded.

He wished he could think of something else to say—put into words the mass of emotions she was churning up inside of him—but his tongue felt too big for his mouth, his heart too big for his chest. Whether she recognized this and knew that there was only one thing in the world that could save him, or because she was much better at this than him, she let go of his sleeve and nodded.

“Well, that’s good news. Are we ready to get to work now?”

He latched on like a man grasping at his final meal. “Work.” His voice was guttural, terse. “Yes. Work.”

“Good, because we’ve got lots of ground to cover if we’re going to stay on schedule. Knitting circle starts up next Thursday, and you don’t want to miss any meetings. Those ladies donottake well to truancy.”

“Wait—that’s an actual thing? That we’re doing? Together?”

“Absolutely. It’s all part of the training.” She cocked a playful eyebrow at him. “Unless you have something to say about it?”

He stared at Sophie, hoping to find some loophole, but it was futile.

“Fine,” he said, heaving a sigh. He knew when he’d been beat, and he’d been beat the moment this pair walked into his life. “But make a note that I’m only doing it under duress.”

She chuffed a soft laugh. “Don’t worry. I’m beginning to realize you won’t do things any other way.”

* * *

“Geez, Dad. Have you been here the whole damn day?”

Harrison dropped to the barstool next to his father, his shoulders heavy with exhaustion. He wasn’t the only man to do so; a dark bowling alley bar might seem a strange watering hole to some, but in their town of four thousand, it was the best place to be after a long day of work.

Well, technically it was theonlyplace to be, but Harrison wasn’t about to quibble over the details. Especially since he, unlike every other blue-collar worker unwinding after a long day, lifted a Pomeranian puppy out from under the flap of his jacket and perched her on his lap.

“Really, Harrison?” his dad asked, shielding his pint glass as if fearing puppy contaminants. “You brought her with you? To a bar?”

“That’s how it works,” he said. He turned his attention to the bartender, an energetic, outspoken woman who could pass for fifteen or fifty, depending on the lighting. The dingy bar fluorescents softened her to somewhere in the thirties. “And before you say anything, Meg, Bubbles is a service animal, so you can’t kick us out. See what her vest says? I need her to save my life.”

“Save your life?” she echoed. “From what? A squirrel attack?”

Next to him, his dad guffawed. “Fat chance of that. My money’s on the squirrel.”

Harrison placed his hand on the puppy’s back and glared at his father. Bubbles ruined the gesture’s efficacy by turning her head into his caress and licking his thumb. He maintained his pose anyway. At leastoneof them was going to have a little dignity.

“She’s very sensitive about her size,” he said. “She’s also tired after a long day. What do you have that might perk her up a little?”

Meg leaned on the counter and stared at the puppy. Her eyes, heavily lined in black, moved up and down between Bubbles and Harrison, as if she was waiting for the catch.

She could wait forever as far as Harrison was concerned. Heknewit was ridiculous to saunter around a town like Deer Park with a designer dog wearing a red training vest layered over a sock. He’d grown up here, gone to school here, worked here. Almost everyone knew him as the hard-ass at the Department of Natural Resources who lived like a hermit on the outskirts of town and liked it. The last thing he needed was for any of them to point out that he was more likely to tattoo daisies on his eyelids and take up, well, knitting as a hobby.

“Maybe she’d like some whiskey?” Meg eventually suggested.