Page 36 of Puppy Love

At least, it was impossible forherto throw it aside. She wasn’t putting anything past this grump.

“I don’t know,” she countered. “Why do you still live with your dad?”

He laughed—actually laughed, the raspy sound doing strange things to her already-rapid heart rate. “Fair enough.”

“Is that what you’re going to say instead of giving me an answer?”

For the longest time, she was afraid he was going to stop there. His steady breathing and the slap of their feet on the trail beneath them were the only sounds that reached her ears. But he eventually spoke, his voice surprisingly even.

“I can’t move out,” he said. “It wouldn’t be fair to leave him all alone in that house.”

And that was all there was to it. No explanation of why his dad was so attached to the farmhouse, no soul-bearing confession of the family ties that bound the two of them. Harrison couldn’t leave his father alone in that house, so he wouldn’t.

Sophie didn’t need to know more—she’d seen the rest for herself. In the few short days she’d known Harrison Parks, she’d had plenty of time to take his measure. He was the kind of man who would protect a puppy he’d known for twelve hours because the animal had been given over to his care, and that was that. The kind who would fight forest fires with everything he had, even if it meant he was putting his own health at risk every time he did it, because the job needed to be done. The kind who would stay with his dad even when it was clear he’d rather be anywhere else.

In other words, he was a good man. Areallygood man.

And the best part—or the worst part, depending on perspective—was that he had no idea.

“If you could leave, where would you go?” Sophie asked.

“I don’t know,” he said with something like a shrug. “I’ve never really thought about it. What about you?”

“France. Spain. Egypt. Peru. Thailand. New Zealand. Mongolia.”

“So just a few places, then.”

“I’d like to go everywhere. Or nowhere. I don’t think the destination matters so much as getting there on my own terms.”

They’d almost completed the first mile by now and were approaching a barnlike structure near the back of the field. She cast a sideways glance at Harrison to see how he was holding up. His face was hard and his expression flat, but not because of weariness. Oh, no. Never that. It’d take a lot more than a single mile to wear him out.

Unless she was very much mistaken, it was also going to take a lot more than a single conversation to demolish today’s walls.

She ran through a mental checklist of Lila’s suggestions, casting each one aside as it popped up. Religion and politics were way too serious on a gorgeous morning like this one, and she could hardly critique Harrison’s running style—the man’s form was impeccable and, frankly, a sight to behold.

Which left only Dawn and her shoulders.

From a purely technical standpoint, Sophie knew how flirtation worked. It wasn’t that difficult. A laugh and a smile, the brush of her hand on his—most men were primed to read the signs and react accordingly.

Not so with Harrison. He might have agreed to let her play with this thing between them, to lean on their mutual attraction as a way to break through his barriers, butsayingit anddoingit were two very different things. Especially since it appeared that she was going to have to do most of the heavy lifting.

Show off a body part like a sex goddess—just a flash, nothing more—and then start using it the way God and nature intended, Dawn had said at the diner.Men hate it when you go all functional on them.

It had sounded like strange advice at the time, but Dawn was something of an expert on the subject. Her sister was also a strong advocate of striking while the iron was hot.

The iron might not be feeling the burn, but Sophie certainly was.

The barn’s entrance was approaching, so Sophie slowed her steps. Feigning a hitch in her side, she bent at the waist. “Oh, dear,” she said. “I don’t think I stretched very well. My muscles are starting to feel really tight.”

Harrison immediately slowed his pace to match hers. “Do you want to head back? There’s a footpath right over there—”

“No, no. You need to keep moving. You don’t want to lose your progress. I’ll just go through a quick series of stretches and catch up.”

He didn’t, as she’d halfway feared, take advantage of his freedom to take off in a mad dash away from her. He started jogging in place instead, following her orders to keep moving to a nicety.

“Where does it hurt?” he asked.

“Um. My hamstring?”