Chapters (33)
- Front Cover
- Title Page
- Copyright
- Contents
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Epilogue
- Excerpt from Puppy Love
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- About the Author
- Back Cover
She nodded and took another sip of the bourbon. It burned just as much as the first time, but it gave her the courage she needed to keep going. “I think he was afraid that he’d, um, squish Bubbles. That was the impression I got anyway. He wanted the biggest, baddest dog we had, and when I told him that wasn’t an option, he sort of got this panicked look in his eye.”
“You saw all that?”
Sophie shrugged. It sounded ridiculous, she knew, but how else could she explain it? “From the way he reacted, it was like I’d asked him to carry around a cracked egg for the rest of his life.”
“No, he wouldn’t like that.” Oscar chuckled. “He wouldn’t like that at all.”
“That was where the baby talk came in. Just some cute names I have for Bubbles, you know? I was trying to get him to say a few of them, which was when he started yelling. It wasn’t real yelling, but Lila walked in right in the middle of it and couldn’t tell the difference. Do you know no one has ever yelled at me before?”
Oscar tugged one end of his mustache. “Is that so?”
“Not once. Not even a little.” She sighed, remembering. “It was nice.”
“Nice?”
“I think you should yell at me for screwing everything up. It might help. Go ahead. I don’t mind.”
Oscar only shook his head, which just went to show how right she was. In the entirety of her childhood and adult memories, she couldn’t even remember anyone sitting her down and giving her a stern talking-to.
“Anyway, that’s why I’d like to try again,” she said. “If you can convince him to work with me, that is. I’m, um, not sure he’ll want to.”
For the first time since she’d walked into this office, Oscar allowed a frown to appear. “Oh, he’ll work with you, all right. I don’t care what tactics you have to resort to—baby talk, speaking in tongues, making him carry a dozen cracked eggs. After what happened last week…”
Sophie didn’t say anything, content to let Oscar lapse into thought for as long as he needed. From the report she’d read, it sounded as though Harrison Parks was lucky to be alive. He’d slipped into a diabetic coma after his continuous glucose monitor malfunctioned during a routine wildfire training exercise. Had he been out on a call somewhere remote or inaccessible by road—both common during the height of the wildfire season—they may not have been able to get him to a hospital in time.