Huh. It seemed to be working. Not once did Bubbles protest or give any indication that she was uncomfortable. In fact, she seemed to be loving it. All it took was one glance at her head, held high as she took in the sights from her exalted perch, and Harrison knew. He could strap that damn dog to the top of the Empire State Building, and she’d eat it up.

Since he knew Sophie would be able to tell if he slowed his pace for her benefit, he finished strapping on his pack and headed toward the trailhead with his usual long stride. He also asked the question that had lingered on the tip of his tongue for the past ten minutes.

“What discomforts?”

“Huh?” Sophie’s voice came from right behind him, her presence so palpable the air between them seemed to crackle with electricity. “What are you talking about?”

“You said you’ve suffered worse discomforts in your life than peeing in the woods.” He did his best to ignore that thing, that sensation that pulsed in all the places their bodies didn’t touch. From the way his voice almost broke at the end, however, he wasn’t sure he managed it. “I’m wondering what those could possibly be. I mean, I’ve met your sisters. I doubt they duct-taped you to walls and made you eat bugs when you were a kid.”

“Ew. Of course they didn’t. Who eats bugs on purpose?”

He had to laugh. “You will, by the time this weekend is over. I should have warned you that we hold an annual cooking contest for our first meal—but the trick is, you can only use food that you find or catch. Most of us try for fish or small game, but it usually dwindles down to twigs and bugs by the time the deadline’s near.”

“Really?” Once again, Sophie defied all reason and logic by squealing in excitement. He even caught a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye that he could have sworn was a victory leap. “That sounds so cool. Does anyone oversee the process to determine what’s safe to eat?”

“Nope. The risk is half the fun.”

“Camping is weird,” she said happily.

“So are my friends.” Harrison hesitated, unsure whether he should forge ahead. The logical part of his brain issued a warning to back off, to avoid the personal disclosures that would inevitably bring them closer together.

But he couldn’t help it. His urge to get to know this woman, to talk about her feelings, was even stronger than the urge explore every inch of her body.

“So if it wasn’t torture at the hands of your siblings, what was it?” he asked. “Corporate icebreakers? Blow-up furniture? A clown living in your sewer?”

“Um.”