She gave up altogether when he handed the puppy to Derek as one handing over the Holy Grail.

“It’s like taking a kid to daycare,” he said, careful not to meet Sophie’s eye. “She’ll cry for the first few minutes, but it’s all for show. I know it looks and sounds like it, but her heart won’t actually break in two.”

“How’s she doing so far?” she asked as soon as her giggles subsided and Derek disappeared from view, Bubbles tucked firmly under one arm. Although she knew there had to be a dozen or so men and women wandering around, they appeared to be alone. “I heard you give the order not to light any fires until dusk.”

“I’m not taking any chances,” he said in a voice of grim determination.

“That was smart. We can make sure you two are good and snuggled before it gets going.”

Harrison showed a marked tendency to twitch at the prospect of being good and snuggled, so she quickly changed the subject.

“You brought your own rod and tackle, I see,” she said.

“What?”

She nodded down at his hand. “Your rod and tackle—for fishing. Not, according to Jessica, a euphemism for something fun.”

Suddenly, she could understand how Derek could have interpreted a brief Harrison expression as an order to turn tail and run as fast as his legs would take him. That cloudy look signaled an incoming storm of the cataclysmic variety.

Fortunately for her, she didn’t mind getting a little wet. Or, you know, a lot wet.

“You don’t have to look at me like that,” she said. “I said it wasn’t a euphemism for something fun, if you know what I mean.”

“I know damn well what you mean,” he said. “Just promise me you will never refer to a man’s junk as his rod and tackle again.”

She laughed, more pleased than she could say that he was still willing to fight her. Telling him about her history with Oscar had carried a risk; there was a good chance that he, like everyone else in her life, would start treating her like she was breakable, delicate.

But he hadn’t. Even with all of Harrison’s flaws, the one thing he’d never done was handle her delicately. He’d never treated her as anything other than a hot-blooded woman capable of standing up for herself.

Which, for the first time in her life, was exactly what she felt like.

“His frank and beans then,” she suggested.

His lips began their telltale twitch. “No.”

“Pillar and stones?”

“You stole that from George R. R. Martin.”

“Prince Harry and the twins?”

“Stop it.”

“I’m running out of options. How about the lieutenant and his rearguard?”

The smile on his face was now unmistakable. “That’s not even a real one.”

“Fine.” She heaved a fake sigh. “Lay it on me. What do you call them?”