As something from one of the pots sizzled and jumped into the campfire, sending crackling flames in all directions, Harrison assumed it was the sudden flare that scared her, so he murmured something low and soothing.

In a louder voice, he asked, “How much longer until we have to eat this monstrosity?”

Jessica dipped a ladle in the pot and tasted its contents, barely managing to hide her grimace in time. “Twenty minutes should do it. I’ll just, ah, add some more salt.”

“Don’t worry. I have beef jerky and granola bars in my pack.” The woman seated next to Jessica, the wife of firefighter named Burke, patted the backpack at her side.

“And we caught enough fish for a feast,” promised another man, Burke’s younger brother and an aspiring firefighter. “We’ve got this competition in the bag. Or, er, the net, I guess I should say.”

“You caught one—one fish, and he looked diseased. His fin was practically falling off.”

“That just means the filet will be tender.”

Under normal circumstances, Harrison would have been more than happy to join in the smack talk, comparing culinary disasters and planning a pizza run for later. It had been a long, wearying day with an even longer night beckoning. Jessica had offered to share her tent with Sophie—and had been accepted—but moving a sleeping bag was no difficult task. If Sophie kept peeking at him through those long lashes, there was a good chance neither one of them would be doing any sleeping of any kind.

So much for preparing myself for the inevitable. Sophie might have one foot out the door, but her other foot was well within his reach.

The fire crackled again, causing Bubbles to whimper louder. Her legs wriggled against his chest, her head moving frantically as she struggled to free herself from her binding.

“It’s just a fire,” he said, keeping his voice low and calm. When he’d had the small fire in the grate that morning, the sound of him talking—however inane the words—had seemed to soothe her. “A chemical reaction between the oxygen in the air and the wood in the pit. Chemistry can explain a lot of things that seem scary at first.”

Attraction, for example. Lust. Desire.

It didn’t work. Instead of having a pacifying effect on the dog this time, his voice only served to increase her anxiety. He rose to his feet in a swift movement, determined to put distance between the dog and the fire.

And between him and Sophie, but that was an effort in futility. No matter where he went, she followed.

Literally. He’d made it no farther than a few hundred feet away from the campfire before he realized Sophie was standing at his back.