“You’re right. I should go first.” She tapped one smooth finger in the center of her chin. “Let’s see…you’re a softhearted baby.”

“Excuse me?”

His protest did nothing to deter her. “A marshmallow, really. Soft and squishy and so in love with this little puppy I doubt you’ll ever be able to look at a Great Dane again.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m uncommunicative and stubborn, remember? A difficult bastard. Lots of bark and plenty of bite.”

She ignored him, the smile on her lips so serene he might as well have been speaking in a foreign language. “You even like wearing Bubbles in that pouch, though you won’t admit it. You like having her close, knowing she’s safe.” The smile spread. “You’re a protector—that’s what you are. You’d give your life for this little dog. You’d give your life for anyone who needed it.”

The beep that sounded indicated that his blood sugar was, in fact, low. It was a moment of triumph—for Bubbles and for Sophie and for him—but he needed to focus his attention on regulating his equipment. He also reached for his glucose tablets and popped three of them under his tongue, pausing to commend Bubbles for a job well done and settle her on her favorite blanket in the corner of the tent.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he countered. “You’ve known me for all of four weeks. That doesn’t make you an expert on all things Harrison.”

“The problem, of course, is that you can’t turn it off.” Sophie was still rattling off his apparent flaws in that same cheerful matter, but the smile had dropped from her face.

The moment of seriousness didn’t make her any less attractive. If anything, it only made her more attractive. Fun, cheerful, friendly Sophie was easy to fall for and hopefully just as easy to leave behind. Serious, earnest Sophie was a different matter entirely. Once she got under your skin, she was likely to remain there permanently.

“That’s why you’re so closed up, why you hide behind such thick walls.” Her voice softened. “Why you have such a difficult time letting people past them.”

Something in his chest gave a painful, lurching clench.

“It’s hard, isn’t it?” she asked. “To care so much, to protect everyone from everything that’s terrible in the world? It’s easier to keep them as far away from your heart as possible.”

“No,” he whispered.

“Yes,” she replied, her gaze so full of sadness and understanding that he wasn’t sure he could take another second of it. “It doesn’t hurt so much then, does it?”