He didn’t meet her eye. “She’s all right.”

“With that adorable little face…”

“I still think she looks like a rat.”

“And those tiny clacking paws…”

“Keeps me up all night.”

“And the way Harrison has fallen completely and totally in love with her…”

Wallace blinked, and just like that, he relaxed. He didn’t go so far as to sit in the leather club chair in the corner, but his shoulders came down and some of the heavy lines of his face sagged. “She’s been good for him, hasn’t she?”

“I think so, yes.”

“You both have.” Wallace spoke with the certainty of a man who was accustomed to having his word accepted as law—a fact borne out when he didn’t give Sophie time to do more than blush and struggle to come up with an appropriate reply. “You’re good at people, right? At women people?”

Her embarrassment quickly gave way to laughter, but she was careful to suppress it. As delightful as it was to laugh at Harrison, she doubted that approach would prove as effective with his father.

“I’m pretty good at women people, yes. My whole family is.” Almost as an apology, she added, “In addition to one very opinionated mother, I have two very opinionated sisters. My poor dad has been dominated by femininity for as long as I can remember.”

Wallace nodded as though this made perfect sense. He didn’t, however, speak.

“Um. Is there a woman in your life?” she prodded. “One you’re…seeing?”

He cast her a sharp-eyed glance. “What do you know about it?”

To tell him that she and Harrison had witnessed him gallivanting through Spokane dressed to impress would only fluster the poor man, so she said the only other thing that made sense—the truth.

“You seem happy.”

His face folded in a smile, the deep lines around his eyes crinkling in the process. “I am happy.” The smile disappeared as easily as it had come. “I should say I could be happy. I’m not so sure I deserve it.”

Her heartstrings gave a strong tug. “What’s her name?”

“Minerva.”

“Oh, that’s a lovely name.” Sophie patted the mattress next to her. “Where did you meet? Online? A dating app?”

He didn’t take her invitation—or her bait. “How we met isn’t important. And I don’t need your advice on any of that other stuff…the love stuff. The thing is, I want to buy her something big, something nice. But not jewelry.”

“No, that’s much too cliché,” she agreed gravely.

“And not flowers.”

“They never last.”

He shifted from one foot to the other. “I was thinking a puppy might make a nice present, but I don’t know what kind to get. You know women and puppies. What do you think?”