Sophie approached the wooded copse Harrison was searching with a bottle of water in her hand and a look of determination on her face. “You’re not going to do anyone any good if you faint out here. It’ll take at least twelve of the men to drag you back to the house.”

Even though it was the last thing he felt like, he huffed out a laugh. It seemed like the least he could do. They were nearing the eight-hour mark for their search. Even though everyone else’s optimism had flagged, she remained determinedly positive, all smiles and encouragement and rah-rah promises.

“Thank you.” He accepted the water and took a few deep gulps. “But I’d like to stay out here as long as possible.”

“I’m sure you do, but my sisters want to talk to you, so you might as well take fifteen. Apparently, Lila has a theory she’d like to share with you.”

“She has a theory?” He blinked. “Like…of relativity?”

“Something like that.” Sophie’s smile faltered. Clasping her hands in front of her, she became unnaturally focused on a hangnail on her thumb. “Lila’s supersmart when it comes to animal behavior, so she’s worth listening to. I told her what you said yesterday, about how Bubbles misses me, and she thinks you could be right. She says the puppy might be out looking for me.”

He twisted his head to get a better look at Sophie. She was exhausted, obviously, with bags under her eyes and her hair an odd mixture of puffed-out spikes and sweat-dampened curls. She’d also shed her heavy sweatshirt for a faded AC/DC T-shirt of his that was tied in a knot at the waist.

To make matters worse, she was limping from a fall into a gopher hole. Of the two of them, she was the one who most needed a break.

Not that she’d take one. He’d never seen anyone so good at field morale, pushing when it was needed, pampering when it wasn’t, indefatigable from start to finish. They could use a woman like her at the fire sites.

He could use a woman like her in his life.

“She thinks Bubbles went in search of you?” he asked.

“I mean, it’s possible.” She examined the hangnail with renewed interest. “Lila’s in the kitchen making a few calls to animal control. She asked me to come get you so she can ask you a few questions.”

The mention of animal control got him moving. In his experience, that was who you called to scrape up the roadkill from the side of the highway in winter, the people who put dangerous animals down and fought cougars that wandered a little too close to town. Not exactly the people he wanted to talk to about his lost puppy.