Which was why it ended up taking him well over an hour to pull up the dirt drive that led to his house.

“All right, you minx,” he said as he slowed the truck. There was a light coating of dust over Bubbles’s fur, but it didn’t seem to bother her in the slightest. “We’re finally here.”

He didn’t know whether it was him speaking that spurred her to realize it, or if the stopping vehicle tipped her off, but she leaped off his lap. Whatever else had happened in her short life, she knew what was coming next.

Home.

Except home was hardly the word he would have chosen to describe the decaying heap of wood and concrete that greeted him as he swung open the truck door. Sure, the huge, rambling farmhouse had walls and a roof, and it was filled with childhood memories that no amount of time would be able to erase. But to Harrison, it had never been anything more than a place to rest his head. In fact, he’d have gladly consigned the whole thing to flames if it weren’t for the fact that he spent his life fighting against that very thing.

Some things are meant to burn.

“Well, Bubbles. This is it. Home sweet home.” He lifted the puppy and gently set her on the ground. It was still early enough that he didn’t fear the raccoon under the porch coming out to make friends, so he didn’t bother with a leash. Not that it would have mattered anyway. Bubbles took one look at the unfamiliar surroundings and latched herself onto his leg.

Or his foot, rather. She didn’t reach very high.

“You can’t stand there, or I’ll step on you. Is that what you want? To be crushed underfoot?”

The answer, apparently, was yes. As he moved to the truck bed and hoisted the box of doggie supplies, Bubbles remained stubbornly near his toes. It didn’t bode well for their future together. When Harrison was on the job, he barely had time to remember his own name, let alone worry about his service animal running under the stomping feet of several dozen firefighters.

And what would happen if she got caught in a tangle of fiery underbrush or stuck behind a felled tree? It wouldn’t take more than a twig to knock the poor creature down.

“I’ll bet Sophie didn’t even think about that,” he said, oddly triumphant. “She has no idea what it’s like to be out in the trenches.”

“Who the hell are you talking to?” an irascible voice called from the front porch. “Have you gone and lost your mind on top of everything else?”