“Well, I think you’re an unfit dog trainer,” he retorted. “Getting a man all attached and then taking his puppy away.”

As was the case yesterday, Sophie felt an overwhelming urge to giggle. Harrison Parks was attached. Less than twenty-four hours in, and Bubbles had successfully wooed him—and if the look on his face was anything to go by, wooed him hard.

She took a step closer—not a threatening one, but one of invitation. “What if I promised you could have Rock instead? Big, fierce, oh-so-strong Rock?”

“I wouldn’t believe you. You’re a liar.”

Just as no one had ever yelled at her before, neither had anyone called her a liar. She took another step. She was near enough now that she could feel the power emanating off of him, the heat. She liked it more than was good for her.

“Well, you’re a bully,” she said. “Scaring a poor, defenseless woman like me. Making me quake in my shoes.”

“Bullshit.” Despite the severity of the word, there was no force to it. In fact, as Sophie looked up into Harrison’s face, she saw the lines lifting, his irresistible smile wiping away every harsh thing he’d ever said or done. “You’re not scared of me. You’re not even a little bit nervous.”

“That shows what you know. I might go hide under the bed.”

“Well, I won’t come get you.”

“I might make Bubbles hide there with me.”

“You’ll have to pry her out of my cold, dead arms first.”

“What in blazes is going on up here?”

By this time, Sophie and Harrison had come almost toe-to-toe, his bare feet separated from her tennis shoes by only a fraction of an inch. At the sound of his father’s voice, they both jumped back—Sophie, because she was genuinely startled; Harrison, because a flush of guilt replaced his smile.

“Does one of you want to explain why it sounds like there’s a presidential debate taking place on the goddamn landing?” his father demanded.

“Jesus, Dad.” Harrison’s guilty flush didn’t abate any. If anything, it grew more pronounced. “You could have just come up here and asked. There’s no need to yell.”

“Why the hell not? That’s what you were doing. Not at this poor scrap of a girl, I hope.”

Harrison glanced quickly at her, almost as if assessing whether or not she was about to fall into a maidenly swoon. Since she wasn’t—not even close—he took on an almost juvenile defiance. “She started it.”

His dad snorted. “I’ll bet she did. With a saint like you living under this roof, I’ve gotten used to nothing but peace and quiet around here.” He paused. “Why is your dog covered in dust?”