“No, no. Not the sexy kind of crazy. The other kind. The annoyed kind.”

“Why did you look at me when you said that?” Lila demanded. Unlike Dawn, she would never presume to eat from someone else’s plate. Her own dishes were arrayed in front of her in a perfectly square pattern—fruit, vegetable, protein, carbs. “I don’t annoy men. Men love me.”

Dawn snorted.

“It’s true!” Lila protested. “I don’t always love them back, that’s all. I have high standards.”

Neither one of them could argue with that. Nor, Sophie reflected, would they want to. Lila deserved her high standards. Not only was she the best-looking of the sisters, her thirty years worn like a diamond tiara, but she was the smartest too. She had a master’s degree in animal behavior—a valuable tool for training dogs…and, Sophie hoped, for training men.

“This is serious, you guys,” Sophie said. “Harrison and Bubbles and I had a very productive day. I know how I’m going to make a success of them.”

“And the answer isn’t hard work and the tried-and-true practices of dog training we’ve been instilling in you for years?” Lila asked.

“Well, yes, obviously.” Sophie squirmed, not quite able to meet her sister’s eyes. If she had any idea just how far from the tried-and-true practices Sophie planned on going, she’d yank this entire project out from under her. A puppy-mill puppy was bad enough. A puppy-mill puppy who was afraid of fire and a firefighter who was afraid of his puppy-mill puppy was another thing altogether. Her head whirled to think of it.

“Of course I’ll follow all the regular training techniques,” Sophie said primly. “But it’s going to take a little more than that. You have to admit this case is special, Lila. Not only is Bubbles unlike our usual puppies, but Harrison is unlike our usual clients. Most of the time, they’re the ones coming to us, eager to adopt a dog and willing to do whatever it takes to train it. Harrison is only doing this because he has to.”

The waitress came by to whisk Sophie’s now-empty dessert plate away and replace it with the leafy salad—her usual. The Vasquez sisters had talent to spare when it came to academics and training dogs, but none of them were any good at cooking. If it weren’t for the Maple Street Grill across the street from their house, they’d probably all starve.

“So, your grand plan is to annoy him?” Lila asked.

“Yes.”

“Every day?”

“If I have to.”

“For six weeks?”