“I’ll need to see how Bubbles reacts to different stimuli and in different environments,” she said. “Including places like the wildfire training grounds and the DNR office. We can work up to those though. It’s better to start in more low-key social environments—parks, libraries, bars. Wherever you go for fun.”

That last bit was directed at Harrison, who echoed her with a monotone, “For fun?”

“Sure. If you belong to any clubs, play any sports, that sort of thing, I can easily work them into the rotation. It’ll be good for Bubbles to get a feel for her routine.”

He continued staring at her, more fixated on her mouth than was good for him. He hadn’t played a team sport since a brief flirtation with basketball in high school, and he’d never belonged to a club of any sort unless you counted grocery store memberships. As for parks and libraries, she had to be kidding. He was a grown-ass man with a demeanor that scared children. Not exactly who they wanted showing up at story time without an actual kid in tow.

It took Oscar’s crack of laughter to snap him out of his daze. “You’re out of luck there, Sophie. I can’t remember the last time Harrison went anywhere he wasn’t required to. His idea of fun is to practice digging ditches in the backyard.”

“I can tell,” Sophie said. Her eyes moved up and down his body, lingering on his shoulders and torso with something akin to admiration. Then again, she could also be focusing on the fact that he looked like a man whose idea of fun was…well, digging ditches in the backyard.

“It’s no different than going to a gym,” he said in his defense. In fact, it was substantially better. No man-made machine could emulate the full-body experience of digging in the earth for eight hours straight.

“Except for the part where you have to interact with other people at a gym,” Oscar pointed out. “It’s a good thing this dog-training stuff takes so much time. I was starting to worry about how Harrison would fill the days without work, but I can see you have it covered. Speaking of, I think I’ll go hunt down Wallace at the bowling alley and say hello.”

Harrison had been wishing Oscar to the devil for the past half an hour, but at the hint of departure, a perverse urge to beg him to stay kicked in. Oscar couldn’t leave Harrison alone here with Sophie. It wasn’t right—not after that lengthy speech about doing her no harm. Couldn’t he see that it was only a matter of time before Harrison did something catastrophic?

He might storm. He might rage. He might pitch caution out the window and Sophie into his arms.