Sophie found the nursery behind the third door she checked. It was slightly ajar, which made her think she was on the right track—a feeling that intensified at the sound of a light snuffling. As was the case the last time she’d found Bubbles in this situation, she dropped to her stomach and scooted under the bed, lulling the puppy with a conversation that was mostly nonsense.

“There you are, my precious,” she said, wincing at the pitiful image of the Pomeranian curled in on herself in the corner. “You’re pretty fast for such a small thing—has anyone ever told you that? You knew there was danger the second you smelled smoke, and you reacted without even thinking about it. That’s what makes you such a good alert dog, you know. You see a thing that needs to be done, and you do it. No questions, no doubts. I envy that about you.”

“Uh, Soph?” Dawn’s voice came from behind her.

Sophie stuck a hand out from under the bed and waved her sister away. “That’s my sister you hear out there, Bubbles. If she knows what’s good for her, she’ll stand exactly where she is and be quiet, so you don’t get even more scared.”

Dawn took the hint. Sophie proceeded to spout more nonsense, mostly about knitting and dog sweaters and some people’s inability to follow the simplest of recipes without burning a church down. Bubbles relaxed a little, but she didn’t show a desire to leave her safe haven.

That didn’t happen until a gruff voice sounded overhead, causing them both to perk up.

“Goddammit, Sophie. What part of two whistles didn’t you understand?”

Strong hands clamped around her ankles and pulled her out from under the bed. She barely had time to register what was happening before Harrison let go.

He didn’t, as expected, drop to his knees next to her to grab Bubbles for himself. Instead, he planted his booted feet firmly on the ground and said, his low voice rumbling. “Be quiet, Bubbles. And get out from under there.”

“You can’t—” Sophie began, but the dog’s gentle whimpering stopped almost immediately.

“Out, Bubbles. I’ve had just about enough of your antics for one day.”

The soft skitter of nails over linoleum sounded from under the bed skirt. Seconds later, the puppy’s small, twitching nose peeked out into the open.

“Come,” he said. “Sit.”

Sophie watched from her perch on the floor as the commands she’d been working so hard to instill in both man and beast worked to perfection. Harrison might sound gruff and rough, but Bubbles knew that voice, took comfort in that voice.

She came. She sat. And she waited, looking expectantly at her owner as though he contained the answers to all the world’s problems.