Page 57 of Puppy Love

He thought that would be the end of it, and they’d keep marching along the trail to the tune of their playful banter, but Sophie’s feet crunched to a halt. He stopped, more out of instinct than anything else, and looked back at her.

His breath caught. She looked so much like she had the day they met, when he’d come to the kennel to find a wary, worried young woman who’d been told, in no uncertain terms, that she was about to face a monster.

He’d thought she’d seen past that—realized Harrison was coming to cherish her happiness more than his own—but now he wasn’t so sure.

“What is it?” he asked, his throat tight with suppressed frustration.It’s happening again. It’s happening with her. “What did I say? Sophie, please—you know I’m not good with words.”

She didn’t flinch at the emotion in his voice. Instead, she tilted her head and examined him in her usual inquisitive manner. “Didn’t you ever wonder how I know Oscar?” she asked. “Or why I agreed to help him out with your case?”

The question took him by surprise—mostly because hedidn’tknow, and it had never occurred to him to ask. He’d been so wrapped up in his own affairs that he hadn’t wondered what Oscar had done to coerce this kindhearted woman into doing his bidding.

“No, but I’m wondering now. Was your…? Did you…?” He paused and forced a deep breath. Before Oscar worked the desk at the Department of Natural Resources, he’d been a more-than-adequate firefighter of his own. He always joked that he planned to stay behind that desk until Harrison finally decided he was too old to dig ditches and take his place. The number of lives he’d saved in the line of duty probably numbered in the thousands. “Did he save you from a fire?”

“Not a fire, no.” Sophie’s voice became remote, a part of her drawn inward. “But he did save me.”

Harrison waited, aware that she was struggling with something he couldn’t fathom. The location was perfect for it, the winding dirt path silent save for the rustling of the breeze through the trees and the occasional call of a friendly bird. Sophie was perfect too, her features taking on a firm resolve that transformed her from a pretty woman to a beautiful one.

Nothing was more heart-stoppingly stunning than Sophie Vasquez in a state of determination. It was what made her so good at breaking him down. When that determination zeroed in on him, he didn’t stand a chance.

“He donated his bone marrow to me,” she eventually said, for once without her usual smile. “I, um…well…I had leukemia for a really long time. For most of my adolescence, in fact.”

“Wait.You’rethe miracle girl?”

She winced.

“I’m sorry—that’s what he used to call her. The girl. You, I mean. That must have been…” He covered his flustered response by doing some rapid calculations in his head. He’d been working with Oscar a few years by that time, no longer a volunteer or summer contract worker, but part of the year-round team. He’d been a bit of a cocky shit too, but most of the people who joined the crew were. Plunging into blazing infernos required a certain level of brazenness. “What—ten, twelve years ago?”

“Eleven, give or take a few months.” She shifted from one foot to another, still looking unaccountably distressed about the whole thing. “It’s why my family is so overprotective of me. I was sick for so long they got into the habit of taking care of me and never learned how to stop.”

He wasn’t sure why she looked so uncomfortable—of the two of them, he was obviously the biggest ass. Here he was, joking about the deprivations in store for her on a fully funded state parkland when she’d gone through so much worse. Hell, even his two diabetic comas seemed paltry in comparison.

Foot, meet mouth. Harrison Parks, meet speaking before you think. It was a tale as old as time.

“Shit, Sophie,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

She transformed almost before his eyes. How a woman as small as she was could suddenly seem larger-than-life was beyond him, but that was what she did. Her eyes flashed a dangerous warning and she vibrated with some unknown energy.

“Don’t you dare say that to me,” she warned, that energy sparking out her eyes. “Not ever again, not if you want to keep standing.”

He didn’t laugh. The idea of this five-foot-two pixie forcing him to the ground was ludicrous in the extreme, but he didn’t doubt that she could do it. She’d already flattened him so many times—and in so many different ways.

“I’m sorr—” he began before her grunt of exasperation stopped him short.

“Don’t pity me,” she said. “I only told you because I wanted you to understand. Why I’m here, why I’m determined to see this thing through no matter what.”

Pity had been the last thing on his mind, but her meaning hit him like a punch to the gut, preventing him from defending himself the way he wanted to.

“You’re here because Oscar asked you to be,” he said, his voice flat.

“Yes.”

“Because you’d do anything for him.”

“Yes.”

“Because he saved your life.”

“Yes.”