Page 83 of Puppy Love

“Hey,” she said and released her hold on his hair. “What’s wrong? Harrison—are you okay? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost. Or, um, tasted one.”

A light laugh shook him. Even now, she was giving him a gift. Even now, she was lifting him up simply by being herself.

It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her what he felt, to admit that he was so far from being okay, that his life’s happiness was now entirely in her hands, but he didn’t. That was one of her gifts too. With a smile that stitched the last piece of his heart into place, she took his hand and helped him up.

“Come on. We can scoot Bubbles over and snuggle in your secret clubhouse bed. I think I spied some Neruda on your bookshelf. I had no idea you were such a romantic.”

“He’s okay,” Harrison admitted with a blush.

Sophie lifted his hand to her mouth and placed a soft kiss in the palm of his hand. “You’re okay too, Harrison.”

He blushed deeper. He wasn’t willing to gothatfar just yet. But the one thing he did know for sure was that if Sophie was willing to stay in his life for good, hecouldbe.

Chapter 18

“That’s weird. Are you expecting one of your sisters?” Harrison turned his truck into his drive, not bothering to lift his hand from where it sat on Sophie’s leg.

She liked the way it lay there—naturally and heavily, an extension of the man himself. He often held Bubbles that way, with that one hand curled possessively over the puppy’s fluffy coat. Sophie had always considered it more of Harrison’s way to comfort himself than to protect the animal, and she liked that hand on her thigh for the very same reason.

He could have stroked it too, if he’d wanted. In fact, she kind of hoped he would. She was ruined for all other normal human interactions. She wasn’t thinking about work or dinner or even the blue sedan parked in the drive that looked an awful lot like the one her mom drove. All she wanted was to go back to that quiet, perfect attic space where Harrison hadfinallylet her in.

And she hadn’t been forced to push even once. He’d just opened the door and followed her up those stairs.

Harrison, however, had other things on his mind. “I thought you said you expressly forbade them from contacting you for anything less than a major medical emergency,” he said.

“I did, but that’s not going to stop either of them stopping by anytime they darn well please. They might even be compelled to bring my mom.”

She stole a look at Harrison’s profile, but he didn’t appear unduly worried by that declaration. Then again, he did have a hand curled around her upper thigh, so maybe he was preoccupied with other thoughts.

But when he spoke, it was with nothing but a relaxed, calm air. “Would they? Huh. I’ve been wondering what she’s like.”

“She’s intrusive and overbearing, but in such a nice, likable way that it’s impossible to complain. Once you open the door and let her in, you’ll never get rid of her again.”

“She’s like you, then.”

She smacked him on the arm. “Excuse you. I’m a freaking delight.”

He leaned down and pressed a kiss onto her hand, which lingered on the swell of his bicep. “Yes,” he said, his voice grave. “You are.”

Those simple words, simply uttered, sent a thrill through her. Harrison Parks wasn’t a man who gave compliments very often—or very effusively—but that was what made this one so powerful.

He liked her. He took delight in her. And more to the point, he wasn’t scared of the possibility of meeting her mother.

They pulled up next to the car, which Sophie quickly realized didn’t belong to her mom. Alice Vasquez’s car was a mess of her husband’s academic papers and books, with half a dozen stuffed puppies of various breeds crammed below the back window. Dawn had given them to her for Christmas one year, joking that dogs were all the grandchildren she’d ever get. The toys were faded and lopsided now, but she’d never remove them. They’d been there so long they’d become a family totem.

“That’s not my mom,” Sophie said as the truck came to a halt. “Her car isn’t nearly that clean, and she’d never dangle a crystal from the rearview mirror like that. She read an article once about how many people crack their windshields that way.”

“Then who—?” Harrison asked before cutting himself off.

Sophie didn’t have to say what she was thinking.

“No,” he said. “I don’t believe it. You and Oscar can conjecture all you want, but he’s not seeing someone. My father doesn’t even like regularly seeing the dentist.”

“Would it be so bad?” she asked, wishing Wallace hadn’t sworn her to secrecy about his moving-out plans. “If he did find love?”

“No.” Harrison turned the key and sat back against the seat, his rugged face relaxed into a semblance of calm. Then he grinned, his smile so devastating and warm she almost feared her heart would stop. “If it had happened a month ago, I might have called the FBI and warned them about a case of body snatchers in the area, but not now.”

She couldn’t resist. “But not now?”