Page 42 of Puppy Love

“Yeah, I know. Wearing normal human clothes.”

The figure, who wore a checked shirt that looked freshly ironed, paused and turned. Only a fraction of a second passed before he turned again and trotted the rest of the way across the street, but it was enough for Harrison to confirm that it was, in fact, his father. Not only was his shirt ironed, but he had a clean pair of Dickies on and his hair had been combed back with what looked like a whole can of styling product.

“I think he looks nice,” Sophie said. “Maybe he has a date.”

Harrison stared at her. Sophie was, without question, one of the most starry-eyed and optimistic souls he’d ever met, but evenshecouldn’t take things that far. “Are you kidding? My father hasn’t had a date since the eighties. He’s a confirmed misogynist.”

“No, he’s not. He’s just a little crusty. You both are. But believe me when I say it doesn’t make either one of you unattractive.” A shy gaze flicked up and down his body. “If anything, it only adds to your appeal.”

His heart gave a stutter. “You think my dad is attractive?”

“Well, no. But that’s only because I have my sights set on someone else.”

He didn’t ask. He couldn’t. To hear those words out loud would only mean he’d have to face the reality of them and admit the truth.

He didn’t just like Sophie anymore. He liked hera lot.

It was, without question, the worst thing that could have happened. This game of theirs—the push and pull, the breaking of barriers—was just that. A game.Playing, she’d called it.Pushing this way. Playing a little.Nowhere in that was there any hint of permanence. Nowhere in there did she promise anything more.

Fortunately, there were other issues he could focus on. None of them were more pressing than the desire that was taking over both his body and his reason, but he could pretend.

He had to.

“He told me he was going to the bar this morning,” Harrison said.

“He goes to bars before noon?”

“Morning, noon, and night.” He nodded. “I warned you that Parks men are no good. But he wasn’t wearing that when he left this morning. In fact…”

He’d thought it was odd at the time, but his father had left the house wearing the exact same pair of overalls he’d had on yesterday. The man might dress like a farmer left out too long in the sun, but he was pretty fastidious about cleanliness. All those years in police uniform would do that to a man.

“What is it?” Sophie asked.

Harrison shook his head, hoping to corral his thoughts into order. Bubbles, Sophie, his dad, red pants—it was a lot to take in.

“Nothing. I just…” He frowned. “Hehasbeen going to the bar a lot lately. More than usual. But not even he can nurse a drink for ten hours every day, and what’s he even doing in Spokane? He never leaves Deer Park unless he has no other choice.”

A sound almost like a squeak left Sophie’s mouth. “Itisa date! A secret date he doesn’t want you to know about.”

He grunted to indicate how ridiculous he considered that idea.

She ignored it, latching on to the theme with an enthusiasm not even Bubbles could rival. “Do you think he met her online? Do you think they’re Facebook friends? Ooh, do you think he Tinders?”

“Sophie Vasquez, if you know what’s good for you, you will never refer to my dad and Tinder in the same sentence again.”

She giggled. “What? Everyone has needs.”

“Yes, and my father suppresses them the way all isolated, bad-tempered men do.”

“Is that what you do?” she asked.

He didn’t know how to answer her. It was the sort of question that would, a few weeks ago, have caused him to break down and turn off, storming away from the conversation.Now, however…

“Let’s just get the stupid red cotton-candy yarn,” he muttered.

That wasn’t even close to what he wanted to say, but it was the only thing he could think of in the heat of the moment. Sophie said knitting would help relax him, so he’d knit. He’d knit until his fingers bled. He’d knit until he forgot how good it felt just to stand next to this woman in a yarn store, discussing his private life as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

He yanked the yarn from the shelf, almost bringing an entire rainbow column descending upon them both. It made him irrationally angry, to be felled by so much tantalizing softness, so he turned on Sophie with a glare. “But I want it stated for the record that if Bubbles turns into a wanton harlot after this, I’m holding you personally responsible.”