What a Man's Gotta Do by Karen Templeton

want.” She got up, went over to the counter and began hauling covered bowls and things out of a plastic grocery bag. Thanksgiving leftovers, Eddie assumed. Sure enough, he heard the crackle offoil being unwrapped, then watched as she began shredding pieces of turkey into a margarine tub she’d grabbed from a whole mess of them underneath the sink. Seconds later, she knelt down again, maybe five feet from the cupboard.
    â€œHey, muttsky…come see what I’ve got.”
    The snout reappeared, whiskers twitching around a shiny black nose.
    â€œNow, you know and I know you’re hungry,” she said softly, “so just get your fuzzy little butt out here…come on…that’s a boy…just a few steps farther…”
    His belly hugging the floor, the dog slunk over to Mala, snatched a piece of turkey from her hand, then streaked back to his hiding place to scarf it down.
    Eddie picked his sweater up off the floor, shook it out, slipped it back on over his T-shirt. “You’ve gotta admit, he’s a cute little bugger.”
    â€œI’m not keeping the dog,” she said, again settling cross-legged onto the rug and holding out another piece of turkey. The dog repeated the slink-snatch-retreat routine twice more, but by the fourth time, he apparently decided nobody was gonna stick him in another garbage bag so he might as well just stay put and let the nice lady pet him while he ate.
    â€œOkay, that’s all,” she said a few seconds later, holding her hands up in front of the pup to show him they were empty. The beast planted his bony butt on the floor, wagging his tail, and yipped. Mala laughed, then sighed. “I can’t keep you,” she said, only to sigh again when the pup crawled into her lap, curled up, let out a huge, contented sigh and promptly passed out. “I can’t,” she whispered, stroking his head.
    Eddie frowned. Any fool could see she wanted the dog, that it had already wormed past her defenses and into her heart. Yet there she sat, obviously tearing herself up over this, like she was being pressured to take in an ex-con or something rather than a five-pound puppy. A little on the aggravated side, although he wasn’t really sure why, Eddie got to his feet and said, “I guess I should go,” except she said, almost at the same time, “Would you like a sandwich or something?”
    She won’t let you go without feeding you first, either.
    The thought slammed into him, ricocheting around his brain for a couple real scary seconds before she looked up. And he saw an ache in her expression that just plumb twisted his gut all to hell.
    â€œYou know, there’s nothing says you can’t keep the dog,” he said, wondering where the hell he got off trying to convince this woman to take a chance on anything. All he knew was, he hated seeing that pain in her eyes, hated even more knowing there wasn’t a damn thing he could do to take it away.
    She looked away. “I know.”
    Against his better judgment, he squatted beside them, playing with one of the dog’s floppy little ears for a moment and inhaling that soft, sweet scent that he knew he’d already be able to identify blindfolded as Mala’s. He’d been around plenty of sweet-smelling women in his day, but none of them had ever stirred up feelings inside him the way this one did. Dumb feelings, most of them, of belonging and trust and hope. Little boy dreams, he realized.
    And he hadn’t been a little boy in a very long time.
    Yet he didn’t move away, either from her or the feelings, so that when he said, “So you’ll at least think about it?” his breath stirred the fine, silky hairs at her temple. She shuddered, just slightly, in response, rousing deeper, stronger feelings that were anything but those of a little boy.
    â€œI’ll think about it,” she said.
    â€œThen I guess I’ll stay and have that