Page 9 of Pucks, Lies, and Sticktape

“I cried and held that whimpering puppy for hours. We took him to the vet, and Feller needed to have its leg amputated because of the extensive damage, and they asked us to put him down.”

“Oh no…” she breathed, feeling her eyes sting once more.

“I still couldn’t do it,” he admitted. “I gave Mom my allowance, begged her to help the dog, and promised to pay her back – but that was my dog, and he needed me.”

He slid her a sheepish smile.

“Feller is almost fourteen now and living with my parents. I have a three-legged mutt that I adore, and named him ‘Feller’ after seeing ‘Old Yeller’ on television. He’s completely spoiled, my big baby boy, and sleeps at the foot of my sister’s bed now. My schedule is a mess, and I can’t stand to leave Feller home alone because he might need something. Is that what you wanted to know? Now, will you come inside and eat so we can talk?”

She nodded, stunned.

He was… nice. Compassionate. Deep down, something in him would protect those less fortunate who were struggling, and it made her feel so much better knowing this. Not everyone would have done the same, and she imagined that if the dog was scared at the time, he was probably yelping, biting, and struggling, yet he managed to free him and save him.

“Good,” he replied simply, getting out of the car once more, and Jeannie followed him. She walked up to the door of the restaurant, ducking slightly as he held open the door for her, and then dipped back to the side to allow him to go first – only to feel his hand at the small of her back. “Come on…”

She swallowed, feeling so awkward at this kindness he seemed to be showing her. No one was like that to a stranger. As he followed the hostess, Matthieu slid into a booth opposite Jeannie and plucked two menus from the holder, handing her one.

“Soooo?” Matthieu began. “The burgers are good?”

“Divine.”

“I could go for that,” he chuckled and then looked at her. “Are you from here? Tell me about yourself… any pet stories you want to share with me?”

She let out a nervous laugh and looked away before turning her eyes back to him shyly. “No, no pets. I can’t have them in my apartment. Well, I could, but then there’s the whole pet depositand paying for any repairs, plus I’m not home much, and they deserve a yard, you know?”

“I do know, which is why Feller is in Minnesota with Katie.”

A moment later, the waitress arrived, and Jeannie couldn’t help feel like gum on the bottom of someone’s shoe the way the woman fawned and giggled at Matthieu as he ordered his meal.

Was this what womankind was reduced to –simpering?

“I’m gonna die an old maid,” she muttered in disgust as the waitress was leaning over the table to get their menus – which were placed at the end of the table for the next patron to use- and gave Matthieu a good view of the front of her shirt.

Except he wasn’t looking.

His blue eyes met hers, and there was a slight frown line between his eyebrows as if he were trying to figure her out. Her eyes widened as she realized he’d heard her, and her face flushed with embarrassment, tucking her hair behind her ear and looking anywhere but at him as the waitress finished gushing happily.

“… You just let me know if you need anything, handsome.”

“Yup,” he said evasively, not bothering to reply more than that… but the moment she was gone, he leaned forward slightly, putting both hands on the table and folding his fingers together. “What were you saying, Jeannie?”

Eh?

“Oh, um, you know… no pets, no family. I’ve got a small apartment that is going to be going empty pretty soon because I’m not staying there after today’s events.”

“You shouldn’t,” he agreed simply.

“I’m not,” she retorted, almost in disbelief as she stared at him, again taken aback. “I cannot believe all of that happened – and the way you stopped him. My gosh, you moved so quickly, like you were everywhere at once, and why are you smiling?”

“I wish you’d tell my boss that,” he chuckled. “I got in trouble today fornotdoing that.”

“Really? Oh no, that was incredible to see. I mean, you practically covered the man like a turtle shell, or a blanket, or… or… a…” she blanked, unable to think of a word to explain how he was everywhere, blocking everything, at once.

“A goalie?” he smiled softly.

“Yeah,” she shrugged. “Maybe? I don’t watch sports, so I wouldn’t know, but I guess if you were the person in front of the goal, the net, the yellow fork-looking thing on the field, then may… okay, now you are laughing again.”

Sure enough, Matthieu’s easy smile was now a full-on grin, and he was chortling back laughter, reaching for a napkin, and wiping his eyes as he snorted painfully…laughing at her.

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