Page 10 of Just Say (Hell) No
They could resist, unfortunately. She got them stripped down to Blues jerseys and rugby shorts—tight and short, respectively, which wasn’t what you’d call ‘terrible’—but that was as far as it went in the unclothed department. Pity.
She told them, while the half-dozen tumbling, floppy-eared puppies in various shades of black, brown, and white did their exuberant best to escape the confinement of their box, “These are your subjects. Their mum came in here half-starved and filthy, but she’d taken good care of her babies. Dug them a den in a bank and kept them alive. After all her hard work, seems the least we can do is find them homes.” And then she got behind her camera and waited to see what would happen. The puppies were fairly irresistible to her. Maybe they would be to these fellas as well. If not, she’d think of something.
She’d expected Koti to be the one to dive in. Instead, Marko did. He went straight for the male with the brown patch over one eye who was doing his best to climb out of the box on the backs of his brothers and sisters, his tail wagging his entire back end and his round belly hanging half over the side, and picked him up in a hand so big and so assured, Nyree may have experienced an estrogen surge. After that, he stroked the wiggly little body and took a good look, eye to eye.
Camera,she thought after a stupefied second, and got behind it fast. She got the shot, got a few more, then lifted the camera off the tripod. Posing wasn’t going to be happening. This was candid all the way, and it was gold. She snapped as quickly as the camera would respond, and when Marko picked up another puppy, then another, so he had three of the little creatures nestled into the crook of his brawny arm? Oh, yeh. She got that shot, too.
He turned to Koti, smiled with absolutely no hard edges, all of the guardedness gone, and said, “Mate. Get in here. They won’t break.”
“Never had a dog, actually,” Koti said.
“What was all that, then,” Marko asked as an emboldened little girl, white with black spots and a brown patch on her muzzle, put her paws on his broad shoulder and Nyree kept snapping, “about coming with me to look at the puppies for your kids?”
“Ah…” Koti scratched his perfect cheek and grimaced. “I may have been looking for some entertainment. I wouldn’t know how to choose a dog. Also, Kate could have a thing or two to say if I brought home a puppy, so there’s that.”
“Here,” Nyree said, tearing herself and her camera away from Marko with a major effort. “We’ll do an easy one. Pick this little girl up like this, see?” She demonstrated on the final puppy left in the box, the runt of the litter. “You can roll her over onto her back and hold her in your palms. There. Just right. Perfect.” She took the shot and kept talking, kept him there. Muscular arms, Maori tattoo, tiny puppy looking adoringly up into that famous face?Yes.“That’s a puppy-choosing test, so you know. Whether they’ll let you do that. No worries here, as she’s a quiet one. You’d want a puppy with more confidence, really, but it makes a lovely photo.” She lifted her camera again and got a couple shots of Koti holding his little friend to his bronzed cheek.
But there Marko was, too, on the floor with a lap full of wiggly puppies and a grin on his normally hard face. Choices, choices.
She got lucky again. Koti set the submissive puppy down at last, Marko picked her up, rolled her over in his hand, scratched her belly, and—
Sometimes, life gave you a pure gift.
Yes, the dog did it. She took a wee on him. The liquid dripped between his fingers, he made a face that had Nyree laughing even as she shot, and she thought,Good on ya, little miss. We’ll be using this one.
Marko didn’t say anything. He set the puppy carefully back down in her box, went for the roll of paper toweling hanging on the wall, wiped his hands, and wiped the floor.
Koti, though, didn’t hold back. “Reckon she didn’t like you, cuz. Never mind. Some girls have no taste.”
“No,” Nyree said, deciding with reluctance that the puppies, currently trying to chase each other across the shiny, slippery floor, had had enough and putting them back into their box with their sister. “She liked him too much. Some dogs, especially submissive females, can get a little overwhelmed by certain men. Urinating when he turns her over is her way of saying, ‘You’re big and strong,’ and acknowledging his dominance. Keeping herself unthreatening, keeping herself safe. Sounds appealing, I’m sure,” she told Marko, “but in fact, a dog like that can turn out too fearful. And, of course, you may not want her weeing on you every night when you come home. There’s your carpet to consider.”
“A downside,” he agreed gravely. “It’s interesting that you’d think it’s appealing to me. Why is that, I wonder?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” She shouldn’t be antagonizing him, and she definitely shouldn’t be flirting with him. She didn’t want a rugby player. She didn’t wanthim.“Could be I was reminded of the way some men expect women to fall into their lap, even if the woman is doing nothing but having a run, getting her exercise. Excuse my assumption.”
“Knew there was a reason I’d come,” Koti murmured, not quite under his breath. “Finally.”
“When did I say that?” Marko asked, completely ignoring Koti. “Seems to me I asked you to lunch, and that was all. Maybe I was hungry, did you think of that?”
“Or maybe you were lonely,” Koti put in. “And as you don’t have a dog…”
“Not helping, mate,” Marko informed him, but he kept those dark eyes fixed on Nyree. That was some fixing. More like “pinning.” The man couldstare.
She picked up the box of puppies, who’d suddenly decided, in the manner of puppies, that they had to go to sleep right now, and said, “I’ll be back in a second. One more quick thing, and I’ll let you go.” Then she escaped.
She’d catch her breath. And yank her mind back under control again.
Definitely.
Koti said, “You’re toast, mate.”
“I told you,” Marko said, looking at the door Nyree had just walked through. “I don’t want a dog.”
“I wasn’t talking about the dog.”
Marko said, “I’m going to wash my hands. If she comes in before I get back, don’t get excited and take off your jersey. Control yourself.”
No excuse today, he thought as he scrubbed his hands and arms and looked at his reflection in the mirror. He was over the knitting-bag brain freeze and its aftermath, and Nyree wasn’t wearing a bra and saucy little skirt. Any man would have had trouble dealing with those. She was showing almost no skin at all, in fact. So why was he still staring that hard?
