Free Welcome to Temptation by Jennifer Crusie

a thread of anger in his voice, neatly repressed like everything else about him. "They think the dogs will be free and wild, but most of them get hit right away, looking for their owners' cars."
    "That's terrible." Sophie stared down at the dog, outraged, and the dog stared up at her, upside down with those huge, melting brown eyes, comic and pathetic. "Is it hungry?"
    "Probably, but if you feed it, you'll never get rid of it."
    But there were those eyes. Sophie watched the dog for a minute while it watched her back, still upside down, and then she went into the kitchen to get some ham.
    Five minutes later, Sophie was sitting on the backporch steps, cautiously feeding ham to the grateful dog.
    "I never had a dog," she told Phin.
    "We always did." Phin leaned against the porch post. "My dad never turned a highway dog away. If we had too many, he found homes for the ones we couldn't keep."
    Sophie held out another piece of ham, and the dog took it gently. It looked up at her with the ham dangling from its mouth like an extra tongue, and she laughed because it looked so funny and sweet with its brown snout and black-ringed eyes. "Too much mascara, dog," she told it, and the dog opened its mouth and barked at her, dropping the ham. "Goofus," she said, and fed it again while the dog looked at her adoringly, completely ignoring Phin. Sophie held out another piece of ham.
    "That dog's a real politician," Phin said. "Goes right to the pork barrel and hunkers down."
    "Maybe I could keep him a couple of days, until we leave."
    "Sure," he said. "Just don't name it. That's always fatal."
    "Okay," Sophie said. "Here, dog, have some more ham."
    Phin's voice was casual when he spoke again. "So do you take care of the whole world, or just dogs and Amy?"
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    "Just Amy and my brother." Sophie fed the dog again.
    "And who takes care of you?" Phin said, and Sophie looked up, startled. "You're here because Amy and Clea want to do the video, and you're feeding ham to a dog you're not sure you like. Who takes care of you? When do you get what you want?"
    "I take care of me," she said, scowling at him. "I take very good care of me, and I always get what I want." Back off buddy.
    "Of course you do." Phin straightened. "Lots of luck with the dog." He went back to the front porch, and Sophie felt guilty for driving him away again, but then the dog nudged her hand with his nose, and she went back to feeding him. When the last of the ham was gone, Sophie patted the dog gingerly on the top of the head and the dog looked at her as if to say, You're new at this, aren't you? "I never had a dog," Sophie told it, and it sighed and settled in next to her, smearing mud on her khaki shorts. She patted it again and then went back into the kitchen and opened her PowerBook to block out a plan for the video now that the Lutzes were creating some story conflict on the front porch. The dog sat outside the screen door and watched her, and she sat behind her PowerBook and watched it back.
    She couldn't remember ever having wanted a dog. It would have been impossible on the road anyway; the last thing she and her mother had needed was something else to take care of. And then she'd been stuck in that little apartment at seventeen, trying to raise Davy and Amy, and a dog was really the last thing she'd needed.
    But there was something in the patient way this dog looked through the screen door at her, not trying to get in, just watching her. From the outside.
    It rolled over on its back outside the screen door so all she could see was four stubby white feet pointed to the sky. "Okay," Sophie said, and let him in. "But you're covered with mud, so don't get on the furniture or anything." The dog sighed and lay down at her feet, and when Amy called her name and she went out to the front yard, it followed her.
    Amy was standing behind the camera, talking to Phin, but she stopped when she saw Sophie coming.
    "We've got a problem," she said as Sophie got close, and then she