Warm Nights in Magnolia Bay by Babette Jongh (best summer books .TXT) 📗

a witty response—or at least one that didn’t sound idiotic—when she jumped in with a change of subject. “Are you new to Magnolia Bay?”

He gulped down his cider and poured another glass, wishing it were beer—or something stronger. He hadn’t expected the Spanish Inquisition (because nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition). “I’ve visited Magnolia Bay before because it’s my ex-wife’s hometown, but I moved here to be closer to my son.”

“Oh.” Abby held out her glass for a refill. “That’s…um, that’s great.”

He poured up. This conversation must be hard on her, too. “That’s one way of looking at it.”

“So, you’ve got a job here, I guess?”

“No, not yet.” He didn’t say the rest of it: Because I lost my job and my reputation when I trusted my business partner and got sold down the river. “I’m…between jobs right now. I was in the construction business in New Orleans with my best friend who’s a building contractor, but it didn’t work out. I’m hoping to start over here where I can be closer to my son.”

“Oh. Well. That sounds…” She looked uncomfortable for a second, then perked up. “I’m sure you’ll like the neighborhood. My aunt loves it here.”

“So your aunt… Is she traveling or something?”

Abby swallowed. “Yes. She’s doing a three-month internship at a wildlife refuge in south Florida. By the end of the summer, she’ll be able to keep bobcats, owls, hawks, deer, and all sorts of injured wildlife at the farm.”

“Great.” Just great. How he managed to luck into finding such great neighbors, he’d never know. “Sounds like she’s full up already. How many…um…animal family members do you have over there now? Aside from Georgia, I mean.”

Abby set her glass down, stared at the ceiling, and counted on her fingers. “Twelve cats, eight bunnies, two donkeys, two ponies, three sheep, five goats, one mini-zebu cow, one potbellied pig—they’re best friends. Two peacocks, five geese, six ducks, about eighteen chickens, one scarlet macaw, a pair of Amazons, six sun conures, a dozen parakeets, and a swarm of bees.” She dropped her hands into her lap and smiled.

“And a partridge in a pear tree,” he added.

“Not yet, but I wouldn’t be surprised if one showed up.” Her pink lips curled up at the edges, her hazel eyes crinkled at the corners. Her heart-shaped face and quiet features were pretty in an unvarnished way. She wore makeup, but it didn’t look as if her eyelashes were in danger of crawling away by themselves.

“Magnolia Bay doesn’t have an animal shelter,” she explained, “so people who know about Bayside Barn dump animals off all the time. Dogs, cats, chickens, even the potbellied pig.”

Again, just his luck to have an animal-hoarding neighbor with a hobo-friendly sign on the gate. “That must be—”

Georgia scrabbled at the sliding glass door and barked a high-pitched alarm.

Abby jumped to her feet, almost spilling her drink. “Something’s wrong.” She fumbled with the door latch. “Something’s out there.”

“Wait. I’ll come with you.” Quinn ran into the kitchen and grabbed a flashlight. The door screeched open, and Abby and Georgia rushed out.

“Fine,” he said to the empty room. “Don’t wait.”

The flashlight’s beam bounced as he ran, following the sounds of geese honking, chickens clucking, Georgia barking, and Abby yelling.

“Nooo.” Abby’s voice sounded anguished. “Bad dog. Drop it…”

The flashlight’s beam caught Abby chasing an enormous gray canine who galloped across the yard with a flapping, squawking chicken in its jaws. She threw an empty bucket, but it bounced harmlessly on the ground. Out of breath, panting, Abby lagged behind.

Georgia kept going; low to the ground, bullet-fast, and closing in.

The big dog looked back, halted stride.

Within snapping distance of the larger dog’s thick, plumy tail, Georgia stopped and sat.

The big dog turned and dropped the now-motionless chicken. Only paces apart, the two canines stared at each other.

The huge dog’s eyes glowed yellow. Its large rounded head, pointed ears, long snout, and thick shaggy coat made it appear more wolf than dog.

Abby reached out, knuckles presented. “Hey, buddy. Where did you come from? Are you hungry?”

Quinn sprang forward. “Abby, no.” If the thing lunged and bit, it could do serious damage.

The gray wolf dog broke into a scuttling run and streaked past, heading for the open gate.

Quinn grabbed Abby’s arm. “Are you crazy?” His heart hadn’t figured out that the danger was past; it hammered overtime, flooding him with adrenaline. “That big dog could have torn you apart.”

“He wouldn’t have. He was just hungry.” Abby picked up the dead chicken and cradled it gently. “I’m sorry, Biddle.”

Quinn shone the light on the chicken’s limp form. “Is it dead?”

Dry-eyed, Abby nodded. “It’s my fault. I left the gate open when I went to visit you. I should have closed the chicken coops, but some chickens were still out. I should have called them in and put them up.”

Quinn turned off the flashlight and patted Abby’s back in an awkward gesture of consolation. “Sometimes these things happen.”

“No. Their coop is safe if I close the door. If I don’t close the door, it’s a predator buffet.” Something stirred between them, and Abby gasped. “Turn on the flashlight.”

He did. The not-quite-dead bird fluttered in Abby’s arms.

“Biddle, you’re okay.” She stroked the bird’s feathers.

“Amazing. She looked for sure dead.”

“My aunt says that animals do that sometimes if they’ve suffered a big shock. Their spirits fly away and don’t come back until the danger has passed.”

“Interesting concept.” So Abby’s aunt was straight-up crazy, and Abby had drunk the Kool-Aid.

Georgia stood up on her hind legs and whined.

Abby reached down to pet the dog’s head. “Let’s go inside and make sure Biddle doesn’t have any injuries.”

Abby walked across the neatly mown lawn, and though he walked behind, Quinn shone the light in front of her. “Do you mind if I come? I might be able to help.” And he wanted to see inside the house next door. He told himself his curiosity was based purely on the resale value of his own property.

“Oh, thank you. I’d appreciate that.”

Picture windows across the