Warm Nights in Magnolia Bay by Babette Jongh (best fantasy books to read TXT) 📕

“I’ll be happy to help. Just let me know when.”

“Thanks. I will.” All she wanted right now was to stagger inside, doctor her damaged feet, and sort out the swirl of emotions that had been stirred up by her aunt’s sexy new neighbor.

* * *

Quinn trudged to the pool house, pressing a fist into the knotted muscles surrounding his lower spine. Much as he appreciated the appearance of his surprisingly attractive neighbor (or neighbor’s niece…whatever), he could have done without the equine attack that prompted the meeting.

He chuckled at the memory of Abby’s barefooted ferocity—ready to do battle in Daffy Duck boxers and a barely there tank top. With her hazel eyes flashing, her cheeks on fire, and a wild cloud of honey-brown hair tumbling over her shoulders, she tempted him to forget how much damn trouble women could be.

In the bathroom, he lowered his boxer-briefs, then twisted around in front of the mirror to assess the damage. Black-and-blue hoofprints marred his lower back. His left butt cheek sported burgundy-and-purple bite marks.

“Admiring your backside?”

At the snide tone of his ex-wife’s voice, Quinn snatched up his jeans so quickly his underwear rolled into an uncomfortable wad around his hips. He met her dark eyes in the bathroom mirror. “Melissa, I don’t recall inviting you in.” And he had never admired his backside. Hers, yes. That was what had gotten him into this whole mess—the mess that was his life—in the first place.

He reached back and slammed the bathroom door in her face. She’d rejected him, not the other way around. But that didn’t mean she could sashay back into his life whenever she took a notion. “What are you doing here,” he yelled through the closed door.

“I can’t have Sean coming here until I know it’s safe.”

Until she knows it’s safe. Right. As if he’d do anything to endanger his own son, who at fifteen was nearly as tall as Quinn and could handle his own self in any case. Quinn readjusted his underwear and buttoned his jeans. Following his therapist’s advice, he closed his eyes and counted ten cleansing breaths before he wrenched open the bathroom door.

Dressed to impress in a pin-striped girl-suit that impressed him more than he wished it did, Melissa stood with a smirk on her expertly painted face. “You look like hell.”

Another deep breath allowed him to walk past his ex-wife into his small but clean kitchen. With determined civility, he poured water on the fireworks she seemed equally determined to ignite. He knew he had a lot to atone for, so as his therapist suggested, he let her snarky comments slide. They both had to work through their anger and resentment in whatever way worked for them.

For him, it was a determination to keep his mouth shut in the short term. In the long term, he planned to make a fortune he could flap in her face like a red flag.

For her, it was a determination to show him what he was missing in the short term. In the long term, she planned to get along better without him than she had with him.

She had the added secret weapon of snark, but he had to give her that advantage. He’d been absent when she needed him, so she’d learned to take care of herself, then kicked him to the curb when he lost everything. He understood her grievance and was willing to pay the price, but still, it stung. “Would you like a drink?”

Melissa kicked off her red-soled high heels and flung herself onto his new gray couch. “What’ve you got?”

He opened the refrigerator. “OJ, Coke, and V-8.”

“I won’t be here that long. I just wanted to see where Sean will be staying next weekend, if he decides to come.”

If he decides to come. As if the kid would have any choice if his mother even pretended to uphold the court’s visitation ruling. Quinn popped the top on a V-8 and sucked it down, then tossed the empty can into the trash. He knew better than to engage, but his ability to maintain detachment had its limits. “Feel free to look around.”

“Already did that, thanks.” She slipped into her shoes and stood. “Can’t say I approve of all the prepackaged food in your cupboards, but I guess it won’t kill him to eat junk a few days out of the month.”

Quinn bit back a scathing comment. Proud he’d managed to keep his fool mouth shut, he followed her out and watched her wobble across the gravel in her high heels, then slide into a shiny, red BMW M6 convertible and drive away.

* * *

Wolf watched the man walk around the corner of the house and stand by the frog pool, his shoulders slumped, his energy deflated. Wolf hid under the hedge fence that enclosed the farm with its locked gate and all the tasty animal smells. The man glanced in his direction, and Wolf lowered himself to the ground, blending with the leaf clutter beneath the hedge’s straggling branches.

The human didn’t seem threatening now; not like he had earlier today when he yelled at the panicked donkey who had trespassed. Wolf had watched the commotion from a thicket of brush, ready to defend his new friend Georgia.

But he had made a terrible mistake before by protecting his family when his help wasn’t welcome. He hoped his family would return for him, but he didn’t deserve it yet. He had to reconcile the two halves of his nature and understand what his human family expected of him, even if it didn’t make sense.

He didn’t know exactly what he’d done wrong. The whole messy situation had become jumbled in his memory. But even though the details of the incident had blurred in his mind, the ultimate conclusion remained crystal clear.

Out of love, he had made a mistake.

That meant love was dangerous.

Birds flitted among the leaves above his head; a bright-red pair scolded him from the nest they were building. When the man went inside, Wolf