Warm Nights in Magnolia Bay by Babette Jongh (best fantasy books to read TXT) đź“•
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- Author: Babette Jongh
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Georgia sat by the door and looked contrite, her tail thumping ever so slightly.
“Yeah, I know you’re sorry. But you still have to get a bath.”
The tail thumped some more, and Georgia whined softly, looking out toward the yard. She’d been trained to obey, to come when called, and not to run free unless she’d been given permission.
“That’s right. You’d better come here. Don’t make me come and get you.”
Georgia wouldn’t run, but she wasn’t going to make this easy, either. Abby took a lead rope off the wall and scooted toward Georgia, who leaned into the corner and looked toward a freedom she knew better than to take.
“I don’t know why you do this to yourself.” Abby clipped the lead rope to Georgia’s collar. “You know it always ends up this way.”
But to be fair, Abby usually bathed Georgia in the bathtub with warm water, which she didn’t seem to mind all that much. But enduring the cold water that spewed from the outdoor hose with punishing force obviously wasn’t on Georgia’s list of favorite things to do.
But you know, Abby felt put-out enough at Georgia’s misbehavior that she didn’t much care whether the bad little dog enjoyed her bath or had to suffer through it. This whole exercise had interrupted Abby’s happy hour, completely obliterating the relaxing effect of the wine. Now, once Georgia was clean, Abby would have to start relaxing all over again, but she’d already be 140 calories in the hole.
She tugged the unwilling dog into the washing stall and picked up the dripping hose. Georgia pulled against the restraining lead rope, and Abby jerked back, then tied the rope to the handlebars of the scooter. “It’ll be over before you know it,” she promised. Relenting a bit at the sight of the dog’s trembling flanks and desperate eyes, Abby turned the nozzle to the gentlest setting. “Come on. It won’t be that bad.”
She wrapped her fingers around Georgia’s collar and hit the nozzle’s spray button. Next thing she knew, Abby was on her butt, the scooter was halfway across the barn, and Georgia was gone.
Chapter 16
Quinn stood in the living room of the sprawling, Craftsman-style estate house, taking stock. He’d been running the AC, so a little of the musty smell had begun to dissipate. A good deep-cleaning might remove the rest of the odor, and a few coats of paint and varnish would bring out the timeless beauty of this old place. Even the tile in the kitchen and bathrooms didn’t look too bad to regrout and refinish. The place was starting to look good, but that didn’t mean he should fall in love with it, or with the idea of staying once he’d completed the renovation. He needed to remain committed to his goals.
He knew the idea of putting down roots here was pie-in-the-sky thinking brought on by a better-than-imagined weekend with Sean, the first time they’d really connected in years. Quinn tried to stop his imagination from spinning out impossible scenarios, but they kept coming back, so he let himself dream a little dream that could never come true—not if he planned to make any money. Maybe if he won the lottery…
He didn’t mind the animal noises and the school field trips quite as much as he had at first.
No, scratch that. He couldn’t fool himself about the field trips. But at least those subsided during the summer months, and if he decided to stay and live at the estate, he’d be out working during the weekdays anyway. And after spending a significant amount of time with the animals, their braying and honking and crowing and barking and clucking and meowing didn’t bother him anymore. Worn out from staying busy all day, he even slept right through the rooster’s early-morning alarms.
So yeah, if he won the lottery, he could see himself staying here and building a bayside paradise, not for an imaginary retired couple, but for himself, for Sean, and maybe even for Abby, if that worked out. He and Abby and Sean could plan and renovate the estate house together, then they’d all live there, happily ever after. Abby would be next door to her aunt Reva, so they’d each have a built-in support network right next door.
And Reva would probably retire sometime, right? So the field trips would be a thing of the past one of these days. Meanwhile, Sean could have a cool part-time job that would keep him close to Quinn. During the summer months—to supplement his lottery winnings—Quinn could take more cabinetry jobs that would allow him to work at home, make his own hours, and spend even more time with his son.
The more he thought about it, the more possible it all seemed. (Well, except for the lottery part. For that, he’d have to buy a ticket, though he knew that would only just barely improve his chances of winning.)
Tomorrow, he’d be back down to earth. But today, he let himself believe. The weekend he’d just spent with Abby and Sean made him think that anything was possible. And maybe it was, as long as his real estate agent hadn’t acted on his suggestion—okay, mea culpa, insistence—that she do something to get rid of the farm next door. At the time, he’d been pissed off and freaking out that his only hope of a bright future was about to be sabotaged, and he hadn’t cared what the neighbors thought, because he planned not to know them.
He didn’t want to think about the drama it would cause between him and Abby if Delia had set something nasty in motion. He hoped to God that Delia had ignored him and done nothing, but he had no way of knowing because she still hadn’t answered his text.
He’d told her once that
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