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

there was nothing better to do. He had that same dream he’d had before in which Abby was a mermaid in the frog-green pool. As before, the dream started out erotic and turned out dark. But this time, she wasn’t dragging him down. This time, she was stuck underwater, unable to breathe, and hopelessly tangled in a net he’d thrown over the pool before he knew she was down there. And no matter how hard he swam, he couldn’t get past the net’s sturdy mesh to save her.

When Wolf’s lonely howl outside the door woke Quinn at 2:00 a.m., he was almost relieved. He wouldn’t get any sleep tonight, but at least he could stop dreaming.

* * *

Georgia’s high-pitched howl woke Abby from a dead sleep at 2:00 a.m. She bolted upright. “What?”

Georgia howled again. Abby listened to the sounds outside, alert for signs of an intruder breaking in. But all she could hear was the familiar nighttime chorus of tree frogs and crickets. “What is it, Georgia?”

The little dog howled again, the sound mournful and distraught. And then, Abby heard Wolf’s answering howl coming from next door. “Oh, girl.” Abby stroked Georgia’s fur. “Are you missing Wolf?”

Georgia howled again. Of course she was missing her friend. But she and Wolf had chosen opposite sides in this ongoing war between Abby and Quinn. “I’m sorry,” Abby said. “You can go over there if you want to.”

But Georgia only lifted her face to the ceiling and howled again.

“Come here.” Abby hauled Georgia up close and tried to snuggle her back to sleep, but Georgia’s body remained taut with tension. Abby held Georgia still and managed to drift off into dreamland herself, but Georgia bolted upright at 3:16 a.m. and started howling again.

Abby took the little dog’s face in her hands and stared into her worried brown eyes. “Georgia. If I promise to talk to Quinn tomorrow, will you please let me sleep?”

Georgia pulled away and howled again. Wolf howled back, and Abby almost considered going to Quinn’s right away. But thoughts of the swarms of mosquitoes that would attack her between here and there held her off. “I promise, I’ll talk to Quinn tomorrow if you’ll just let me sleep tonight.”

After few minutes more of singing the songs of her people while Wolf sang back from Quinn’s side of the fence, Georgia quieted down and seemed to relax. “That’s it, girl,” Abby crooned and massaged Georgia’s tense muscles. “You just relax and go to sleep. Tomorrow is a new day, and we’ll all do better tomorrow.”

With a groan, Georgia stretched out and aligned herself along Abby’s leg. Did they have an agreement? Abby couldn’t be sure. But at least Georgia finally fell asleep.

Even more important, she let Abby fall asleep and stay that way until morning.

* * *

The mayor of Magnolia Bay stepped around the massive mayoral desk to shake Quinn’s hand. The man didn’t look at all like Quinn expected; not a portly politician in a slick-looking suit, but a tall, vigorous-looking man in his early sixties wearing a golf shirt and khaki pants. “Hello, Mr. Lockhart,” the mayor boomed. (At least his voice sounded like Quinn had expected it to.)

Quinn extended a hand. “Mayor Wright, thank you for making time for me.”

The mayor clasped Quinn’s hand and shook it with firm determination. “What can I do you for?”

Quinn ground his back teeth at the mayor’s classic southern penchant for turning grammar on its head in a cutesy way. “I’d like to propose a business deal to counter the one you’re currently considering regarding the bayside marina development.”

“Ah, yes.” The mayor indicated that Quinn should take a seat across from the desk. “Mack put a small bug in my ear about your idea.” He folded his lanky frame into his fancy leather desk chair, scooted the chair up close, and steepled his fingers in front of his lips. “I’m listening.”

Quinn relayed the list of pros and cons he’d come up with last night. The pros of taking a sure-bet deal to build an animal shelter for the city on Quinn’s land versus the cons of letting developers build a hotel and marina complex that, even if the environmental impact study came in on their side, would still take upward of five years to start making a profit.

“But the animal shelter won’t make a profit at all, will it?” Mayor Wright asked. “It’ll be a drain on the economy.”

“You are correct that the shelter won’t make a profit. But it will provide a vital service to the community that your constituents will appreciate come election time, and it won’t be a drain on the economy.”

Quinn thanked God that he and Mack had brainstormed with Reva over Skype about how the shelter’s renovation and build-out could be paid for, and what the likely operating expenses would be once the shelter was up and running. He explained the plan. They would apply for a grant to fund the construction, then use several potential income streams—such as government grants, private endowments, local business partnerships, local fund-raising efforts, and adoption fees—to fund ongoing operations.

Most important, he made it clear that Bayside Barn would be an integral part of the shelter’s operations. They would house any abused or neglected farm animals or equines that were brought into the shelter. That would, of course, require them to maintain the ability to keep farm animals within the city limits.

“I’ll definitely think about it,” the mayor promised, standing. This time, he stayed behind his desk, but extended his hand across the desk. “Thank you so much for coming in.”

An offer to think about it wasn’t what Quinn had expected, either. He had expected—or at least hoped for—an enthusiastic acceptance. He stood and shook the mayor’s hand. “When will you make your decision?”

“I’ll probably wait to hear both sides’ arguments at the next city council meeting. Once the council makes its decision, I’ll decide whether to veto or not.” The mayor sat back down, scooted his chair up, and pulled