Warm Nights in Magnolia Bay, Babette Jongh [book club books txt] 📗

to tell tall tales of daring and adventure, and Jim’s tales got bigger with each retelling. The story Jim liked to tell about that event bore little resemblance to what actually happened, and Quinn knew because he’d been there, an unwilling witness to a soul-sickening attack that he, as the younger brother, had no power to stop. “Something you should probably know about your uncle Jim: he’d climb a tree to tell a lie when he could stand on the ground and tell the truth.”

“He said that when he was hunting in a swamp one day, a water moccasin came after him and tried to bite him.”

They hadn’t been hunting so much as traipsing through the woods with the air rifles they’d gotten for Christmas. And when Jim saw the snake and decided that its skin would make a good hat band, all Quinn had been able to think at the time was that the poor snake was standing its ground in an effort to defend itself when fleeing didn’t work. “Any animal will fight back when you’re trying to kill it.”

“I get that,” Sean replied. “People want to kill what they fear, and any animal that’s being attacked has a right to defend itself.”

They drifted along with the current, and the serenity of the slow-moving water under the floating clouds seeped into the open pores of Quinn’s spirit. He realized that he could see himself as the snake, being attacked and forced to fight back. He could also see himself as a human driven by his internal fears to kill anything he couldn’t conquer. He wondered if Abby’s animal communication bullshit was getting to him; then he decided that if it was, that was okay with him.

After a half hour of silent paddling through the lush bayou, Sean spoke up. “Is Abby expecting us for dinner? It seems like feeding time for the barn critters.”

Abby had always used the term critters. That reminded Quinn too much of the steeped-in-the-South colloquialisms he’d spent a lifetime trying to escape. “She doesn’t need so much help since she had her cast removed.”

“But I miss the animals. And I miss Abby—especially her cooking.”

Quinn paddled around the corner of a spit of land, avoiding a fallen tree that stuck up out of the shallow water at the edge of the boggy island. “I miss her, too. But she doesn’t need our help anymore since her foot is better.” A couple of turtles plopped off a dead branch into the water. “I thought you and I would hang out, just the two of us, and work on the estate’s renovation this weekend.”

Sean paddled harder to catch up. “But I want to see Wolf before I go home.”

Go home. Those two words speared Quinn’s heart. His son’s home should be with him. But what he wanted more than having his son with him was having his son happy. “I’ll text Abby and see if she can use your help with the evening feed.”

“Yeah, sure. Text her now, so she’ll know we’re almost there.” They skimmed along the coastline of the boggy island, where the mingled scent of wild azaleas and honeysuckle filled the air. Sean paddled hard to pass Quinn and take the lead. “Maybe we can both do the evening feed and then have dinner with Abby like we’ve been doing. If she doesn’t feel like cooking, we could bring some takeout.”

“If it’s all right with you, I’ll stay next door and get ready for tomorrow’s project.” Quinn knew it’d be awkward between him and Abby until they’d had a chance to talk, and he didn’t want Sean to pick up on any angst. “But I’ll see if Abby can use your help.” Quinn dug his phone from the bungee net and sent a text to Abby: Sean wants to help with the evening feed.

A second later, he got an answer:

Sean is welcome to come to the farm anytime, and his help is much appreciated. I won’t mention anything about what’s going on between you and me. If he wants to stay for dinner, I’ll make spaghetti. Make any excuse you want about why you can’t come. I’ll send him home with a plate for you.

He texted back. Excuse made. Thanks for letting Sean come. It means a lot to him—and even more to me. I hope we can talk on Monday.

She didn’t respond at first, but after a while, a terse message pinged through. I’ll be busy till 7:00 p.m. on Monday. I guess you can come then.

Chapter 23

Early Monday morning while Abby was in the barn feeding critters, she heard Quinn’s motorcycle rev up and roar down the drive. The sound reverberated off the barn walls as if the motorcycle was inside the barn instead of on the patio next door. No wonder the animals always yelled whenever Quinn drove up on his annoying, loud Harley.

Too bad his hot bod in those motorcycle leathers—and also outside of them—had convinced her to let him into her bed. Too bad his attentiveness in bed—and also outside of it—had convinced her to let him into her life. Too bad he’d lured her into trusting him before she’d received convincing proof that he wasn’t trustworthy.

She knew from his early-morning text (which she’d ignored) that he was going into NOLA to measure a kitchen for a new custom cabinet project. He planned to come back in the afternoon and was looking forward to seeing her that evening.

But she didn’t care where he went or what he did or when he came back or what he was looking forward to, because she had vowed two days ago to cut him out of her life, and she meant to stick by her resolution. She would hear him out—because she had agreed to in a moment of weakness—but then she would show him the door.

Sean, on the other hand, would be welcome as long as he wanted to keep coming around and helping out at the farm. He loved the