Elijah reared, eyes rolling, ears pinned back. Abby grabbed a stout stick and rushed to defend her aunt’s traumatized donkey. “Stop! You’re scaring him.”
Bawling in terror, Elijah veered around the man’s waving arms and leaped over the crumpled wire fence. Georgia—all thirty pounds of short, snarling protection—stood between Abby and the crazy neighbor.
This mean man would not be getting any of the secret-family-recipe pound cake.
Holding the stick out like a sword, Abby snatched Georgia up one-handed and held her close. While she and the dog both trembled with reaction, Abby glared at her aunt’s new neighbor. “What is wrong with you? You scared that poor donkey half to death.”
The stupid neanderthal crossed his muscled arms in front of his wide chest. “Me? You’re asking what’s wrong with me? That big moose knocked me down!”
“Moose? Elijah is just a baby! He would never—”
“He stole my granola bar!”
“He stole…what?”
The man glanced at her stick. Like a warrior calculating his advantage in an armed conflict, he advanced, his expression fierce and his blue eyes so wild she could see the whites all around. “Your baby—who is the size of a moose, by the way—came onto my property, knocked me down, bit me on the ass, and stole a granola bar from my back pocket.”
Georgia trembled in Abby’s arms and growled in promised retribution should the man come close enough for her to reach.
Abby clutched the dog tighter. “I’m sorry if he hurt you. But you didn’t have to scare him.”
“Your ass is fine. Mine’s the one that’s been wounded.” He lunged forward and wrenched the stick from her hand, then tossed it aside, ignoring Georgia’s escalating growl. “And yet you’re planning to attack me with a stick?”
A hysterical giggle tickled the back of Abby’s throat. She bit her lips and patted Georgia. Laughing in the face of an animal-hating psychopath—maybe not the best move. “Yes, you’re right. I’m sorry. I hope your…” She smothered an irreverent snort. “I hope your ass will recover.”
His lips twitched, a quickly stifled smile. “I guess it will, eventually.” He let the smile have its way, and it transformed his face from surly to sexy. Straight white teeth and deep blue eyes contrasted with deeply tanned skin. His sun-bleached brown hair hadn’t been combed this morning; he looked like a man who’d just tumbled out of bed and wouldn’t mind getting right back in, given sufficient motivation.
Not that she was interested in providing any such motivation. Hadn’t she learned her lesson? Hadn’t losing everything—her job, her self-respect, and the child she’d come to love—hadn’t that experience taught her anything?
It most certainly had. She was done with men. Done.
He crossed unfairly muscular arms over unfairly toned abs. “Enjoying the view?”
Her face heated. “Well enough.” She couldn’t deny that she’d been staring. But her appreciation of his well-developed form was purely academic.
“Only fair, I guess.” He swept an appreciative glance from her bare feet to her heated cheeks. His blue eyes shining with humor, he trapped her gaze in his. “I bought this place for the view, but I didn’t know until recently what a bargain I was getting.”
“Oh?” She glanced down at her dirt-smeared attire, a getup not likely to inspire such a flattering comment. Had he seen her yesterday with her robe gaping open? Or worse… Had he seen her skinny-dipping last night?
Nah. It would be impossible to see through that thick hedge. As usual, Abby was letting her anxiety take over her mind and churn out scenarios of disaster. Disasterizing, Reva called Abby’s newfound tendency to imagine the worst possible outcome and then dwell on it.
Georgia wiggled to get down, and Abby obliged. The dog toddled over and sniffed the guy’s boots, then the hem of his jeans. Tail wagging, she returned to Abby and sat.
“Oh.” Georgia had introduced herself; Abby should do the same. Without Georgia in her arms, Abby became uncomfortably aware of her unbound breasts thinly covered by the sloppy tank top, but etiquette demanded that she step forward and offer her hand. “I’m Abby. This is my aunt’s place, but I’m in charge for the summer while she attends a summer internship to—”
Abby cut herself off. She was babbling, giving too much information that he didn’t care to hear. Another symptom of the overwhelming anxiety that had plagued her after one poor decision had derailed her entire life.
She tried again to act more like a normal person and less like a semihysterical nincompoop. “Welcome to the neighborhood.”
He took her hand and smiled into her eyes. “I’m Quinn. Thanks for the welcome, unconventional as it was.”
His touch ignited something inside her: a tiny flame she thought had been extinguished. A flame that needed to stay extinguished until she gained some control over her own life. She withdrew her hand. “I’d better get back.”
She hobbled barefoot over the stick-covered ground toward the crumpled fence. Without the flood of adrenaline that had propelled her here, the skinned-up soles of her bare feet flinched at every step.
His hand at her elbow offered support. “Are you okay?”
She smiled up at him. “Yep, yep, yep. I always run around barefoot in briars. You should see the soles of my feet. Tough as shoe leather.” Her mind cringed at her runaway mouth. Shut up. Shut. Up.
He escorted her to the fence and helped her step over. Georgia slipped through a gap underneath.
“I’m very sorry that Elijah trespassed onto your property and knocked you down. I owe you a granola bar.”
He grinned. “Chocolate chip, please.”
From their respective sides of the fence, Abby stretched the crumpled wire while Quinn straightened the bent metal posts. Working together, they reattached a few fence clips, but most had been lost to the dirt. “This should hold for now,” she said. “I’ll fix it for real later.”
“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 would catch one of those birds and fill his shrinking belly. He made that promise to his growling stomach. Then he closed his eyes and brought his energy down low so the man wouldn’t sense him lying in wait for a chance to drink, and maybe also to eat.
Every evening, Wolf drank from the green pool and caught frogs to eat. The bitter taste of frog skin turned his saliva to foam, but the meat and bones and entrails tasted no different than that of a rabbit or rat or mouse. Wolf hardly remembered the taste of the crunchy kibble he had eaten at home.
The wind shifted, a warm breeze blowing along the ground. Wolf lifted his nose and caught the scent of rabbits behind the fence. He had searched for a way in, but failed. He could have snagged a small goat this morning while the fence was down. But the people would have seen him, and humans had strange attitudes about which animals were okay to eat and which were off-limits.
Safety lay in hunting only at night when people hid behind solid walls and dark windows. Light windows meant people might still venture outside. Dark windows meant they would stay inside until morning. Wolf’s hungry stomach made it hard to wait for safety, but he knew he must.
By the time the man went inside, the birds had flown into a tall tree. Wolf crawled low along the hedge, ran to the green pool to satisfy his thirst with a few quick laps, then streaked across the road to his hiding place in the cat’s-claw forest. In the cool, green shade, he sprawled on his side, closed his eyes, and waited for sleep to silence his hunger. Tonight, when the sun slipped over the horizon, he would hunt.
Chapter 5
That evening, with chores done, Reva’s text responded to, and a pound cake baked, Abby assembled her peace offerings in an old wicker basket that she’d found stashed among others above her aunt’s kitchen cabinets. A bottle of sparkling cider paired with two cheap wineglasses from Dollar Tree; cheese, olives, and fancy crackers; the pound cake wrapped in a new dish towel and tied with twine; and as promised, a chocolate-chip granola bar.
Part of her hoped he wouldn’t be home and she’d be able to leave the basket outside his door. She had included a handwritten note on Bayside Barn stationery that she found in her aunt’s rolltop desk:
To Quinn,
Please accept my attempt at a more conventional welcome to the neighborhood than the one you received this morning.
Abby Curtis
P.S. Sorry about my ass biting yours.
The nagging, familiar voice of social anxiety whispered, reminding her of his cryptic comment about the view that made her suspect he’d seen more of her skin than he should have.
Instead of letting worry have its way, she went into the laundry room and tossed a scrap of twine into the crate for the new kitten to play with. This time, the kitten didn’t flee for cover. Maybe it was beginning to realize that Abby was trying to help. She had doctored the road rash with Betadine and a thin film of Neosporin, and already it was healing up nicely.
In the kitchen, she gave Max the tabby a cat treat. “Please stay off the kitchen counter while I’m gone.”
Sure thing, she imagined Max saying, though his slant-eyed smirk told her she shouldn’t believe him. So much for all the things Reva had tried to teach her about animal communication. If all males were liars, why bother?
Abby glanced at her reflection in the sliding glass doors. Dressed in a leaf-print dress that brought out the green flecks in her hazel eyes, she looked well enough. But she hoped she hadn’t overdone it by curling her hair and wearing mascara and clear lip gloss.
She wasn’t interested in Quinn—she knew better by now than to be lured in by a pretty face and a rock-hard body—but she didn’t want him to judge her unfavorably, either. She didn’t want to look like a slob, but she also didn’t want to look as if she’d tried too hard. Abby wished she could absorb a little of her aunt’s complete disregard for what other people thought of her.
Abby had been that way herself once, but after trusting completely and then losing everything that mattered, she couldn’t find her way back. Her recent tendency to worry about everything insisted that she doubt herself.
Georgia barked.
“Okay.” Abby picked up the basket and a
tiny wisp of courage. “I’m coming.”
The setting sun glowed orange over the bay when she and Georgia walked along the hedge and through the iron gates of Bayside Barn. Abby propped one side of the gate open, then she and Georgia crossed the easement to the neighbor’s property. The dilapidated house was dark, so they went around back, and Abby tapped on the sliding glass door of the pool house, where the glow of interior lighting indicated a human presence.
Charcoal-gray curtains had been pushed aside. The ceiling fan’s globe light revealed brand-new furnishings. A gray couch and rug and overstuffed armchair, a distressed barn-wood coffee table and end tables, a flat-screen TV mounted on the wall across from the couch. No throw pillows, no lamps, no pictures on the walls.
Georgia whined and looked back toward the farm.
“No. We’re doing this.”
The new neighbor walked into the room shirtless, wearing jeans slung low on his hips and headphones in his ears. The headphones’ yellow cord trailed down his toned chest and washboard abs, then twined around his waist and disappeared into his back pocket.
“Lord above, Georgia. Would you look at that?”
Unimpressed, Georgia whined and pawed Abby’s leg.
“No, I said. No.”
Realizing that he must not have heard the knock, Abby waved. But he kept going to the small kitchen and opened the fridge. She tapped on the glass door again. He took out a beer and turned, then saw her. His eyes opened wide. He set the beer aside, pulled out his headphones, and opened the sliding glass door. “Hey. Is there a goat in my pool or something?”
Georgia ran inside and leaped onto a chair.
“Georgia, no.” Abby felt a blush spread up her neck and into her cheeks. “You weren’t invited.”
“It’s fine.” He stepped away from the door. “Come on in.”
Abby handed over the basket. “This is a housewarming/apology basket.” She couldn’t help but notice the hoof-shaped bruises on his lower back. “I’m sorry Elijah hurt you. I’m sure he didn’t mean to, but he can’t resist sweet-tasting treats.” Out of breath with anxiety, she powered through her prepared greeting. “I hope we can pretend this morning never happened and start over again.”
Warm Nights in Magnolia Bay Page 5
