Page 21 of The Cajun Doctor

“Huh? You mean, like a pit bull or something.”

“Not necessarily. Dogs bark and intimidate intruders. Even little ones can be a deterrent.”

“I’ve never had a dog. My parents got divorced when I was a kid, and it never worked out with our living arrangements. And Nick is allergic to pet dander.”

“See. Even better.”

“I don’t know. I wouldn’t know the first thing about finding a guard dog.”

“I have a friend with a pet rescue farm outside the city, up near Charmaine and Rusty’s ranch. Mick Andreas. C’mon. I’ll go with you.”

“Now?” She wasn’t sure she was ready to make a decision, right now.

“Sure. Mick is a client, as well as a friend. I have some papers to deliver to him. C’mon. It’ll be fun. We can stop at my place along the way and pick up my girls. They love going out to Mick’s place. Last time, they talked me into adopting a chicken, Miss Cluck-Cluck.”

She raised her brows, not sure if he was serious or not.

“The truth,” he said, making the sign of the cross over his chest. “We had fresh eggs every morning until Tante Lulu decided Miss Cluck-Cluck would make a good Sunday dinner.”

Now, she knew he was kidding.

“Actually, the neighbors were starting to complain.”

Maybe.

Thus, it was that by seven p.m. that evening, Samantha was the proud (stunned would be a better word) mommy to:

— Axel, an older German Shepherd who had been abused, resulting in a limp, half an ear gone, and bald spots.

— a Savannah cat with a mean attitude named Madeline who had the size and appearance of a small cheetah, including the typical black spots against a cinnamon background. The exotic animal had already turned up her nose at cat food, but apparently leftover fresh salmon at twenty dollars a pound would suffice. (Good thing her family owned a chain of supermarkets.)

— a cockatoo that could speak three languages.

— the two peacocks out in her backyard, here only for temporary fostering, but they kept pooping on the patio and pecking at the glass windows of the atrium, wanting to come inside. Samantha was pretty sure the fostering was only going to last until tomorrow, once her neighbors heard the noise or got a whiff of the turds. The only reason she’d taken them at all was because they had been returned five times to the rescue farm so far, and there was a hint that they might have to be “put down.”

And then the phone rang.

It was Nick. On her new private number! “Hey, sweetheart,” he said.

“Are you kidding me? Sweetheart?”

“Now, sweetheart.”

“What do you want?”

“I just wanted to say, let’s get together. Just you and me. No lawyers. What do you say?”

Not a chance! She was about to end the call without saying anything more . . . it was best not to engage in any interaction with the creep . . . but then Nick asked, “What’s that noise in the background?”

There was the screeching noise of the peacocks, the barking of the dog, the hissing of the cat, and the bird squawking, “Merde! Merde! Merde!”

“It’s my bodyguards,” she replied. With inordinate pleasure!

Chapter Five

I’ll have my mint julep out on the verandah, Scarlett . . .

Daniel was driving out to the far end of Terrebonne Parish where he was meeting his brother Aaron. He kept checking his GPS to make sure he followed the directions his brother had given him. Aaron wanted him to see a property he was considering buying.