Riding High

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  “I know.” Lily topped off her bowl with some bib lettuce. “But after you filled me in about Harley’s deal, where his mud hole was competing for space with folks enjoying a backyard barbecue, I think viewing the future living space would be good. The requirements for the pig have to come first.”

  “Because pigs can’t speak for themselves.”

  “Exactly!” She turned to beam at him. “Most of those who bring me horses, pigs or chickens are ready to dump an inconvenient nuisance. They’ve never thought about how they play havoc with the lives of creatures who can’t speak for themselves. Or how they’ve contributed to the problem, which I’ve certainly been guilty of with the horses. I’m determined to fix that.”

  Regan laid down his knife and turned toward her. “I owe you an apology.”

  “For what?” She glanced up at him. “You’ve been nothing but helpful and kind.”

  “Not really. I’ve implied that you don’t know what you’re doing, but at your core, you know exactly what you’re doing. You respect the rights of creatures who can’t speak our language. They may have their own language, but they can’t speak ours—and many of us marginalize them. You don’t, and that’s...that’s wonderful.” He had the strongest urge to kiss her, which would be so inappropriate. Coming on the heels of his little speech, it would seem opportunistic.

  “Wow. Thank you.” She seemed taken aback. “Lately I’ve been thinking I don’t belong in this place.”

  “Don’t ever think that.” He’d watch how he worded his suggestions from now on, because he didn’t want to discourage her from sticking it out. This morning he’d figured she might leave as soon as she grew bored, an assumption based on how his parents might react in this situation. But listening to her now, he wasn’t sure about that.

  “I can’t help it, Regan. I wasn’t qualified to take over, although I didn’t have sense enough to know it at the time. But there was no one else, which helped me make up my mind. Now that I realize what I’m up against, I should probably advertise for someone more experienced to buy it and run it.”

  Damn. In trying to make a point, he’d been too hard on her. “I hope you don’t do that. If I’ve made you insecure about being here, I’m deeply sorry. You may not understand the herd mentality of horses, but that can be learned. What you have, empathy for all animals, is far more important.”

  She swallowed. “That means a lot to me, Regan. I was feeling pretty much like a dweeb an hour ago, but...what you just said helps.”

  “I’m glad.” He could drown in those blue eyes, and he dared not. She’d invited him here for the good of the horses and so she wouldn’t make some terrible mistake that would cause them harm. The emotion he saw in her eyes was related to that, and not to a personal connection between them.

  She gazed up at him, her expression soft. Yeah, he wanted to kiss her.

  Then she broke eye contact, and the moment was gone. She cleared her throat. “Ready to feed Wilbur and Harley?”

  Either he’d misinterpreted the way she’d been looking at him, or she didn’t want to get romantically involved. Either way, he’d do well to cool his jets. He gestured toward the bowl he’d been filling. “Nothing else will fit in here, so I suppose the answer is yes.”

  “Then let’s go.”

  Resolving to avoid any more dreamy-eyed moments, he walked with her out to the mud hole she’d dug behind the ranch house. Once again he marveled at how deep it was. She’d engaged in some serious digging because she’d wanted Wilbur to feel at home, and now Harley could enjoy the results of her labor, too.

  Both pigs lay in happy abandon in the mud, but they perked up the minute Lily and Regan arrived with dinner. Regan set down Harley’s bowl, careful to put it a distance away from Wilbur’s. With squeals of delight, each pig waddled toward his respective dinner and buried his snout in the pile of veggies.

  “They’re cute.” Regan surprised himself by saying that.

  “I know. I’ve already bonded with Wilbur. I have about fifty pictures of him on my phone. I took some of Harley today. They both have the most adorable faces.”

  “I can’t see much of their faces right now, but I like the way they wag their little tails when they’re happy. I also expected it to smell bad out here, but it doesn’t.”

  “I’m pretty fanatical about cleaning up after my animals. These pigs may wallow in the mud, but I don’t want them to stink. That’s gross.”

  Regan hadn’t thought much about it before, but the stalls had been spotless, too. No wonder he’d felt muscles when he’d grabbed her arm. She must be shoveling a good part of the day. “Have you thought of hiring someone to help deal with cleanup?”

  “Nick mentioned that, too. I kind of like not worrying about an employee. If push comes to shove, I might have to get someone, but I don’t want to rush into it.”

  Regan nodded and turned his attention back to the pigs. “They sure are tearing into that food, especially Harley.”

  “From what I’ve read, they’ll eat as much as you give them, and they’ll allow themselves to get overweight. But in other ways they’re very smart. Their IQ is—wait, I don’t need to tell you. You’re a vet. You probably know all that.”

  “I’ve heard they’re intelligent, but that’s about all I know. Aren’t they smarter than most dogs?”

  “They are, and I like that they have brains. I might have to keep these two instead of finding new homes for them.”

  Regan opened his mouth to say that more pigs would be coming because the word was out. She’d have to make sure she didn’t bond with the next one, and the one after that, or she’d be overrun with pigs. Then he closed his mouth again.

  If she wanted to keep twenty pigs, it wasn’t the same as twenty horses. When the fence crew finally arrived, she could decide if she wanted an enclosure for her current potbellied friends and those who were sure to come later.

  “You’re worried that I’m going to load up on pigs the way I loaded up on horses and get myself into more trouble, aren’t you?”

  “Nope.”

  She laughed. “Liar.”

  “I do think you’ll get more pigs, though. The guy who brought Harley heard about you from the people who had Wilbur. I don’t know if there’s a potbellied-pig hotline, but I wouldn’t be surprised.”

  “I’m sure there is. I’ve thought about joining a potbellied-pig chat group, but I haven’t had time. Maybe once I reduce the number of horses, I can hook up with other people who have pigs. These guys fascinate me. They’re so different from your average domestic animal.”

  “That’s for sure.”

  “Some people let them in the house, but I’m not ready to—whoops. There goes Harley after Wilbur’s food.” Lily hurried over and blocked Harley’s progress. He let out an ear-splitting scream of frustration and plowed past her, knocking her smack-dab into the mud hole.

  Without thinking twice, Regan waded in after her.

  “Forget about me!” she wailed. “Pick up Wilbur’s food bowl!”

  “To hell with Wilbur’s food bowl.” He extended his hand. “Grab hold.”

  Harley had shoved Wilbur aside and was eagerly crunching on the remainder of the smaller pig’s food. “I guess it’s too late to get the food, anyway,” she said. “He might try to bite you.”

  “Might? Did you hear him? I don’t think there’s any doubt he’d bite me.” Harley wasn’t the least bit cute anymore, either. Lily, on the other hand, was very cute sitting in the mud, her face and clothes splattered with globs of the stuff. He had a sudden image of her as a teenager in an old T-shirt and jeans with the knees busted out. In fact, she didn’t look much older than sixteen now.

  But the water and mud had begun to soak through her shirt. Very soon she’d go from cute to voluptuous, and that wouldn’t be a good thing for a guy trying to keep his
mind off sex. He wiggled his fingers. “Come on. Let’s get you outta there.”

  With a sigh of resignation, she reached for his hand. “I’m all muddy.”

  “Are you? I hadn’t noticed.”

  “Smart-ass. The sad thing is, your boots and the bottom of your jeans are muddy, too.”

  “That’s the breaks.” She was slippery now, and he had trouble getting a grip on her. “Better give me both hands so I don’t drop you back in the water.”

  He pulled, and she came out with a giant sucking sound, and way faster than he’d expected. Before he could adjust for her trajectory, she’d slammed into his chest. Good thing he’d dug in his heels before starting this maneuver or they would have both gone down. Instead they were plastered together like sheets of wet newspaper. He wrapped his arms around her to steady himself and discovered he was enjoying it far too much.

  “Sorry. Didn’t mean to do that.” She tried to extricate herself.

  Thrown off balance by her movements, he wobbled. “Careful. I don’t have the best of footing. We’re teetering.”

  She stood still. “Yeah, no point in making this any worse than it already is.” She lifted her chin and looked into his eyes. She must have seen something more than simple concern there, because her breath hitched. “How do you suggest we proceed?”

  “With caution.” His pulse rate skyrocketed. So she’d guessed that he wanted to kiss her, mud specks and all. If she didn’t want him to, he’d see it in her expression—a slight frown, a subtle narrowing of her eyes.

  But she wasn’t doing either of those things. Instead her eyes widened and her pupils dilated. “I absolutely agree.” She ran her tongue over her lips, not in a seductive way, but quickly, as if checking for mud in case he decided to follow through.

  “About what?” He’d lost track of the conversation. All his attention was focused on her plump lips, which were shiny from her tongue.

  “Caution. Proceeding with it.”

  “You want to proceed?”

  “I do.” Her eyes darkened to midnight blue and her gentle sigh was filled to the brim with surrender as her arms slid around his neck, depositing mud along the way.

  As if he gave a damn. His body hummed with anticipation. “Me, too.” Slowly he lowered his head and closed his eyes.

  “Mistake, though.”

  He hovered near her mouth, hardly daring to breathe. Had she changed her mind at the last minute? “Why?”

  “Tell you later.” She brought his head down and made the connection.

  And it was as electric as he’d imagined. His blood fizzed as it raced through his body and eventually settled in his groin. Her lips fit perfectly against his from the first moment of contact. It seemed his mouth had been created for kissing Lily, and vice versa.

  He tried a different angle, just to test that theory. Still perfect, still high voltage. Since they were standing in water, it was a wonder they didn’t short out. He couldn’t speak for her, but he’d bet he was glowing. His skin was hot enough to send off sparks.

  She moaned and pressed her body closer. She felt amazing in his arms—soft, wet and slippery. He’d never imagined doing it in the mud, but suddenly that seemed like the best idea in the world.

  Then she snorted. Odd. Not the reaction he would have expected considering where this seemed to be heading.

  He lifted his head and gazed into her flushed face. “Did you just laugh?”

  She regarded him with passion-filled eyes. “That wasn’t me.”

  “Then who—”

  The snort came again as something bumped the back of his knees. A heavy splash sent water up the back of his legs.

  She might not have been laughing before, but she was now. “Um, we have company.”

  Although it didn’t matter which pig had interrupted the moment, Regan had his money on Harley. Whichever one had decided to take an after-dinner mud bath, they’d ruined what had been a very promising kiss. Well, except for Lily’s comment that it was a mistake.

  Regan had hoped to move right past that comment, but he had a feeling she’d want to explain it more fully now that they weren’t in a lip-lock. He knew one thing for sure, though. He was no longer a fan of those pigs.

  5

  LILY AND REGAN took off their muddy boots on the stoop outside the back door, which led directly into the kitchen. Once they were both inside, she grabbed some paper towels so they could clean off their hands. “Stay there for a sec.” She finished wiping her hands. “I’ll be right back with a robe for you.”

  She left the kitchen, hurried away from him through the small dining room and down a short hallway to the master bedroom and bath. She didn’t want to discuss their kiss until they’d dealt with the mud.

  She needed to tell him why the kiss had been a mistake, and therein lay her dilemma. She’d promised Nick she wouldn’t mention Regan’s breakup. Yet the breakup was at the heart of why she and Regan shouldn’t become involved.

  A brief period of insanity in a mud hole didn’t have to turn into a full-blown disaster if she played this right. She’d lost focus when she’d inadvertently ended up in his arms, but she could make that momentary slip right. To fix it permanently, though, she had to explain how she felt about catching a guy on the rebound. That meant unearthing the truth about his situation...somehow, without involving Nick in any way.

  Snatching her white terry robe from the hook on the back of her bathroom door, she returned to the kitchen. “This won’t fit very well,” she said as she handed him the robe, “but at least it’s not pink.”

  He took it gingerly, being careful not to let it brush up against his muddy clothes. “I’m afraid I’ll bust out your shoulder seams.”

  “It’s roomier than it looks. And it’s all I have for you to wear while I wash and dry your stuff. Just try it. I think you’ll be surprised.”

  The corner of his mouth quirked up. “This whole evening has been one big surprise. I can’t wait to see what happens next.”

  She decided not to touch that line. “The guest room is through the living room and down the hall on your right. There’s a bathroom down there, too, and it’s stocked with towels and stuff.”

  “Because your mom insisted.”

  “Yep. Turns out you’re my first guest.”

  “I’m honored.” He gave her an assessing glance. “Listen, are we going to talk about...”

  “Sure. Absolutely. But let’s get cleaned up, first. The lasagna is almost done.”

  “I figured. It smells great.”

  “I’ll meet you back here in a little while. You should find everything you need. My mom’s thorough about such things.”

  He nodded. “I’ll be fine. See you in a few.” Dangling the robe several inches in front of his body, he left the kitchen.

  She retreated to her own bathroom. Moments later she stood under a hot shower and evaluated her predicament. She’d brought it on herself, every bit of it. Her decision to buy Peaceful Kingdom had caused her to add more horses, two pigs and nine chickens. And she’d let them all roam at will. As if she hadn’t created a big enough mess, she’d begged Regan to spend the next couple of nights in her house.

  She’d had some room to maneuver...until she’d kissed him. She couldn’t even claim that was his fault. He’d given her every opportunity to back out, but once she’d been chest to chest with all that glorious male beauty, she hadn’t been able to resist him.

  She could have stopped him at the very last minute, but what had she done? Pulled his head down and kissed the living daylights out of him, that’s what. She was not what anyone would call a clutch player.

  So now she had to clean up this fuster-cluck. Sending him home wasn’t a solution, because sure as the world, she’d have an emergency and he’d end up back here, anyway. She was sitting on a
keg of dynamite in more ways than one. Even her pigs weren’t behaving themselves. Until she could get someone to build some sturdy fences, she needed Regan around.

  That would work out just ducky if she could keep her hands to herself. He wasn’t a Don Juan type who was plotting a seduction. If she set the boundaries, he’d abide by them. But she’d kissed him as if boundaries meant nothing. How to explain why she didn’t want to continue with an activity she’d so obviously enjoyed?

  Only one strategy occurred to her. If she could loosen his tongue so that he’d tell her about the breakup, she could explain why she chose to stay away from rebound relationships. She could say she’d sensed he might be hurting but hadn’t wanted to pry. He might buy that.

  It wasn’t the greatest plan in the world, but she couldn’t think of anything better. She had both beer and wine chilling in the refrigerator. The trick would be getting him to drink it while she only sipped.

  Her bathroom routine took longer than she would have liked, but she’d had to wash her hair, and that meant doing something with it afterward. Blowing it dry would take forever, so she gathered it into a loose, damp arrangement on top of her head.

  Leaving makeup off was a no-brainer. She wasn’t trying to be more alluring, for crying out loud. Some old underwear might keep her from getting frisky.

  Oh, hell, whom was she kidding? She’d never been the type to fuss with her appearance. She was strictly WYSIWYG—What You See Is What You Get. But if she didn’t look sexy, that might make a difference to Regan. She put on her most raggedy sweatpants and a faded sweatshirt from Berkeley.

  One glance in the mirror convinced her she’d done an awesome job. Only a desperate man would want to hit that. Of course, if Regan had gone without for six months, he might be on the desperate side. That also should be a warning to stay clear. He might not be hot for her, specifically. Maybe any reasonably good-looking woman would do.

  After shoving her feet into some ratty slippers that once had been blue but had faded to a mottled gray, she padded into the aromatic kitchen with her armload of muddy clothes. Regan was nowhere in sight, so she carried her bundle into the laundry room located right off the kitchen and loaded the filthy clothes and some soap into the washing machine. Technically they shouldn’t all be washed together, but mud was a game changer, in her opinion. Once he arrived with his clothes, they’d do a load of mud laundry and call it good.