Читать книгу Riding High - Vicki Thompson Lewis - Страница 13

4

REGAN GULPED. “Excuse me?” His heart galloped out of control. Surely she hadn’t suggested what he thought she had. He suddenly had trouble breathing.

Lily, she of the sunset-red hair and sky-blue eyes, seemed completely calm, though. “To be clear, that wasn’t a proposition.”

“Of course it wasn’t. We barely know each other. I didn’t think that at all.” The hell he hadn’t. Stupid of him, but he’d immediately created a cozy scenario for the two of them. Apparently his subconscious had been building a whole fantasy on her I can’t help saying yes comment.

“The ranch house has a guest room. My mom insisted I should have one in case any of my friends from Berkeley show up. I realize this is a terrible imposition, but after Rex’s little stunt, I’m worried about being alone here.”

That was mostly his fault. “It’s highly unlikely you’ll have a problem.” But what if she did? What if he drove away from here and something happened? What if she tried to break up a fight and got hurt in the process? He’d never forgive himself.

“I may be overreacting, but I’ve been jerked out of my blissful ignorance and there’s no going back to it. I now understand the potential danger here. You know horses, and you’re a vet who could deal with an injury if we were unlucky enough to have one. I’d consider it a huge favor if you’d do this.”

He struggled to get his bearings. “Well, I—”

“This is spur of the moment, so if you’re willing to stay, you might want to go home and get some things. Where are you living, by the way? I never thought to ask.”

“At the Last Chance. Sarah gave me a room there in January, and I haven’t decided whether to buy property, so I’m still at the ranch.” He worked hard to seem as cool as she was about this discussion. She needed him to be there in case she had a problem with the horses. After the picture he’d painted, he couldn’t blame her. Because he’d contributed to her nervousness, he should agree to her plan. It was the gentlemanly thing to do.

Unfortunately, the thought of spending the night in her house continued to suggest ungentlemanly ideas. That didn’t mean he would act on them, though. He might have considered a relationship down the road, but getting sexually involved with her when they’d met only this morning would be insane. He’d never operated that way, and he wouldn’t start now.

That didn’t take into account how she operated, however. He considered the psychedelic colors of the buildings and her belief in letting all creatures run free. That could add up to a woman who didn’t have rigid rules of behavior when it came to sex. But apparently he did. Could he change those rules given the right circumstances? Yes.

“I can feed the pigs and the chickens if you want to head back to the ranch and pick up a few things. That’s if you’re even willing to consider doing this.”

“So it would ease your mind if I did?” Dumb question. He knew it would because she’d already said so. And he knew his answer was yes.

He was stalling because he hadn’t decided whether to drive back to the ranch for a change of clothes and a shaving kit. That could be problematic if he ran into someone who asked questions. No one kept close track of him there, so if he didn’t show up, they might assume he was out on a call that lasted into the night. That would be sort of true. He’d like to keep their arrangement on the down-low for now.

“It would greatly ease my mind.” She looked up at him. “Please say you’ll stay. I’m a decent hostess.”

His breath caught. She was pleading with him to do this because she was frightened, not because she wanted him in her bed. Thoughts of sex were far from her mind, and they should be far from his, too. They would be. He’d stay for a couple of nights and guarantee her a peaceful weekend free of worries about her horses.

Maybe in a few weeks the situation would resolve itself and he could ask her out. But only a jerk would take advantage of a woman’s fears—fears he’d helped foster. He was better than that.

“I’ll stay,” he said. “I don’t need to go back to the ranch for anything. If you have a spare toothbrush, I can manage.” And if he didn’t go back to the ranch, he wouldn’t be tempted to grab the box of condoms that he’d discovered in the upstairs bathroom. Even more reason to stay right here and be virtuous as hell.

“Thank you, Regan. You’re a good guy.”

He wasn’t so sure about that, but he would do his damnedest to be a good guy for the next forty-eight hours. “Ready to feed the pigs and chickens?”

“Absolutely!” Her bright smile flashed.

Yeah, he could do this. The relief in her smile was all the reward he needed. If he hadn’t believed every word of warning he’d spoken, he’d feel guilty about scaring her. But she needed to understand what she was up against. Chances were nothing would happen this weekend, but if it did, he’d be here to help.

Feeding the chickens, it turned out, was easy. He felt like Old MacDonald as he scattered seed over the ground. The pigs were a lot more work. First he and Lily had to chop up an ungodly amount of fresh vegetables. They stood side by side tossing cut-up veggies into two large bowls about the size needed for a batch of cookie dough. He’d never expected to have fun preparing a meal for pigs. Once again his happiness meter registered somewhere near the top of the scale.

He threw a handful of carrot chunks into the bowl. “I thought they ate kitchen scraps.”

“Most people think so, but they won’t get a balanced diet that way.” Lily chopped with rhythmic precision as she talked. “I found all kinds of information online, and everyone says to feed vegetables loaded with vitamins if you want a happy, healthy pig. And you’re not supposed to overfeed them or they’ll get fat. Harley looks a little overweight to me. What do you think?”

“I didn’t spend any time studying pigs, so I’m no expert.” Regan started in on a head of cabbage. “But he’s definitely chunkier than Wilbur.”

“And from what I’ve researched, Wilbur’s about right. I’ll have to make sure Harley doesn’t try to steal any of Wilbur’s food.”

Regan finished with the cabbage and moved on to a sack of potatoes. “What if someone wants to adopt these guys? How will you know they’ll feed them right?”

“Excellent question. I’ve thought about it a lot today. I’ve considered having the adopters sign an agreement that they’ll follow the guidelines I give them and read the information on keeping pigs as pets. But what if they don’t? How will I know?”

“You won’t, which is why they might need to provide references.”

“I think so, too. That’s still no guarantee, because they can give me names of people who will say whatever they’re supposed to, but it makes the process more complicated. People who want to adopt a pig on impulse won’t want to go through all that.”

Regan picked up a bunch of golden beets. “At least these are adult pigs, so nobody can kid themselves about the amount of room they’ll need.”

“I’ve toyed with the idea of a home visit before I let the pig go.”

“It will take lots of extra time to do that.”

“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.”