Riding High

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.”

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