Riding High. Vicki Lewis Thompson
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be lining up outside her gate with woeful expressions in their beautiful big eyes. The word was spreading, and in tough economic times, many people couldn’t afford to keep the horse they’d bought in a burst of optimism. That was the story most everyone had given her when they’d arrived at her gate.
Her next admission was so hard to make. “Nick, I don’t know how to train a horse.”
“That’s no problem. You’re a smart person. I’ll talk to Regan and see if he can help you. I’ll help you, too, when I can, but Regan has a little more free time than I do. He’ll probably agree. He’s a good guy.”
She latched on to this new topic with relief. “Speaking of Regan, what’s his deal, Nick?”
He hesitated. “What do you mean?”
“You don’t have to tell me if you shouldn’t, but I get the impression something bad happened to him recently. He seems...wounded.”
“What made you think that?”
“He didn’t take off his shades.”
“He examined all the horses with his sunglasses on? That doesn’t sound like Regan. He’s usually super professional.”
“He didn’t examine the horses. He’s coming back tonight when they’re all in the barn.” As she said it, she realized that expecting him to make a second trip really was ridiculous. Both Regan and Nick were right. She had too many horses and no control of them. That had to change.
“So what did he do while he was out there, if he didn’t examine the horses?”
“Helped carry the pig crate in here, and then we talked for a little while. That’s when he mentioned that I might be headed down the wrong road here at Peaceful Kingdom.” She gazed at the porch rail Sally was currently chewing on. Then she walked over and gave the mare a swat on the rump. Sally barely flinched and kept chewing. “So am I right? Is Regan hiding behind those shades?”
“I never thought about it before. He does wear them a lot. Most of us are fine with using our hats to shade our eyes. Sunglasses just get in the way.”
“He had the hat on, too. Double protection. I just thought, if he’s going to be advising me, I should know if there are certain subjects to avoid. I don’t want to stumble over a psychological land mine.” That was absolutely true. Regan was beginning to look like her savior, and she didn’t want to tick him off accidentally. She’d already created a problem for herself with the horses. She couldn’t afford to make the situation worse by alienating someone who could help.
Nick was silent for a moment. “I suppose it might be good for you to know. Everyone at the ranch does. But you can’t tell him I told you.”
“I won’t.”
“Okay, last Christmas Eve, he found his fiancée with his best friend.”
Lily’s chest tightened. “In bed?”
“Yeah.”
“Damn.” Now she wished she hadn’t been right about Regan’s vulnerability. “No wonder he’s wearing shades. I would, too. I’ve never had a fiancé, but I can imagine that would feel pretty awful, especially if it was with your best friend.”
“Don’t let on that you know, although maybe it is better that you do know. We all feel protective of him. He’ll be fine, but I don’t think he’s totally over it yet.”
“How could he be? Poor thing. It’s only been six months.” That meant he was off-limits to her, though. She had no interest in being some gorgeous guy’s rebound girl, even if she did want to soothe his wounded heart. She’d tried that once and it hadn’t turned out well. The rebound girl served a purpose, she’d discovered, but once that purpose was gone, so was the guy, which left the girl feeling used. “Anyway, thanks for filling me in.”
“You bet. Gotta go. He just walked into the office.”
“Okay. ’Bye.” She disconnected the call. What a shame about the fiancée and the best friend. Good to know, she supposed, and she owed Nick big-time for telling her. But her Johnny Depp fantasy had officially bitten the dust.
* * *
TECHNICALLY, REGAN SHOULD be frustrated as hell with the situation in Lily’s pink-and-turquoise barn. The quarters were cramped and the horses tested him continually. He’d countered every attempt to gain control with a stern word and a flick of the lead rope. So far that had kept any misbehaving animals in line.
But he’d had to remain vigilant. He should hate being here in this chaotic environment, except that it also contained Lily, who watched his every move. She asked excellent questions and took detailed notes on her phone, which he found endearing.
Earlier today he’d talked with Nick, who’d clarified the sanctuary-versus-rescue mix-up. Regan hadn’t been clear on the terms until then, either, but now he understood a little better how Lily had landed in this mess. Nick had wanted to know if Regan could spare some time to help her. Damn straight. Catching a glimpse of her bright hair and ready smile made his heart lift. He wouldn’t mind coming out here on a regular basis. It would be no sacrifice at all.
At last they were done, and she turned to him. “Should I keep them inside tonight so they’ll start getting used to the idea?”
“It’s pretty crowded. How about if we split them up and lead a few into the corral, instead?”
“That’s a good plan, except the gate’s broken. Mr. Turner told me he’d meant to fix it, but his arthritis was so bad he never did.”
“How broken is it?”
“It’s coming off the hinges. I decided not to worry about the corral, so I don’t know if it could be easily fixed or whether I need a whole new gate.”
“Let’s leave them in here for now and take a look.”
She nodded. “Sounds like a plan.”
As he walked with her toward the corral, he noticed that the orange-red glow of the sunset matched the color of her hair. Nice. But the setting sun also brought out the unusual colors of the ranch buildings, prompting him to ask the question that had been nagging him for hours. “Why did you paint the buildings such...unusual colors?” He was proud of himself for substituting unusual for god-awful.
“Several reasons. First of all, these colors make me happy. I also like doing the unexpected thing to keep me from being bored. Nobody in this area has a pink-and-turquoise barn or an orange-and-green ranch house.”
“That would be true.”
“Besides that, I wanted to make sure people could find the place, and you have to admit that the colors make it stand out.”
“Also true.”
“But you don’t care for them.”
He smiled to soften his response. “No, not really.”
“I’m not surprised.” She said it in a conversational tone, as if his answer hadn’t fazed her in the least. Apparently she’d been expecting him to turn thumbs down.
Damn, now he wanted to know why. Did she think he was too boring to appreciate her creativity? Had he come across as someone with no imagination who always did what others expected? That was a stodgy image he wasn’t crazy about, but it might be accurate.
In any case, he didn’t have to worry about hurting her feelings. Obviously she didn’t need his approval to feel good about her choice of paint, and she’d accepted his comment without taking it personally.
Her attitude made him look at the colors differently. Why shouldn’t she be surrounded by colors that made her happy? It was her place, after all, and a little paint wasn’t going to hurt anything. If it shook people out of a rut—stodgy people like him, for example—that could be a good thing. And she was right about making the place easy to find.
“I