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 may have made the place too accessible, though.” She paused and turned toward him. “The truth is, Regan, I blundered into this without the necessary skill set, and that’s embarrassing. I don’t have the foggiest idea what I’m doing, other than I want to help homeless horses.”
“That’s a good start.” Her honesty touched him. “Don’t be too hard on yourself. If everybody waited until they had the necessary skills before they started something, we’d still be living in caves.”
“What a nice thing to say.” Gratitude shone in her eyes. “Nick said he’d ask you about helping me. Did he?”
“Yeah.”
“Will you? Do you have time?”
He didn’t even have to think about it. “I’ll make the time.”
Her expression brightened. “Thank you, Regan.”
As he gazed into her eyes, the pressure that had constricted his chest for months began to ease. Exercise hadn’t eliminated it, and neither had booze. But granting one heartfelt request from Lily King made him feel lighter than air.
He should be thanking her. He wanted to stick around and see if she had any other miracle cures up her tie-dyed sleeve. An emotion washed through him, one he couldn’t immediately identify. Then he figured it out. For the first time in ages, he was happy.
3
LONG BEFORE THE sun went down, Lily found out that Regan had brown eyes. He’d taken off both hat and sunglasses while he examined the horses. Whenever he’d glanced up to discuss something with her, she’d looked into the velvet depths of those brown eyes and wished like hell he hadn’t been dumped so recently.
Later on, he’d delivered a line guaranteed to make a woman swoon—I’ll make the time. He’d compounded the effect of that by demonstrating that he knew exactly how to fix her broken gate. A man with multiple skills—now that was sexy. She was handy with a paintbrush, but she hadn’t taught herself to use the array of tools Mr. Turner had left her.
She would learn eventually, but watching Regan took away a big chunk of her incentive, especially after he rolled up his sleeves to reveal the play of muscles as he worked. She’d have no trouble being into Regan O’Connelli. As she held the gate steady while he reattached the hinges, she wondered what sort of idiot would cheat on a guy who seemed so special.
Then she chastised herself for making a snap judgment. She didn’t know the whole story, only the version presented by Nick, who was clearly biased in Regan’s favor. There might have been extenuating circumstances. If she kept her distance as she planned, she’d never know.
Maintaining that distance would be more of a challenge than she’d counted on, though. He was definitely a wounded man in need of comfort. She’d sensed it when they’d met, but at that point his shields had been firmly in place.
Apparently his thinking had changed in the intervening hours, because now he was lowering those shields. She heard it in his voice, as brisk efficiency was replaced with mellow goodwill. His body language was more open, too. No more crossed arms or clenched jaw when he talked with her.
But mostly she saw it in his eyes. They flashed with interest now instead of wariness. Fortunately she could resist those flashes of interest. What sucked her in were the brief moments when she glimpsed sadness and pain in those beautiful brown depths.
If a more powerful aphrodisiac existed, she didn’t know what it was. Responding to it was a huge mistake, as she’d long ago discovered to her sorrow. But he was a gorgeous man with a broken heart,
