Riding High Read online

  Saddle up!

  There ain’t a rider that can’t be thrown. And large-animal veterinarian Regan O’Connelli was thrown hard when he discovered his fiancée with his best friend. Now he’s starting his life over at the Last Chance Ranch, run by the tightly knit Chance clan. But damned if his libido hasn’t perked up over the spirited redhead who looks a lot like trouble….

  Lily King is the queen of anti-structure. Turns out, that makes running a horse sanctuary a challenge. Regan’s help is exactly what Lily needs—not to mention the seriously sexy sparks that are flying between them. Now she just has to convince this fallen cowboy to dust himself off and get back in the saddle…and into her bed!

  What could be hotter than a cowboy in June?

  How about a cowboy in July, August,

  and under the mistletoe, too!

  New York Times bestselling author Vicki Lewis Thompson is back in the Harlequin Blaze lineup for 2014,

  and this year she’s offering her readers even more….

  Sons of Chance

  Chance isn’t just the last name of these rugged Wyoming cowboys—it’s their motto, too!

  Saddle up with

  #799 RIDING HIGH

  (June)

  #803 RIDING HARD

  (July)

  #807 RIDING HOME

  (August)

  And the sexy conclusion to the Sons of Chance series,

  #823 A LAST CHANCE CHRISTMAS

  (December)

  Take a chance…on a Chance!

  Dear Reader,

  I support animal rescue organizations no matter what species they’re rescuing. Although my favorite shelter these days is The Hermitage No-Kill Cat Shelter in Tucson, I’ve also volunteered at Best Friends Animal Sanctuary in Kanab, Utah, where they take in almost any creature, including potbellied pigs!

  I had an up close and personal experience with these adorable creatures, and yes, one of them was named Harley. The real Harley is way better behaved than the fictional one I created for this story, but how else was I going to arrange that first kiss between Regan and Lily without a misbehaving pig? And you know there will be lots of kissing and…other stuff, because we’re starting a whole new summer of the Sons of Chance!

  I’ve had such fun with this series, and apparently, so have you, so here we go again! Take one equine veterinarian who craves order, and one genius-level woman determined to save every animal on the planet and let them do whatever they choose, and you have a beautiful mess. Throw in the Chance family, who can be helpful or meddlesome, depending on the circumstances, and you have Riding High. I can’t wait for you to read it! You’re gonna love those pigs.

  Charitably yours,

  Vicki

  VICKI LEWIS

  THOMPSON

  Riding High

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  New York Times bestselling author Vicki Lewis Thompson’s love affair with cowboys started with the Lone Ranger, continued through Maverick and took a turn south of the border with Zorro. She views cowboys as the Western version of knights in shining armor—rugged men who value honor, honesty and hard work. Fortunately for her, she lives in the Arizona desert, where broad-shouldered, lean-hipped cowboys abound. Blessed with such an abundance of inspiration, she only hopes that she can do them justice. Visit her website, www.vickilewisthompson.com.

  Books by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  HARLEQUIN BLAZE

  544—WANTED!+

  550—AMBUSHED!+

  556—CLAIMED!+

  618—SHOULD’VE BEEN A COWBOY+

  624—COWBOY UP+

  630—COWBOYS LIKE US+

  651—MERRY CHRISTMAS, BABY +

  “It’s Christmas, Cowboy!”

  687—LONG ROAD HOME+

  693—LEAD ME HOME+

  699—FEELS LIKE HOME+

  751—I CROSS MY HEART+

  755—WILD AT HEART+

  759—THE HEART WON’T LIE+

  775—COWBOYS & ANGELS+

  Sons of Chance

  To Mary Jo LaBeff, friend and colleague. Your feature article about an equine rescue organization near Tucson inspired me to write Lily’s story. Thank you for that and dozens of great conversations about the writing life!

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Excerpt

  Prologue

  June 10, 1990, Last Chance Ranch, from the diary of Eleanor Chance

  THANKS TO MY grandson Nicholas, we have another orphaned puppy ensconced in the boys’ room upstairs. Nicky calls him Hercules, and he’s supposed to stay in his box because he’s not housetrained yet. The whining has stopped, so it’s a safe bet the little bugger’s in Nicky’s bed. Mark my words, we’ll be washing sheets in the morning.

  I know it’s foolish to imagine what profession a child will take up as an adult, but I’m convinced that Nicky is going to be a vet. Yes, I realize he’s only eight and boys his age change their minds on a regular basis. One day they want to be a firefighter, and the next they’d rather drive an eighteen-wheeler, or maybe fly a jet.

  Nicky’s different. He brings home enough strays to start a shelter if we were so inclined. But that’s not why I figure he’ll end up running a veterinarian clinic when he grows up. Half the time the animals he rescues have some injury or other. This puppy has a torn ear and a limp, and instinctively, Nicky knows what to do. It’s remarkable for a boy so young.

  Henry Applegate, our large-animal vet from Jackson, makes regular visits to the Last Chance, and Nicky follows him around like a rock-star groupie. He watches every move that man makes and asks so many questions it’s a wonder Henry doesn’t complain. I guess he’s flattered that Nicky idolizes him so.

  Fortunately Jonathan and Sarah are encouraging this interest. Jonathan agrees that his middle son has a gift, and Jonathan’s already hoping that Nicky will one day take over the medical care of the Last Chance horses. Personally, I’m glad there’s at least one steady boy in the batch.

  Jack, the oldest, has a wild streak and is guaranteed to turn his father’s hair prematurely gray. Gabe, the youngest, is the most competitive kid I’ve ever known. Jonathan plans to enter him in cutting-horse competitions when he’s old enough. Now that school’s out for the summer, Gabe’s driving us all crazy setting up contests of every kind. Yesterday it was rope climbing. Today it was an obstacle course. Thank God he doesn’t expect me to participate! I could probably climb that rope and navigate the obstacle course, but I’d rather not find out I couldn’t. Now that I’m almost eighty, I prefer to maintain my illusions.

  Whoops, gotta go. Nicky’s calling for us. He says Hercules peed in his bed. Now there’s a shocker.

  1

  Present day. Shoshone, Wyoming

  DEAR GOD IN HEAVEN. Regan O’Connelli, DVM, parked his truck outside the large double gate of Peaceful Kingdom Horse Sanctuary, nudged his Stetson back with his thumb and leaned his forearms against the steering wheel while he contemplated the sight before him. If his hippie parents ever ran an ani
mal rescue operation, it would look like this.

  Nick Chance, his brother-in-law and business partner, had mentioned that Lily King was slightly...different. Judging from the psychedelic colors she’d painted the ranch house, the barn and the outbuildings, different was an understatement. Even though he was wearing his Ray-Ban sunglasses, the neon green, pink, orange and turquoise hurt his eyes.

  She had to be the one who’d chosen the color scheme. She’d taken over from an elderly couple two months ago, and prior to that, it had been too cold to paint. Maybe if she’d stuck with one color per building, the effect wouldn’t have been so startling. But a pink barn with turquoise doors and trim was wrong on so many levels. It was a wonder the horses agreed to go inside.

  Or maybe they’d refused. He counted at least twenty of them milling around the property, which was a dozen more than Nick had told him to expect. There was a corral—he could see it from here—but the gate was open—accidentally or on purpose? He had a feeling she’d meant to keep it open so the horses wouldn’t feel constrained by any artificial boundaries. His parents would have done that sort of thing, too.

  Regan wished Nick had given him a little more information before sending him off on this mission of mercy. All he knew was that Lily’s parents were two of Nick’s favorite high school teachers and their daughter had an extremely high IQ, although she’d never stuck with one major long enough to earn a degree when she attended Berkeley. She had, however, invented a video game that continued to pay royalties, and she’d wanted to do something charitable with the money.

  Maybe Nick had been vague about Lily’s free-spirited persona because he knew Regan’s history. Regan and his seven siblings had lived a vagabond existence with their parents, traveling the country in a van painted the same colors Lily seemed to favor. Nick wouldn’t want to make fun of Lily’s setup and insult Regan’s folks in the process.

  Everybody at the Last Chance Ranch had come to love his unconventional parents, Bianca Spinelli and Seamus O’Connor. Regan loved them, too, even if they had saddled their kids with the surname of O’Connelli to avoid hyphenating O’Connor and Spinelli. They’d also given each child a gender-neutral first name to prevent stereotyping. Grade school had been hell, especially because the family had moved constantly and the name thing had to be explained every time they’d enrolled somewhere new.

  Regan had forgiven his well-meaning parents long ago, but Lily’s paint job brought up memories he’d rather forget. He had a job to do, though, and the color of the buildings had no bearing on that. Nick, who’d invited Regan into his vet practice six months ago, had volunteered out here for several years when the Turners had run the place. Nick had said he was grateful Lily had come along. Without her sudden decision to buy it, the sanctuary would have closed.

  Regan agreed that Lily was performing a valuable service, so he was prepared to do his part. As he climbed out of his truck and closed the door, a second truck pulled up. He didn’t recognize the middle-aged couple inside, but he instantly identified the crated animal in the back of the truck.

  When the man left the driver’s seat and started toward the tailgate, Regan walked over to find out what was going on. “Looks like you have a potbellied pig there.”

  “Yes, sir, I do.” The man adjusted the fit of his ball cap. “If you wouldn’t mind, I could use a hand carrying the crate. My wife helped me get Harley up there, but I think she did something to her back in the process. Harley’s put on a lot of weight since we got him.”

  “They tend to do that.” Regan made no move to help with the crate.

  “We didn’t figure on him getting this big. When he was little, we’d let him in the house, but now he’s even too big for the patio. We like to barbecue outside in the summer, and with Harley’s mud hole expanding by the day, it’s impossible.”

  Regan’s jaw tightened, although he knew this kind of thing happened all the time. People saw a cuddly baby animal and took it home while conveniently forgetting that baby animals grow into adults. “Where are you taking him?”

  The man looked at Regan as if doubting his intelligence. “Isn’t that obvious?”

  “Not to me. This is a horse sanctuary, and what you have there is a pig.”

  “True, but I know for a fact the lady running the place accepted a pig last week from a guy I work with. So if she took one pig, I imagine she can take another. I’ll make a donation to the cause. If you’d grab one end of the crate, I’d be much obliged.”

  “Before we do that, let’s make sure she’ll take him.” Regan didn’t know a lot about animal rescue, but asking first seemed like common courtesy.

  “She’ll take him. My buddy said she’s a softie.”

  Regan held on to his temper with difficulty. “She may be, but if there’s a potbellied-pig rescue organization in the area, that would be a better place for Harley.”

  “Look, mister.” The man’s eyes narrowed. “This is the day I set aside for handling this problem. My wife and I managed to get the pig into the crate and into the truck, which wasn’t easy. If you’re not gonna help me with the crate, step aside and I’ll do it myself, although God knows what that’ll do to my back.”

  “Hey, guys, what’s up?” On the far side of the gate stood a young woman of medium height with the kind of bright red hair that made people take a second look. It was so kinked it fanned out like a lion’s mane. Unlocking the gate, she stepped out and refastened it. She wore a tie-dyed shirt knotted at her waist, faded jeans and scuffed boots.

  Regan told himself to ignore the cuteness factor as she walked toward them. Nick could have mentioned that, too. Or the fact that sunlight made her hair glow. Maybe happily married Nick didn’t notice those things anymore. “Lily King?”

  “That’s me. I’ll bet you’re Regan, the vet who moved here from Virginia. Nick said you’d be coming today instead of him.”

  “Right.” At her approach, his senses went on alert. She smelled great, like a fresh meadow, and as she drew nearer, he noticed the freckles scattered across her nose, as well as her intensely blue eyes fringed with pale lashes. No makeup to speak of. It should all add up to wholesome, but instead she looked sexy and approachable. Good thing he wasn’t in the market right now. “Listen, this guy has a potbellied pig he wants to—”

  “So I gathered.” She glanced up at Regan, laughter in her gaze, as if they shared a secret.

  Oh, yeah. Sexy lady. And he didn’t think she was trying to be, either, which made her all the more interesting.

  “And I could use a hand with the crate, people.” The man had adopted a martyred tone.

  “I’ll help you.” Lily started toward the tailgate.

  “Hang on a minute.” Without thinking, Regan grabbed her arm and felt her tense. He released her immediately, but not before feeling firm muscles under her sleeve. This was no delicate flower. He admired that. “Is there a potbellied-pig sanctuary where he could go, instead?”

  “There is, but last I heard they’re at capacity. I already have one pig, so—”

  “Told you,” the guy said to Regan, folding his arms and looking smug.

  “So I think Wilbur would be happier if he had a friend,” Lily said. “I’m willing to take this pig.”

  Regan accepted defeat. “In that case, I’ll help carry him.”

  “Thanks.” She gave him a brilliant smile. “I’ll get the gate.”

  Moments later, the crate was inside the chain-link fence that surrounded the approximately five acres of her property and the couple had left without making the donation the husband had promised. Regan wasn’t terribly surprised. “Where should we take him now?”

  “I’ll let him decide where he wants to go.”

  “Maybe that’s not such a—” But she’d already unlatched the crate and Harley burst forth in an apparent frenzy of joy. The horses trotted out of his way, a
nd he flushed several chickens, which rose up in a cloud of feathers and angry clucking.

  Chickens?

  Lily smiled as she watched the pig cavort. “See how happy he is?”

  “You have chickens?”

  She shrugged as she continued to follow Harley’s progress with her gaze. “It’s the new thing to get chickens and have fresh eggs every morning. Urban farming is very in. But when the thrill is gone, people don’t want those chickens. I’ve had a few people ask, and I’ve got room, so why not? Oh, look. Here comes Wilbur to see his new friend.”

  Regan watched as a considerably smaller potbellied pig came around the end of the ranch house and approached Harley. “What if they fight?”

  She laughed, and the warmth of that laugh said a lot about her. She was obviously an optimistic soul who believed everything would turn out well. “Then you and I can wade in and separate them, I guess. But they’re not going to fight. They like each other. See? Is that sweet or what?”

  He had to admit the pigs seemed okay with each other, but it could have just as easily gone the other way. Then one of the horses, a sway-backed buckskin gelding, walked calmly past the pigs and began munching on what was left of a flower bed in front of the ranch house porch. “You let him do that?”

  “If it makes him happy.”

  “Then I guess you don’t care about having plants there.”

  She turned to face him. “I took over the sanctuary because I want to give these horses a home and a sense of self-worth. If they want to eat the flowers, so what? They’ve been arbitrarily yanked away from the life they used to know, so they deserve to be spoiled, right?”

  “Philosophically, yes. Practically, no. These are two-thousand-pound animals, and they need to live by a set of rules. In fact, all domestic animals function better that way.” Kids, too. He and his siblings had been given more freedom than they’d known what to do with. Somehow they’d avoided the serious consequences of that freedom, but he shuddered when he thought of how their lives might have turned out.