“A hundred different people can drive the truck to the ranch,” said Zach. “You’re the only one who has a vision for my restaurant.”

Though she knew he was only being kind, her heart warmed at the compliment. She did have a vision for his restaurant. At least, she had a vision that she liked. There was no way to know if anyone else would like it. Staying definitely sounded more appealing than going.

Then again, staying anywhere lately sounded more appealing to her than going home to the ranch. She didn’t know whether she’d become spoiled or lazy. But she needed to get past that.

“I really have to go home,” she told him, knowing there was a trace of apology in her tone.

“Let’s play it by ear.” He swirled his drink.

Good enough.

She knew she wasn’t going to change her mind, but she could always tell him that in the morning.

She lifted her glass to her lips and realized she’d emptied it.

“Went down good?” he asked.

“Too good,” she acknowledged.

“Refill?”

She shook her head. She was already pleasantly woozy, and more than a little tired.

“You want to lie down?”

“I should try to sleep,” she admitted, coming to her feet. “Down the hall?” she asked, remembering there were a couple of smaller bedrooms between the suite and the back staircase.

He rose with her. “Take my bed.”

“Oh, no, no, no.” She shook her head.

“Give me a break. I mean you should sleep in it alone. You’ve got the bathroom here, and it’s comfortable-”

“I’ll be fine anywhere. I’ve slept beside campfires and in line shacks half my life.”

He moved toward her. “Good for you. But not when you’re hurt. And not on my watch.”

“I’m not made of spun glass, Zach.”

“Really? Could have fooled me, cowboy.” His arm encircled her shoulder. “What with all your pouting, impatience and temper tantrums.”

“Stop mocking me.”

He urged her away from the couch, while Ozzy settled himself in the warm spot she’d left behind. “Humor me. Please. I’ll feel like a cad if I send you to a cold bedroom down the hall while I snuggle in here.”

She couldn’t help chuckling. “Snuggle?”

Once he had her walking, he steered her to the bed. “Yes. I want you to snuggle.” He pulled back the covers.

“Fine,” she reluctantly agreed. She was here. She was tired. She was sore. If he was going to insist, she’d bloody well sleep in his bed.

She sat down on the crisp sheet, and the robe slipped off her knee. After a moment, she was aware of Zach’s still silence. She glanced up at him.

“What happened?” he demanded.

She followed the direction of his gaze, coming to a purple, half-healed bruise on the middle of her thigh.

“Oh, that.” She covered it up with the robe. “I was painting the other day. I tripped halfway down the ladder and smacked into one of the rails.”

“You were painting a house?”

“A shed.”

“And you fell down a ladder?”

“It wasn’t a big deal.” Embarrassed that he was going to think she was a hopeless klutz, she pulled her legs up onto the bed, curling them under the covers.

“And this?” he asked.

Too late, she realized the robe had fallen off her shoulder.

Zach’s thumb traced a barely visible bruise on the tip.

“Pulling a horseshoe.”

“Oh, Doll-Face.” He sighed.

Before she knew what was happening, he’d leaned in and kissed the fading bruise.

“Zach,” she warned.

“Scoot over.”

They couldn’t do this. She couldn’t do this. No matter how much she might think she wanted to do this.

“I can’t,” she managed to say.

“That’s not what I meant. You’re hurt. You’re tired. You’re a little drunk.”

“I’m not drunk.”

“I gave you a lot of scotch.”

“It helped.”

“That was the point.”

“But I’m not drunk.”

“I just want to hold you.” He eased her to the middle of the bed. “Just for a few minutes.”

“Why?” she asked with suspicion, holding herself stiff.

He stretched out beside her. “I don’t know.” He circled an arm around her, but stopped before he touched her. “Any other sore spots I should know about?”

“My ribs,” she answered before she thought it through. She probably should have kept that to herself.

His expression darkened. “What happened to your ribs?”

“I came off a horse. It happens a lot.”

He closed his eyes for a long second, but then his arm curled ever so gently around her stomach. “It never happens to me.”

She couldn’t help smiling at that. The warmth of his arm felt very good against her stomach. As her body relaxed, he put his own head down on the pillow.

“You need to find a safer job,” he muttered.

“I need to find someone who won’t fight with me all the time.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

“Well, there’s a first.”


* * *

Abigail awoke in Zach’s arms. There was no way to tell how long he’d stayed with her last night. The whiskey had put her into a sound sleep, and this morning he was showered and changed, lying on top of the quilt, while she was tucked underneath it.

“Morning,” he intoned in a deep, lazy voice, smoothing her hair back from her forehead.

“What time is it?” She stifled a yawn.

“Nearly nine.”

“Nine?” She started to sit up, but a jolt of pain shot through her arm. She gritted her teeth, just barely controlling an outburst. “I have to call Travis.”

“I already did.”

“Excuse me?” She must have misunderstood.

“I called Travis. He’s sending someone out to the highway to pick up the truck.”

Abigail struggled to a sitting position, using her good arm to hold the covers across her chest where the robe had come open while she slept. “You had no right to do that.”

“You’re definitely in no shape to drive home.”

She groaned out a frustrated exclamation.

“Hungry?” he asked.

“I don’t even know what to say to that.”

“Yes?”

“Since when did you become Travis’s best friend?”

“I told him about the stitches.”

“He already knew I had stitches.”

“You downplayed it. And we agreed it would be better for you to wait a day or two before going back to work.”

“What is wrong with you?”

“He offered to come and pick you up, but I told him I’d make sure you got home.”

“Seriously, Zach. You can’t just up and plan another person’s life.”

“I consulted your family,” he defended with a straight face.

“That’s not the point.”

“You’ve always made it clear their opinion was important.”

“Oh no you don’t.” She shook her head vigorously. She wasn’t about to let him use her family against her. She might love and respect them, but that didn’t mean Zach got to do an end run around her own wishes.

He moved to a sitting position, swinging his legs so that his feet rested on the floor. Then he twisted back to look at her. “Do you really want to go home right away?”

Part of her did, and part of her didn’t. There was always plenty of bookwork for her to do at the ranch. So she could rest up for a couple of days and still be useful. Then again, Zach had her enthusiastic about the restaurant, and it would be fun to prowl through the castle for a few hours.

“This afternoon would be fine, I guess.”

He smiled at that. “I washed your clothes.”

Okay, that embarrassed her. “Really?”

“They’re on the counter in the bathroom.” He stood. “I’ll go get us some breakfast. You need anything else? A couple of painkillers?”

“Some aspirin would be nice.”

“I can get you something stronger.”

“What are you, my dealer?”

He chuckled at that. “I’m just trying to make you comfortable.”

She realized that he was. She was the one being surly and antagonistic. All the poor man had done was rescue her from the side of the road, get her medical attention, inform her family and take care of her truckload of ranch supplies, while she was doing nothing but give him grief.

“Aspirin will be fine,” she told him, determining to do her best to help him gather some ideas for the restaurant. It was the least she could do to pay him back.

“See you in a couple of minutes.”

He left the room with Ozzy at his heels, and by the time she’d freshened up and gotten dressed, the pair of them were back, Zach carrying a tray of coffee and two stacks of delicious-smelling pancakes.

“Where did you get all this?” she asked, taking a seat at the small table. There were two aspirin tablets sitting next to a glass of orange juice, and she popped them into her mouth and washed them down.

“There’s a kitchen in the staff area. Staff members do some cooking for lunches and things, since we’re so far from any services up here. But, in this case, I got the food from the catering truck set up for the construction site.” He sat down across from her, pouring syrup onto his plate of pancakes. “You need any help?”

She bit back the sarcastic retort that formed on her tongue. What was the matter with her? “I’m fine,” she answered pleasantly.

He waited a moment before responding. “Good.”

“Would you still like some help picking out furniture and things to decorate the restaurant?”

“Absolutely. But only if we don’t wear you out.”

“You won’t wear me out.” She cut into her pancakes with the side of her fork, spearing a bite. She’d skipped dinner last night, planning to eat once she got back to the ranch. But after the breakdown, there hadn’t been an opportunity. So, this morning, she was famished.

They ate companionably, talking about housing, schools and services available in Lyndon. Abigail had a hard time wrapping her head around the fact that DFB headquarters was moving to Lyndon. And hearing Zach talk, she realized just how complex an undertaking it would be. They had lawyers, accountants and real estate agents working overtime. It was a major disruption to the lives of all his employees.

Listening, she found herself feeling guilty for having pushed the move on him. Then again, there really wasn’t another solution to expand Craig Mountain Brewery. And if the expansion was as important as Zach made it out to be, then she’d provided the only solution possible.

They finished breakfast and headed for the north tower. She’d already been up in the center tower. It was easily accessed by a half flight of stairs from the fourth floor. The north tower was a little tougher to access. They made their way to the rear service area, where they came to a narrow, curving, stone staircase that spiraled up in a dim passage. Ozzy gazed up the stairs as if considering his options, then, evidently having decided to skip the climb, settled on a worn, padded bench seat in the stream of sunshine from a recessed window. He wasn’t the most athletic dog in the world.

“You’re not planning to imprison me up here, are you?” Abigail couldn’t help joking as she and Zach made their way up.

“It’d be perfect for that, wouldn’t it?” he said over his shoulder.

“If you ever had a fantasy about being an evil count, this would definitely be the place to act it out.”

“Scream as loud as you like, sweet darling,” he intoned in a dramatic, dire voice. “No one will ever hear you.”

“I wonder why they built it this way.” She couldn’t see any particular use for a room this inaccessible.

“According to Lucas, Lord Ashton modeled the entire castle after one his family owned back in Britain.”

“Either that, or he had a crazy wife he needed to imprison.”

“That would be my second guess.” Zach stopped at the top of the steep staircase, bracing his shoulder against a thick, rough-hewn, oak door.

“I hope she’s not still in there,” Abigail joked as the hinges squeaked.

“I don’t think anyone’s been up here in fifty years,” said Zach.

“Seriously?” Now she was really curious.

“I’m joking. Apparently they clean up here periodically.”

She socked him in the back. “Not funny.”

“I wasn’t really spooking you, was I?”

“No.” Well, not exactly. Coming across the skeletal remains of someone’s long-dead, imprisoned, insane wife-now, that would have truly spooked her.

The door opened to reveal a surprisingly brightly lit room. It was wide and round, with an abnormally high ceiling and at least a dozen lead-paned windows recessed into the stone walls. The air was still, warm and musty, and most of the contents of the room were boxed in cardboard or aging wooden trunks. It didn’t seem to have antique furniture like the center tower and some of the other upstairs rooms. She supposed nobody would want to carry a dresser or cabinet up that staircase.

“I can’t even imagine what’s inside all these.” She glanced around, feeling like a kid on Christmas morning.