She reached out and scratched the pup’s head, her knuckles grazing Zach’s chest, causing him to suck in a breath.

“Kind of reminds me of my sister Katrina.”

“Katrina?”

“Yes, she’s a gorgeous, graceful ballerina in New York. But ranch work was too much for her.”

“So, she gets to live her dream instead?”

“She does.” There was pride in Abigail’s eyes as she glanced up. “She’s a principal dancer with the Liberty Ballet in New York City.”

“But you don’t get to live yours?” he asked.

“She started boarding school when she was ten years old. She only comes back for visits, not to work the ranch.”

“So?”

“So, it’s a completely different thing.”

“I don’t see how.”

“That’s because you’re not trying.” She dropped her hand and headed for the castle.

He began walking next to her. “I’m simply pointing out a double standard.”

“What’ve you got against my family, anyway?”

“I’ve never even met most of them.”

“But you’re judging them.”

“I’m judging you. And your apparent unwillingness to stand up to them.”

“I don’t hate ranching, Lucky.”

She didn’t appear to notice her use of his nickname, and he wasn’t inclined to correct her. He liked hearing that name on her lips.

“Life isn’t about doing things you ‘don’t hate.’ It’s about doing things you love.”

“Easy for you to say. I’m sure your family has absolutely no problem whatsoever with you being a rich, successful brewery owner.”

“I don’t have a family.”

“I mean your parents. You already told me you don’t have brothers and sisters.”

“I don’t have parents either.”

She stopped to look at him. “Did they die?”

“They did. When I was two.”

Her eyes widened. “Seriously.”

Zach was long past the place where having been orphaned was a problem for him. It simply was. He nodded in answer to her question.

“Wow,” her breath whooshed out.

“Happens to a lot of people,” he told her.

“I know.” She nodded. “So, were you adopted?”

“I grew up in foster homes. Well, foster homes when I was really little, then a group home.”

“A group home?”

“Like an orphanage. But smaller and less, you know, Oliver Twist.”

“Oh, Zach.” She blinked a couple of times.

“It’s fine.” He gave her an encouraging grin. “This conversation isn’t about me.”

“It is now.”

“No, it’s not. I’m all grown up. Everything’s good.”

“But you have no family.”

“I have Alex. And I have my company.”

“But-”

“It’s okay, Doll-Face. Now stop looking at me like that.”

“I’m sad for you.”

He rolled his eyes. “You should be sad about mucking out stalls, not about my misbegotten childhood.”

“We have hands who muck out the stalls.”

“That’s good to hear.” Zach turned to start back to the castle again, thinking Abigail’s feet must be getting cold, and Ozzy was probably getting hungry.

They walked a few yards in silence, Ozzy snuggled contentedly against Zach’s chest, watching the nighttime world go by.

“My cousin was adopted,” said Abigail.

“That’s nice.”

“I only just met her tonight. I mean, well, I’d met her lots of times before. She was involved in Seth’s campaign. But I only just found out tonight that she is my cousin.”

“While you were down in Lyndon?”

“Uh-uh. We got to talking.” Abigail paused. “We were talking about her and about Seth, and she blurted it out. She came here looking for us a couple of months back. We never even knew about her. Did you ever look for your family, Zach?”

“Nobody to look for.”

“Did you ever think about trying?”

“The state of Texas had no wish to pay for my education and upbringing. Believe me, if there’d been long-lost relatives to foist me upon, they’d have found them.”

Abigail fell silent at that. And they made their way to the castle and mounted the stairs, heading back inside. Though there’d been a few moments in Zach’s childhood when he’d fantasized about finding some long-lost relatives, he was a realist. Even if there was somebody out there with a tenuous genetic connection to him, what would be the point in finding them? His life was what it was, and he fully intended to live it.


* * *

Abigail blinked open her eyes to bright sunlight. It took a couple of seconds to realize she was on Zach’s couch. The laptop was on the coffee table in front of her, and she was covered in a soft quilt, a throw pillow tucked under her head.

She’d reviewed the annual reports from Zach’s six breweries until her eyes blurred and her head began to pound. As near as she could remember, she must have dozed off around five. She wasn’t sure how long she’d slept, but it wasn’t nearly long enough. Her eyes were scratchy, and a painful pulse throbbed at the base of her neck.

The suite was completely quiet.

She pulled into a sitting position, checking her watch and discovering it was nearly 10:00 a.m. She threw back the quilt then staggered her way to the bathroom, washing her face and scrubbing toothpaste across her teeth with her finger. She combed her hair and did the best she could to straighten her clothes. The small window provided a view of the front grounds and the parking lot. Several dozen vehicles were parked, and a number of people wandered the area. They looked more like tourists than employees, but she knew there’d be employees working both in the castle and the brewery by now. There would definitely be people down there who might recognize her. She suddenly felt like a princess imprisoned in a tower.

Ozzy’s little nails clattered on the living-area floor, and she opened the bathroom door.

“Morning,” Zach intoned, setting a tray down on the small corner table.

“You let me sleep,” she accused, slipping out of the bathroom.

“You were exhausted. I slept, too.”

“I should have gone back to Lyndon.”

Delicious aromas rose as Zach removed the silver covers from the tray. “You were way too tired to drive.”

“But it’s daytime and I’m not supposed to be here.”

“Nobody’ll see you up here.”

“So, I’m your prisoner?”

He lifted a silver pot and began to pour coffee. “You do have a flare for the dramatic.”

She was drawn to the coffee, and moved across the room. “Can I leave?”

“Not in the daylight.”

“There you go. I’m not being dramatic, I’m simply stating the facts at hand.”

He grinned in response to her indignation. “You need anything?”

“Coffee.” She lifted one of the cups and took a grateful sip. “I don’t do well on five hours’ sleep.”

“Cream or sugar?”

“Straight up is fine with me.”

“Like a cowboy?” he joked.

“I can do it over a campfire if necessary.”

“Not necessary this morning.” He gestured to the fine china and silver. It was quite beautiful.

“Where’d you get this stuff?”

“I think it might be antique.” He pulled out a chair and gestured for her to sit down. It seemed pointless to argue, so she sat.

“Lucas is lobbying to open a small restaurant here at the brewery,” Zach continued, taking the chair across from her. “He says people like touring the castle as much as they like touring the brewery, and this would help make Craig Mountain a destination.”

“Seems like a good idea to me.” Abigail helped herself to a small pot of strawberry jam and spread it on a slice of toast.

“I’d only consider it if it helped to market the beer.”

“You don’t want to diversify?”

“We’re not a bed-and-breakfast.”

“Could’ve fooled me.” She bit down on the toast.

Zach chuckled. “These are extraordinary circumstances.”

Abigail contemplated while she chewed and swallowed. “Zach, how many people do you think you could reasonably employ in a new restaurant?”

He raised his brows. “Are you thinking about the employment exemption?”

“We’re definitely not going to get anyone to declare a state of emergency. And we’ll never sell you as a strategic industry.”

“I can ask Lucas. But I’m guessing, maybe twenty.”

She knew it wouldn’t be enough. “Even combined with the additional brewery staff, I don’t think that’ll work. You’d need to be adding a couple hundred new jobs at least.”

“That’s definitely not going to happen,” said Zach, cutting into the omelet on his plate.

“Then we’re back to the committee presentation.”

“What about job losses if we close?”

“Those don’t count.”

“Why not?”

She shrugged. “I guess because every business in the valley that wanted a change to their license would threaten to close.”

“How long do you think the committee process will take?”

“Weeks, at least. The application will take a while to write, and there’s no guessing how long the committee will take to review it.” The process was going to be longer than she’d hoped, that was for sure.

Zach set down his fork. “The bulldozers show up tomorrow.”

“What bulldozers?”

“First thing we need to do here is dig the foundation for the expansion.”

She sat up straight. “You’re starting already?”

“I’ve got no choice. If we’re not up and running by November, and into increased production by January, we won’t make our spring orders.”

“But-”

“There’s no point in me sitting on my hands while you fill out the paperwork.”

“But what if you don’t get the license?”

He lifted his coffee cup in a mock salute. “I’m counting on you, Abigail.”

Her stomach instantly hollowed out. He’d already told her DFB was in financial trouble. He was about to spend hundreds of thousands, if not millions, of dollars on what might be useless renovations.

“Don’t count on me,” she begged. Then she reflexively reached for his hand. “Seriously, Zach. This a long shot.” She could fill out the paperwork for him, but many had tried this route. So far nobody had been successful.