“Cone of silence?” Abigail asked.

“Always.”

“I told him I didn’t like working on the ranch.” There. She’d said it out loud.

Lisa drew back in obvious surprise. “You don’t?”

The rest of the words seemed to leap out. “I loved the campaign. I like the city. I like office work. I like power lunches and research and analysis.”

“So, why are you here? You could get a hundred jobs in Lyndon or anywhere else.”

“Because they need me. The family needs me.”

“No, they-”

“They need me,” Abigail repeated with certainty.

Lisa was silent for a long moment. “Yeah, I guess they do.”

“If I was going to say something-” Abigail plucked at a seam on the leather belt “-I should have done it sooner. But now Seth’s gone, and Mom and Dad bought that condo in Palm Springs, and Mandy’s up at the Terrells, and Katrina was never here in the first place.” She drew a breath. “And I can’t abandon Travis.”

“So, you’re going to stay here forever?”

“Not forever. But until something changes, yes. Maybe Travis will find a wife. Maybe she’ll love ranching. Maybe they’ll have sons or daughters who want to take over.”

Lisa shook her hair so that it was blowing back from her face. “That sounds like a pretty long-term proposition.”

“It does,” Abigail agreed. But hoping something would come along to change the circumstances was all she had right now. She couldn’t change the circumstances herself. It all depended on external forces.

“Wish I could help,” Lisa offered. “But I don’t know a heifer from a milk cow.”

Abigail chuckled. “You’re helping Seth.”

“Seth’s doing a great job.”

“I know he is.” Abigail hesitated, desperate to ask about Zach, but not wanting to give Lisa the wrong idea. Or maybe asking would give Lisa exactly the right idea, since Abigail had pretty much been obsessing about him since Denver.

“The business license,” she ventured. “Was it…submitted locally?”

“Are you asking whether Zach’s in town?”

“Yes.” There didn’t seem to be any point in denying it, especially to Lisa, who seemed to have an uncanny knack for figuring things out.

“I take it you have feelings for him?”

Abigail shook her head in denial, more for her own benefit than Lisa’s. “I slept with him, so…you know…it’s weird. If I’m going to run into him, I’d like to brace myself.”

“The application was signed by someone named Alex Cable.”

“That’s Zach’s business partner.” So, no Zach. Just as well. The last thing in the world she needed was to see him again.

Eight

Zach almost didn’t see the guy as he wheeled his Jaguar around the corner on the dark Colorado highway, setting the car up for the turnoff to Craig Mountain. But there he was, hood to his pickup truck propped open, leaning inside in the drizzling rain, feet planted carelessly on the side of the road where somebody could easily clip his legs.

Zach hit the brakes, bringing his car to a halt behind the pickup. He put it in neutral, set the park brake, and left his lights on so nobody else would miss seeing the vehicles. Then he exited his Jag, hiking his suit collar up against the rainy weather.

“Need some help?” he called, extracting his cell phone from his jacket pocket. Hopefully, the cowboy was registered with the auto club.

“I think I’ve- Ouch! Crap.” It was a female voice. “Got it.”

He came around the end of the hood. “Abigail?”

She twisted her head to stare incredulously up at him in the gloom.

“What happened?” he asked, keeping his voice even, trying not to react to the shock of seeing her again. She had a grease smudge on her cheek. Her clothes were worn and muddy. And the battered hat on her head was dripping with rainwater.

She’d never looked more gorgeous.

He had to force himself to gaze down into the engine.

“I replaced the fan belt,” she informed him, voice unsteady.

But then his eyes focused on a spreading dark patch on her bare forearm. “You’re bleeding!” He reflexively reached for her, but then abruptly stopped himself, not wanting to hurt her any further.

She lifted her injured arm and dispassionately inspected the wound. “It’ll stop.”

“What do you mean, it’ll stop?” A stream of blood was trickling off her elbow onto the engine.

“Do you mind cranking the key?”

“Abigail.”

“You don’t want to help?”

“You’ve been injured.”

“Fine.” She extracted herself from under the hood, setting a wrench on the fender and turning for the driver’s door. “I’ll do it myself.”

“Get into my car,” he commanded, checking his cell phone, finding no signal.

She kept walking. “The truck will start now.”

He followed. “You need medical attention.”

“Don’t be melodramatic.” She opened the door and twisted her arm to get a better look in the glow of the dome light. “A few butterfly bandages will do the trick.”

The wound was even worse than he thought. “I am not letting you drive like this.”

She swung into the driver’s seat. “It’s not your decision.”

He quickly snagged the key from the ignition.

“Hey,” she protested.

Ozzy popped to his feet in the passenger seat and barked once, then wagged his tail at Zach and clambered onto Abigail’s lap to get closer.

“Give me back the keys, Zach.”

Zach scratched the dog’s head. “What’s he doing here?”

“He likes road trips. Now give me the keys.”

“Not a chance.” There was no way in the world he was sending her out injured on a dark, rainy highway.

She gripped the wheel with her good hand, glaring at him in anger. But her mouth was also tense with pain, white at the edges, and sweat had beaded on her forehead. “You can’t do this to me.”

“What the hell are you trying to prove?” he demanded.

“Nothing.”

“That you’re tough? Fine. I believe you’re tough.”

“I’m not trying to prove a thing to you. I couldn’t care less what you think of me. I’m trying to get these supplies to the ranch.”

He scooped Ozzy from her lap and tucked the pup against his chest. “Not tonight you’re not.”

She leaned back. “Zach, stop it.”

He put his free hand on her shoulder, and tried to keep his voice gentle. “This truck is a stick shift.”

“So what?”

“So you need both hands to drive it.”

“I have both hands.”

“We’re thirty minutes from the hospital in Lyndon, or thirty minutes from the paramedic at the Craig Mountain construction site. Which is it going to be?”

“I’m going back to the ranch.”

“We’re two hours from the ranch.”

“There is no we.”

“There is right now.” Giving up completely on logic and reason, he pocketed her keys, paced back around the front of the truck and slammed the hood with finality. He swore the woman had lost her mind.

He returned to find her eyes closed, teeth gritted, arm limp by her side. Her cheeks had gone a shade paler.

“I’m taking you to the hospital,” he announced, trying to figure out how to force her into his car without hurting her.

“Craig Mountain,” she retorted, opening her eyes, glaring in defiance.

Fine with him. The job-site paramedic was highly qualified. “I’m sure they’ll have some morphine for the pain and a local anesthetic for the stitches.”

She coughed a cold laugh. “I’m a cowboy. All I need is an aspirin and some alcohol.”

“For rubbing or ingesting?”

“A little of both.”

Impressed by her attempt at humor, he braced his hand firmly beneath her arm. “Come on, partner.”

“I’ll bleed all over your Jaguar.”

“That’s why they invented detailing shops.”

She eased her way out of the cab. “I don’t need stitches.”

“How about we let the medical professionals decide that.”

“You are so stubborn.” But the fight was gone from her voice.

“Yeah,” he drawled. “I’m the stubborn one.”

They made their way to his running vehicle, and he settled her into the passenger seat, placing Ozzy on the small backseat behind her. Glancing at her arm made him grimace. She had to be in a whole lot of pain.

“This is completely unnecessary,” she complained.

“Humor me.” He stripped off his suit jacket, tossed it back next to Ozzy. Then he began unbuttoning his cotton shirt.

“What are you- Oh, seriously, Zach. It can wait till we get to the castle.”

“I don’t think so.” He doffed the shirt, bent on one knee and loosely wrapped it over her arm.

“Ever think of becoming a nurse?” she asked.

“Not until now.”

“You’re very gentle.”

“You’re very brave.”

“It’s just a scratch.” But she was beginning to shiver.

“Cold?” he asked, worried that it might be a sign of shock.

“Little bit.”

He set her arm in her lap then retrieved his jacket, draping it around her shoulders. He turned the heater dial to full, softly latching the door before rounding the hood to get into the driver’s side.

“So, how’ve you been?” he asked as he eased out the clutch and pulled onto the dark highway. “I mean, up until now.”

“Fine,” she answered, sounding a lot more frustrated than faint. Maybe she wasn’t going into shock. “And you?”

“Busy. I guess you must have heard?”

“That you wised up and took my advice? Yes, I had heard that.”

“When you’re right, you’re right,” he allowed.

He took the first few turns of the mountain road.

“So you’re moving to Lyndon?”

He couldn’t identify the emotion in her voice. And, under the circumstances, maybe he was foolish to try. But he would love to know if his moving made her happy? Sad? Ticked off? If she was ticked off, she had no one to blame but herself. It was her idea.

“I am,” he told her.

“When did you get to town?”

“Today. Alex has been here for a while. He’s taking care of setting up the new head office in Lyndon. I’ve got some work to do at Craig Mountain.”