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Her brother scowled.
The broad-shouldered man in the expensive business suit pivoted to face her.
As he did, she went stock-still. Her stomach plummeted to her toes, while waves of sound roared in her ears. “Lucky?”
His dark eyes widened.
“Lucky what?” asked Travis, glancing from one to the other.
Abigail’s brain stumbled, and an exaggerated second slipped by. “Lucky I got here when I did,” she managed to say on a hollow laugh.
Where on earth had he come from? What was he doing standing here arguing with her brother?
Before she could formulate any kind of question, Lucky stepped forward, holding out his hand. “Zach Rainer. You must be Abigail. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Mr. Rainer was just leaving,” Travis put in with finality.
“I own the Craig Mountain Brewery,” Zach continued, his voice betraying none of the recognition evident in his expression.
“I … uh …” Her throat closed over. “I’m Abigail,” she managed to rasp, giving his hand a perfunctory shake. The sizzle of his brief touch ricocheted up her arm.
“Then you’re the woman I’m here to see. I understand you have some expertise on the regional-water-rights issue.”
Travis stepped forward. “Oh, no, you don’t.”
“I’d like to talk to Abigail.”
“But Abigail wouldn’t like to talk to you.”
“I think Abigail can speak for herself.” Lucky raised his brow.
She struggled to shake off the shock. So far, he was keeping their night a secret. Although she had to find out what he was up to, and quickly.
“It’s okay, Travis,” she said with a quick glance to her brother.
“No, it’s not okay. He doesn’t get to waltz in here and—”
“I’m not out to harm you.” Though Lucky was responding to Travis, he kept his gaze fixed on Abigail.
“You’re a liar,” said Travis.
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