Taming the Montana Millionaire

by Teresa Southwick

  Marlon chose that moment to shift and brush his shoulder against hers and the resulting heat shooting through her made her wonder if the saying was true. Not that she wanted his heart—she didn’t. She wasn’t even sure she liked him, let alone trusted him. Besides, something bothered her about his explanation for not having a car. And why was he really helping at ROOTS?

  But none of those questions stopped the heat from pooling in her belly when he brushed against her again. He smelled good, clean and manly. After they’d arrived this morning he’d gone upstairs to his apartment to clean up. She hadn’t expected him to come back, but he’d surprised her. The two guys had eaten a full breakfast—eggs, bacon, hash browns and pancakes—but she’d lost her appetite the moment Marlon slid into the booth beside her.

  The waitress on duty stopped by the booth with a pot of coffee in her hand. “I hope you enjoyed your breakfast?”

  “Best pancakes I’ve ever had,” Marlon said.

  “Everything was really good, Shirley,” Haley added, glancing at the teen who didn’t look up. When he ordered coffee, she’d started to overrule him as being too young. Marlon touched her thigh, just a warning gesture that trapped her protest in her throat. She would never be sure whether she let it slide because being a guy Marlon knew more about guys, or simply that the sizzle generated by his touch zapped it from her mind.

  Shirley Echols was a green-eyed redhead who’d grown up in Thunder Canyon. She went away to college, but came back every summer to work. Holding up the coffee pot she said, “Warm up?”

  Haley shook her head as her two companions slid their mugs closer for refills, then remembered that this was the other girl’s last day. “It’s been great working with you this summer.”

  “Yeah. Me, too. I’ll miss you.”

  “Where are you going?” Marlon asked.

  “Back to college. UCLA. Senior year, finally.”

  “It’s a great school,” he said approvingly. “And Westwood is a nice area. Close to L.A., Hollywood, Santa Monica. The ocean. Some happening places.”

  “I know.” Shirley slid him a flirty little smile.

  Haley was suddenly less concerned about losing a coworker and covering those shifts than the fact that she didn’t like the way Marlon was returning the smile. It could be that a sense of nagging envy was responsible. The two of them shared knowledge of a place Haley had never been and had no expectation of ever going. She was a hick who’d never been out of Montana and had no business wondering if the way to Marlon’s heart was through his stomach. Or anything else about him, for that matter.

  But darn it, what she was feeling seemed a lot like jealousy. Not that she’d had much experience with the emotion what with her lack of any dating history, but she couldn’t deny that resentful pretty well described the knot in her stomach. She wasn’t proud of it, but wouldn’t deny it, either.

  She might be a hick, but she was a polite hick. “Good luck with your last year of school.”

  “Thanks.” Shirley started to walk away then said over her shoulder, “If you need anything else, let me know.”

  “Count on it,” Marlon said with a wink.

  Haley bit back a retort because it wasn’t any of her business. But the boy across from her was. If she was going to help him, she had to get him to talk.

  “Okay, Roy, so tell me again where you’re from.”

  “I never said.” He slouched lower in the seat, his empty plate in front of him.

  “It was worth a shot.” She tried to think of something to draw him out. “What brought you to Thunder Canyon?”

  “The trucker I hitched a ride with.”

  The whole scenario sent a chill through her. “Taking rides from total strangers isn’t very safe.”

  “Really?” Marlon’s tone oozed sarcasm. “Carting around complete strangers isn’t what smart, savvy people do?”

  “I wouldn’t hurt her,” Roy said.

  “I’d like to believe that.” Marlon leaned back in the booth. “But you won’t tell us more than your name. We don’t have any way to check out that you’re telling us the truth. Smart money is on keeping you under surveillance.”

  “He’s just a kid,” Haley protested. “Cut him some slack.”

  “Yeah,” Roy chimed in. “You don’t understand anything.”

  “So tell us about yourself.” Haley wrapped her hands around her mug. “What grade are you in?”

  He thought for a moment and apparently decided sharing that couldn’t give too much away. “Twelfth.”

  “So you’ll be a senior,” she confirmed. “Last year of high school. Graduation. Prom.”

  “No way.” He looked more sullen if possible.

  “Do you play sports?” she asked.

  “Some.”

  “I was on the football team in high school,” Marlon shared.

  Roy folded his arms over his chest. “Big deal.”

  It was to Haley. She remembered watching him play. If there was a girl at Thunder Canyon High who didn’t have a crush on him, she didn’t know her. She’d quietly observed him on the field and in the halls, wishing he’d notice her, but half afraid that if he did, she’d make a fool of herself. And then he’d kissed her, just a freak encounter at a football fundraiser the summer after she graduated and he was home from college.

  He’d kissed her and she was foolish enough to believe that the earth actually tilted for both of them when he promised to call her. When he never did, she realized that the earth only moved for her and felt like the worst kind of fool—the lovesick kind.

  Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me, she thought.

  “Are you on a team?” she asked Roy.

  “Football,” he confirmed. “And basketball.”

  “Does your high school play Thunder Canyon during the season?” That information might narrow down where he lived.

  “Maybe. Maybe not.”

  “Nice try, Haley,” Marlon said.

  “You can’t trick me into telling you anything,” the kid said. “Everything sucks and I’m not going back.”

  “What about your family?” she asked. “Your parents?”

  When he didn’t answer, Marlon said, “You do have parents?”

  A sullen look slid over the teen’s painfully young face. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

  Marlon rested his forearms on the table and studied the boy.

  “Your parents probably care about you.”

  “Didn’t say I had any.”

  “Assuming you do, they’re probably worried. Although if it were up to me I’d be pretty ticked off at ungrateful offspring like you.”

  “Whatever. I can take care of myself.”

  “I’m sure you can,” Haley agreed. “But when you care about someone, you worry.”

  “Who says I care about anyone but myself?” the teen argued.

  “It’s pretty clear you don’t,” Marlon snapped. “The least you can do is call them.”

  “Why should I? They don’t care.”

  “So that would be a confirmation on having parents.” Marlon nodded with satisfaction.

  “I didn’t say that,” Roy said quickly.

  “No one here is buying it. You need to let them know you’re okay.”

  “Not gonna happen.”

  “Roy, they must be so worried. If I didn’t know where my brother or sister was, I would be frantic.”

  “It’s not like that where I come from.”

  “Someone cares enough to pay big bucks for the jeans and T-shirt you’re wearing,” Marlon pointed out. “Isn’t that the MC/TC brand?”

  “So?”

  “It’s expensive.”

  He should know, Haley thought. It was his. “I agree with Marlon.”

  “You do?” Marlon sounded shocked.

  She glanced at his half-amused, half-surprised expression. “Yes, I do. Roy, you have to call your folks and let them know you’re not dumped by the side of the road. Or starving. Or sick.”

  �
�You can’t make me.”

  True. Now what was she going to do? Try to reason with him. But so far that hadn’t worked. She could threaten, refuse to help unless he cooperated. But it wasn’t a good idea to make threats you weren’t prepared to follow through on. She couldn’t turn him out in the cold. And she wasn’t quite ready to go to the cops and see if anyone reported him missing. He might just run away again and not be lucky enough to find help.

  Marlon blew out a breath. “Okay, tough guy. How about a shoot-out?”

  Haley nearly got whiplash when she turned to look at him. “What? You think pistols at ten paces will get the truth out of him?”

  “Not guns. Basketball,” he explained. “One on one.”

  “I’d kick your ass,” Roy scoffed.

  “Really?” Marlon nodded. “Okay, how about this. If you beat me I get Haley to back off.”

  What? She didn’t like where this was going. “Wait a minute—”

  He held up a hand to stop her. “If I win, you call the folks and let them know you’re alive and well.”

  Doubt flickered around the edges of his bravado. “I don’t know—”

  “Just what I thought. No guts.”

  “Says who?”

  Haley could almost see the testosterone arcing back and forth but wasn’t so sure this was the way to get information.

  “Look, kid,” Marlon said, “You’ve got a big mouth, but so far I haven’t seen anything to back it up. What have you got to lose?”

  “Nothing.” Blue eyes flashed with anger. “You’re on. It should be easy to beat an old guy like you.”

  “Old?”

  Haley felt him tense and saw his outraged expression, which was hilarious. She couldn’t stop the laughter that bubbled up. “Who knew that at twenty-five you were over the hill?”

  “You’re only a year behind me,” he grumbled. “It won’t be so funny three-hundred-and sixty-five days from now.”

  Probably not, she thought. But it wasn’t often the legendary Marlon Cates looked like he did now, and she planned to enjoy the experience while it lasted.

  Marlon couldn’t wait to tell Haley that the “old guy” was victorious. He and Roy were at ROOTS, hanging out inside after unlocking the door with the key she’d given him. He grabbed two cold sodas from the refrigerator and handed one to the kid who was sitting on the old sofa, humbled and quiet.

  “Gotta work on your jump shot, kid,” he said.

  “Whatever.” The tone attempted defiance and failed miserably. He took the soda, popped the top, and downed at least half in one long drink.

  Marlon did the same, then looked around. This place was taking shape. The mural was nearly finished—Haley had outdone herself. The wall depicted teens listening to music, playing video games, typing on the computer, reading books. She’d drawn a boy with braces on his teeth, a girl with a zit on her cheek, groups of kids talking.

  In every scene, Haley had captured a reality and warmth that were emotionally true. They said writers had a “voice,” and looking at her talented depiction of the teen world, it occurred to him that artists did too. He could see her sweetness, caring and sense of humor in every brush stroke on the wall.

  The front door opened and in walked the artist herself, looking young enough to pass for one of the teenagers she was so passionate about helping. If she had makeup on, he couldn’t tell. But that didn’t make her any less beautiful. In fact, she was more lovely, more appealing than high-profile models and actresses all over L.A. and Hollywood because of her naturalness.

  Her shiny brown hair was pulled into a ponytail and wisps of bangs teased her forehead. Her Hitching Post knit shirt, green this time, was tucked into a pair of jeans without any label, but the inexpensive denim hugged her hips and legs and made his fingers itch to cup her curves.

  “Hey,” she said, looking from him to the teen on the couch. The basketball was at his feet. “Well?”

  Marlon grinned. “Old guys rule.”

  “You won?” She moved farther into the room, a shocked expression on her face.

  “Don’t sound so surprised.”

  “I’m surprised,” Roy mumbled.

  “I can’t believe it,” she said.

  Roy leaned his elbows on skinny knees. “He got lucky.”

  Marlon happened to be looking into Haley’s shining brown eyes and couldn’t help thinking about a different kind of lucky. Then he pushed the thought away. She wasn’t the type of girl a guy casually played around with, which made him a jerk for even thinking it. But he was also a guy and couldn’t help wondering what it would be like to touch her….

  “I’m very impressed,” she said, then looked intently at Roy. “And have you held up your end of the bargain?”

  “I was sort of hoping you’d let me scrub floors and toilets instead.” There was a pleading expression in his eyes.

  She shook her head. “Not a chance. Phone home.”

  “I’m not telling them where I am,” he said stubbornly.

  “No one says you have to. The deal was you let them know you’re okay. Do you want to use my cell?”

  “No. I don’t want them tracking me.”

  Marlon leaned his forearms on the back of the recliner. “Unless they work for an elite law enforcement agency and are expecting your call, I don’t think they can triangulate your position.”

  “Very funny,” Roy said, but he was fighting a smile.

  “I thought so.”

  “I’m waiting.” Haley crossed her arms over her chest.

  The teen huffed out a breath, then pulled out his phone and thumbed through his address book and hit dial. He waited and they could all hear when a woman answered.

  “Ma? It’s me. I’m fine. That’s all I wanted to say.” He rolled his eyes, then interrupted, “No. All you need to know is that I’m okay. Tell Dad whatever you want.” Without another word he hung up. He finished his Coke, set the can on the coffee table, then grabbed the basketball and stood. “I’m going to shoot some hoops.”

  “You forgot something.” Haley nodded at the empty can.

  “There’s a recycle container in the back room. Rule number one is pick up after yourself.”

  He rolled his eyes, huffed out another breath then grudgingly did as instructed. Then he walked to the front door and said, “Now can I go?”

  “You need the practice,” Marlon commented.

  “Yes, you can go,” Haley said.

  Without another word, shrug, eye-rolling or huffing breath, Roy was gone.

  Haley set her purse on the coffee table. “You didn’t have to rub it in.”

  “Yeah, I really did.”

  “Because of the ‘old guy’ crack?” Her full lips curved up at the corners.

  “Pretty much. Although, just between you and me, he almost beat me. In the end, it was experience that gave me the edge. That, and a killer jump shot.”

  “So you won because you’re old?” she asked.

  “No. I’m experienced.”

  “And vain.”

  He thought about that. “Maybe. But did he have it coming? Oh, yeah. The kid needed to be taken down a peg or two. Humility is a building block of respect.”

  “What about his self-esteem?”

  “What about mine?” he countered.

  “You’re an adult. You should be above that sort of thing.”

  “Call me shallow, but I felt the need to teach him a lesson. And, contrary to what most do-gooders—excluding yourself, of course—would have you believe, self-esteem isn’t shaped by everyone telling you how wonderful you are. It’s formed by putting in the work. You earn it by putting one foot in front of the other, day after day. Running away from your problems doesn’t solve them. They just trot right along after you.”

  She tilted her head to the side as she studied him. The ends of her ponytail teased her shoulder and gave him more ideas a guy shouldn’t have about a girl like her.

  “What?” he asked warily.

  “Is it possible
I was wrong about you?”

  That was unexpected. He shook his head. “I think there’s a problem with my hearing.”

  “Why?”

  “I could have sworn you said you were wrong about me.”

  “No.” She fought a smile. “I said it was possible.”

  “Same thing.” When she opened her mouth to protest, he held up a hand to stop her. “What is it you were wrong about?”

  One of her eyebrows rose questioningly. “I never would have guessed that self-esteem was one of your issues.”

  “Humor me.”

  “Okay.” She sighed. “Maybe I was wrong about a bad boy like you being able to relate to kids.”

  “Wow. And?”

  “And what?”

  “You questioned my role model qualifications,” he reminded her.

  “I was wrong. Seriously, Marlon, I understand now what you meant when you were talking about thinking outside the box. Roy never would have called his mom because I asked him to. You were right about understanding a guy’s point of view. It never would have occurred to me to challenge him to one-on-one basketball, let alone be able to beat him. I’m sorry for misjudging you.”

  “Apology accepted.”

  “I’ll go even further. Maybe—” she held up a finger in mock warning “—just maybe, you’re a good man and actually as sincere as you seem.”

  When she smiled at him with genuine warmth and admiration, Marlon felt something shift and tighten in his chest. He’d vowed to get her respect. Mission accomplished. Having it felt even better and more satisfying than he’d expected. It was way past time to confess the real reason he was volunteering and assure her that he would do every last hour of his community service.

  He straightened away from the chair and moved in front of her. “There’s something I need to tell you—”

  Music coming from her purse interrupted him. “My cell.”

  It took her a few seconds to rummage through her pocketbook before finding the phone. She flipped it open. “Hello. Hi, Linda. Sure, I can come in and help train the new girl. No problem. See you later.” She hung up and looked at him. “Sorry. You were saying?”