Taming the Montana Millionaire (4 page)

“It's hard to say. Arthur Swinton has been around for years. He's experienced and everyone knows him. It's hard to argue against a family values platform.”

It would be especially important to someone like Haley who had stepped into a difficult situation to take care of family, he thought. “What do you think of Bo?”

There was silence for a few moments before she said, “He's young and has fresh ideas that could shake things up. That's not a bad thing. Especially with the economy in such big trouble.”

“You got that right.”

“Has your company been affected by the downturn?” she asked.

“Oh, yeah.” It was one of the things on his mind when he'd been pulled over for speeding. He'd been wondering whether to tough it out or sell out. The latter option would mean putting a lot of people out of work. That was something he didn't take lightly.

“What's wrong, Marlon?”

“Why?”

“I could hear it in your voice. Something's bothering you.”

Apparently he wasn't the only one whose other senses were heightened in the dark. “I just have some business things to work through.”

“Anything I can—” A noise at the back door stopped her. “Did you hear that?” she whispered.

“Yeah. Stay here.” He put his hand on her arm and actually felt it when she was about to argue. “I mean it, Haley.”

“Be careful, Marlon.”

He nodded, then rolled to a standing position and
soundlessly moved to the doorway and peeked into the storeroom. A shape was backlit by outside lights in the open door. Marlon ducked back and waited in the main room for the guy to move past him. When he did, Marlon grabbed him from behind.

“Hey, man—”

One of the lamps switched on and Marlon blinked against the brightness, but didn't loosen his hold. “Haley, call the cops.”

“He's just a kid, Marlon.”

“I didn't know anyone was here.” The young voice cracked with the pleading tone. “Let me go. I won't bother you again.”

“Don't hurt him,” Haley said.

“Hurt him?” This jerk had spoiled a day that should have been happy for her. And all she could think about was not hurting this kid who had no respect for locks and rules? “Are you serious?”

“Look at him. He's more scared than we are.” She moved closer. “What's your name?”

There was no sound except heavy breathing from the exertion of their recent scuffle. Marlon tightened his arms, just a little pressure to give the aspiring delinquent something to think about.

“The lady asked you a question.”

“Roy. Robbins,” he added.

Marlon eased his grip and dropped his hands, then moved to the side to get a good look. Haley was right. He was just a kid, about sixteen or seventeen. Looked like a young Brad Pitt, but skinny and not much taller than Haley.

“What's your deal, kid?”

“None of your business.”

“That's where you're wrong. When you broke in here
and scared Haley it became my business.” He glanced at the woman in question, who was looking back at him like an alien had popped out of his chest. “Do you know him?”

She shook her head. “You need help, don't you, Roy?” There was no answer, which spoke volumes. “The thing is, kiddo, you didn't need to break in. But you picked the right place. ROOTS is all about helping kids in trouble.”

“I'm not in trouble—”

“Wrong again, kid.” Marlon watched him closely, waiting for any movement that would indicate he was planning to run for it. “Breaking and entering is a crime. Call the cops, Haley,” he said again.

“It's not necessary.”

“How can you say that?” Marlon demanded.

“He's just a kid. Probably a runaway. Not dangerous. The authorities have enough to do. This isn't something we need to generate a lot of paperwork for. When my brother was about the same age, he ran away and I was frantic.” She looked at the kid. “Let me call your parents to come get you.”

“No way.” Testosterone-fueled anger wrapped around the words.

“Your mom and dad are probably worried sick about you, Roy.”

“They could give a crap,” he said bitterly.

Haley frowned. “Did they hurt you?”

“It's not like that,” he said quickly.

“Tell me what it's like,” she urged.

The kid ran his fingers through his short, spiky, dirty-blond hair. “I just had to get out of there.”

“To clear your head?” Haley asked.

“I guess.” He lifted a thin shoulder.

Marlon was impressed that she seemed to get him, to understand a guy's need to be alone. Maybe she would
comprehend his own need for speed and the resulting community service.

“Go ahead. Call the cops,” Roy challenged, his voice sullen and resigned.

It grated on Marlon, but Haley just smiled.

“I don't think that's necessary,” she said again. “I'm glad you weren't out on the street. You just needed a place to spend the night.”

“And that justifies breaking and entering?” Marlon demanded.

“He didn't take anything.”

“That's because you didn't have beer in the fridge,” Marlon said wryly.

“That wasn't the best choice you could have made,” Haley gently chided the teen.

Roy just shrugged. “Can I go now?”

“Do you have a place to sleep?” she asked, knowing full well he didn't or he wouldn't be here.

“What do you care?” the teen asked.

“That's not an answer.” Haley folded her arms over her chest. “I'd give you permission to sleep here except my permit doesn't allow anyone under age to be here without adult supervision.”

“Then I'll split and find somewhere else to crash.”

Haley sighed. “Look, it's late. I'm tired. And I won't sleep if I'm worried about you.”

Hey, Marlon thought, that was his line. He didn't like where this was heading.

“You don't have to,” the kid told her.

“Doesn't mean I won't. You can come home with me.”

“What?” Marlon stared at her and wondered if her bleeding heart was starving her brain of oxygen. “That's crazy. What do you know about him?”

“He's in trouble. That's all I need to know.” She held
up her hand to stop him when Roy started to deny it. “He reminds me of Austin when he was that age. It's why I started this program. How can I turn away the first kid who needs help? Where would my brother be if he'd been turned away when he needed it?”

“But, Haley—” Marlon met her stubborn gaze and slid the kid a wary look while trying to think of something to change her mind. “He's a total stranger. Bad things happen, even in Thunder Canyon.”

“No one knows that better than me.”

“Look, I didn't mean to—”

“Don't worry about it. The thing is, I'm a pretty good judge of character,” she insisted. “And, if you're worried, you can follow me home.”

No, he really couldn't. Not legally. “I don't have a car,” he hedged.

“No wheels?” the kid said. “That's harsh.”

“I didn't think I'd need any,” he defended. “And if I did, I could borrow a truck from my dad's construction company.”

“Well, I don't want to drive you back to town just because you have big-city induced trust issues,” she said.

“I'll sleep on your couch.”

She glared at him for several moments, then nodded, apparently getting the message that he wasn't backing down. “Roy can sleep on an air mattress in Austin's room.”

“Okay.”

That was a lie, Marlon thought, because nothing was okay. A night on her couch was the last thing he wanted but he couldn't let her drive out to her place all alone with a kid she didn't know anything about, and a runaway to boot. Damn this protective feeling. It was darned inconvenient.

It wasn't bad enough that he'd sat in the dark with her
for hours, wanting to kiss her. Now he'd be spending the night under her roof.

On the other hand, it was the least he could do. She didn't just talk the talk. She walked the walk and was willing to put herself out there to help a kid in need. She was a really good person in addition to that sweet, sexy thing she had going on. She wasn't a taker, but a giver and for reasons he couldn't put his finger on, he found that incredibly appealing.

Marlon had a feeling he wouldn't actually get any sleep on her couch—and it had nothing to do with whether or not it was comfortable. Spending the night under the fascinating do-gooder's roof would give him ideas that would test a saint's will power.

And he was no saint.

T
he next morning, Haley sat in a booth at The Hitching Post next to Marlon, with Roy across from them. This place, with its cowboy ambience and distressed hardwood floors, was home away from home to her. Manager Linda Powell had given her a job when she badly needed one and that bought a lot of loyalty.

Since no wall separated the restaurant side from the bar side, she was glad that Roy's back was to it. Over the original bar from the 1880s saloon was a picture of owner Lily Divine wearing nothing but gauzy fabric strategically placed to keep her from being completely indecent. There was a better than even chance the teen had seen nude female pictures before, but it wasn't happening on Haley's watch.

She would have fed these two at her house, but cold cereal and toast were not the sort of comfort foods to inspire a troubled teen to loosen his tongue. Breakfast here where
she worked was the plan because she'd heard that the way to a man's heart was through his stomach.

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?”