Almost Everything (Destination Billionaire Romance)

by Taylor Hart

  Lily’s mother frowned at him and then turned and yelled over her shoulder, “Lily!”

  Her father threw the door back. He wore a white wife beater shirt. A cigarette dangled from his mouth. He scowled even more deeply than her mother. “I don’t know you, boy.”

  Montana wanted to skitter off like a frightened mouse, but he managed to stick his hand out. “I’m Montana Crew. Pleased to meet you.”

  Lily bounced out in front of them, kissing her mama’s cheek. “It’s fine, Daddy. Love you guys. See you soon.”

  Where everything else was black and white, she was color, from her bright hair to her bold red lipstick.

  Lacing her arm with his, she propelled them down the deck steps and to the motorcycle dirt bike the Givens had let him use.

  Her father yelled after them. “You break your curfew, there’ll be hell to pay.”

  They took off on the motorcycle, and she hugged him tight and hollered, “Faster. Get me away from there!”

  Kicking it into gear, he took them off fast. He loved the way she threw back her head and hooted and hollered. It was the best day of his life.

  They went for burgers, and she prattled on and on about the gossip in Springs Hollow, about her friends, about her plans to be an attorney, get paid a big fat paycheck, buy whatever clothes she wanted, and take down corporations that were evil in the process.

  After they finished their burgers, she smiled at him and asked, “Aren’t you going to kiss me, Montana?”

  Jason hadn’t been happy they’d gone out, and Jason had told him—as a parting shot—she’d kissed a lot of guys.

  Montana had asked, “Has she kissed you?”

  Jason had responded by trying to punch him.

  Montana evaluated her sitting there with her blue eyes happy, challenging. Then, he noticed a brown bruise on her collar.

  Reaching out, he gently grazed it. “What happened?” He wanted to pull the shirt back from her neck and get a better look, but he didn’t.

  Swiping at his hand, Lily stood. “Ignore it.”

  He stood too, picking up their trash. “No.”

  She rushed out, going straight for the motorcycle. “C’mon, let’s go.”

  The begging way she looked at him made him do what she wanted. He got on and she climbed on behind him. He took off.

  “Go to the water tower!” she commanded.

  Five minutes later, they climbed to the top.

  She grinned up at him and closed her eyes. “I’m ready.”

  Suddenly, he was nervous. “How many guys have you kissed?” he asked cautiously.

  She playfully smacked him.

  Putting his hand to his cheek, he stared back her wide grin. “What was that for?”

  “For questioning my morals.”

  “I wasn’t questioning your morals.”

  Then, without hesitation, she put her hands around his neck and pulled him into her. When their lips met, it was like the Fourth of July and Christmas all rolled up into one. Fire and magic. Even though his face hurt, and he thought she might very well be insane, he didn’t mind the kissing one bit.

  When they finished, she grinned back at him, her lipstick all smudged. “You’re my first kiss, Montana Crew. What do you think? Am I any good?”

  * * *

  Now, staring up at her house, his heart raced just like that night. He felt like that day could have been yesterday or two seconds ago. It was strange, he thought, the passing of time.

  Leaning to the side, he slowly got off the Harley Davidson. It wasn’t that Montana wanted to be flashy with his money, but he bought what he wanted now. He could afford it, so why shouldn’t he?

  He arranged his bike. Then he went to her front door and knocked softly.

  Immediately, she flung the door open, and he wondered if she’d been right there waiting for him.

  For a second, their gazes locked, and then her eyes went past him to the motorcycle. She rolled her eyes and handed him her duffel bag. “I thought you might pull something like this.”

  8

  Lily could hardly stand the thought of getting on the hog with Montana. Wasn’t it humiliating enough she had to be his personal “whatever?” Brad hadn’t nailed it down, just told her that she would start by assisting him with clearing up the “key” situation. By the time she’d left work yesterday, she understood she was basically the King’s assistant.

  Right. Not gonna happen. “Just so you know, I have to be let out of my cage for a few days next week to finish a case I’ve been working on.”

  Montana frowned and shrugged. “That’s fine.”

  Glaring at him, she shook her head. “Secondly, just so you know, I’ll be helpful, but don’t think I’m your personal assistant. So fetch your own coffee.” She hesitated, shaking her head, still unable to believe the position she was in. “I’ll meet you at the bike in a second.” She threw the door shut and sucked in a deep breath.

  Not being bothered by Montana was going to be hard.

  She thought of the missing hat, the way his hair hung into his beautiful green eyes. The snugness of his white shirt and his fitted jeans. Did he have to look so good? Really?

  Montana might have been timid and shy when she’d first met him, but now, if the man’s name was any indication of the size of his ego, she thought maybe he should have been named Texas.

  How was she going to do this? When she’d smelled him, she’d gotten dizzy for heaven’s sake.

  Control yourself. Focus on what you want. Don’t think about the past. Focus on the task at hand. The key. Find out where the stupid key came from.

  Breathe.

  She sucked in two long breaths, went to the powder room one more time, and gave herself a good once-over. She was wearing jeans and black boots, a red shirt that made her blond hair look more arresting, and her black leather jacket.

  Annoyed that she was scrutinizing her appearance so much, she hurried through her house, looking for lights left on or anything out of place. Then she rushed back, opened the door, pulled it shut, and locked it.

  When she turned back, he was already on the bike, his legs holding it up. He thrust a helmet at her.

  “No thanks.” She was making a statement that she didn’t do what he said.

  He laughed and turned. The smell of his aftershave assaulted her, and she thought she might go weak in the knees again. “You never make things easy for people you don’t like, do ya, Lil?”

  Getting on behind him, she did the impossible—balancing herself while trying not to touch him.

  He pushed the helmet at her. “Put it on, or I’ll call your firm and tell them I’m reneging on our arrangement.”

  Anger coursed through her. She took the helmet. “Oh, so you’re going to go to your mom every time I’m not obedient?”

  Turning back, those green eyes met hers, and the same shiver she’d felt the day she met him went through her. It was like she was sixteen all over again, and the power of his new-kid smell wouldn’t release her. “That analogy falls deaf to someone like me.”

  She remembered his mom had left when he was young. Very young. He didn’t even remember her, not really, but she wouldn’t buy into the “poor foster kid” act like she had all those years ago. “Everyone has a sad story,” she said in a bored tone.

  He didn’t look back, but she could feel him tense. “Yes, they do.” He started the bike and stuffed a helmet on his own head.

  Slowly, he edged away from the sidewalk. “You better hold on tighter than that.”

  She was surprised to hear his words in her ears. Then she realized it was all hooked into the helmets. “Shut up.”

  He laughed, a deep tenor laugh. It was deeper than it’d been in high school. Fuller. More like the man he’d become. Unfortunately, she liked it.

  “How do I turn off the communication?”

  Montana didn’t answer. He simply took the turn onto the freeway and kicked up the speed.

  Grabbing tighter, she let out a little yel
p.

  She was surrounded by his laughter again.

  Not wanting to be here, but having no choice, she put her arms around Montana’s waist and held tight. Even after eight years, the proximity was as familiar as lying down on her pillow at night.

  * * *

  “Lily! Lily!” Loud whispers.

  She lay in bed, and her eyes flashed open. She jumped up and tiptoed to the window and then giggled. Montana and Jason stood beneath the window, the moonlight shining down on their hidden bodies next to the big oak tree.

  Without giving it a second thought, she unlocked the window and shimmied easily down the piping. Montana and Jason helped her down, but not before she scraped the side of her elbow. Blood instantly sprang out and ran down her arm.

  “Aw,” she said softly, trying to blot it with her hand.

  Montana pulled her arm to him, evaluating it. Then he reached down and picked up a leaf, using it to blot the scrape. “It’s okay.” He gently kissed it.

  The thrill of his touch sent sensations of giddiness through her.

  He winked at her. “You alright?”

  She nodded, and they scurried off.

  They were ecstatic and happy and free and nervous.

  They ran through the trees until they got the motorcycles. She hopped on behind Montana, and they raced through the woods.

  The junior class had a return-to-school bonfire. Always in secret. Always in the middle of the night by the reservoir.

  They sat with the other twenty kids in the class, laughing and joking, and telling ghost stories. Before the party broke up, Montana nodded to the bike, and she went with him, pulling away from the group, hopping on behind Montana, and becoming one.

  Moonlight lit the sky, and she didn’t know how long they rode, but she loved the feel of him. His hard muscles beneath his T-shirt, the way they’d both adjust their weight from side to side when they curved around something. To her, motorcycles meant more than hanging out with friends or flying down back roads. She got to be one with him. Freed from the normalcy of life … together.

  Right before dawn, he took her home and kissed her. She clung to him, putting her lips in perfect rhythm with his, loving the way he paused and pulled her back and smiled wide and said, “I’m the luckiest guy in the world.”

  All she knew was she wanted to kiss him for the rest of her life.

  * * *

  Less than an hour after leaving Billings, Montana pulled into Springs Hollow. He slowed in front of the motel. The only motel in town.

  When they got off the motorcycle, she handed him the helmet. “I don’t know what you need, but when I come to Springs Hollow, I see my mama first. I’ll be at the care center.”

  “Your mama’s in the care center?”

  She paused and turned back. “The average life span of Alzheimer’s patients is five years. In her sane moments, she refuses to leave Springs Hollow. Unlike some people who couldn’t get away fast enough.”

  She didn’t know why, but it felt good to see the way he flinched. Part of her just wanted to hurt him. The same way he’d hurt her.

  9

  When Lily thrust the helmet into Montana’s arms and stalked off, he wanted to throw himself after her and apologize for not knowing about her parents. She’d mentioned it yesterday—her dad dead, her mother out of her mind. He’d been so consumed with her he hadn’t even thought about where her mama was. Something inside of him started to tremble as he’d shot past the Springs Hollow town sign.

  He hadn’t been back since the day he’d ridden off into the sunset, as Lily had so eloquently put it. Maybe coming back was a bad idea.

  There weren’t a lot of things Montana regretted in his life. In fact, as he propped the motorcycle and got off, situating the helmets, he was certain all his regrets resided somewhere in this town.

  He thought of Cindy and Frank Given, and a whole storm of regret pummeled into him. He watched Lily go toward the care center, and the rest of the regret settled into his stomach. He felt sick. Thinking about Jason on top of it was too much.

  First things first: he’d get checked in to the motel and then get on with everything. He didn’t know how long it would take to do what needed to be done with the key, but he realized there was a lot more to take care of than he’d originally thought.

  He accepted that. In fact, it was the whole reason he’d extorted Lil into having to face it with him—because he didn’t know if he could face it all alone.

  Her comment about fetching the coffee smarted a bit. No, he didn’t think of her as a personal assistant, but there was no way to get her to come without throwing around his money.

  Staring at the clean but weathered motel, he crossed to the front office.

  Thirty minutes later, he strolled into the care center. He took his cowboy hat off and nodded at the care workers. Within seconds, he could feel some of the workers gathering and talking. He was used to it, to being recognized. Here, it felt different. He decided he didn’t want to just wait around. Going to the nurses’ station, he asked, “Could I have Sharon Gold’s room number?”

  A nurse with short red hair and glasses grinned at him. “Montana Crew?” She rushed around the counter, her bracelets jingling up her arm. “Do you remember me? I was two years younger than you in school, but I am your biggest fan. I’ve followed your career since your first album, Love on a Prayer.” She sighed and hugged him.

  A bit uncomfortable, but willing to endure, he gently patted her. “Yeah, I remember that red hair. Who could forget?”

  Pulling back, she frowned. The amount of visible blue eye shadow grew with her scowl. “I didn’t have red hair in high school.”

  He laughed, a bit embarrassed. This is what he got for being nice. “Right, I guess I’m thinking of someone else. Sorry.”

  Without missing a beat, she pulled a permanent marker off the counter and put out her arm. “Will you sign it?”

  It wasn’t uncommon for fans to want all kind of signatures on different parts of their bodies, but he hesitated. “I’ll make you a deal. I have some pictures back at the motel. I’ll drop one off tomorrow for you.”

  She squealed and did little hops. “Really?” She thrust the marker into his hand. “Great, but I still want your signature on my arm.”

  He paused before taking the marker.

  “Eloise Lincoln Rowe.”

  “You want the whole name?”

  “Oh yeah, my uncle is Lincoln, and he’ll get a hoot out of it.”

  Twenty minutes later, after other nurses had gathered and requested various signatures, he started in the direction of Sharon’s room.

  He thought of Lily’s father. The mean jerk.

  Anger suddenly surged inside of him, but he pushed it away. Even though there’d never been anything he could do about Lily’s father, Montana had threatened to ram his fist into him countless times over the course of their relationship.

  Pausing outside the room, he could hear Lily’s voice. He peered through the partially opened door.

  Lily sat on the chair, the Bible open on her lap. One hand rested on her mama’s hand. Her mama was lying in the bed, her eyes closed.

  Lily’s voice rang through the room in a quiet whisper. “Behold, what manner of love the Father hath bestowed upon us, that we should be called the sons of God; therefore the world knoweth us not, because it knew not him.” Lily sat back in the chair.

  Montana almost went in, but he stopped when he heard her continue.

  “I don’t know why he wanted me to come with him on this, Mama. I was done with all of that a long time ago. I already made my amends with Jason. Everything was fine. Done.”

  “Everything’s not done,” her mother replied softly.

  Montana could swear he almost stopped breathing after hearing those words.

  “I just have my own life to live, Mama.”

  “You love him.”

  “No.” More tears from Lily as she took her mother’s hand and put it to her cheek, closing he
r eyes. “No, Mama.”

  Her mother pulled her hand back. “Ruth, is that you? Ruth, come into the kitchen.”

  Montana’s heart quickened. He recalled Ruth was Sharon’s sister.

  Lily patted her mama’s cheek and bent over her, kissing her head. “Don’t worry, Mama. Ruth is coming tomorrow.”

  “Ah, Mama, Mama, is that you?”

  Montana saw a tear on Lily’s cheek and watched her wipe it away. The center of his chest tightened. Lily was good. So good. She’d always been this good. He’d just forgotten. Not to mention she had this shield, practically a force field, around her now. It seemed to encase her. He thought of the other night, when she’d coolly dropped off the key. Impenetrable.

  She was brave. There was no debating about that.

  Cindy and Frank Given flashed into his mind, and he realized he needed to be brave too. Turning away from the room, he decided it was time to man up and face them.

  * * *

  Pulling up to the Given property was one of the most emotional things Montana had ever done. He remembered being sixteen, and the social worker bringing him here.

  He remembered, just like now, how Cindy and Frank Given had both miraculously appeared on the deck porch. The one you had to climb to get up to. He’d often complained when they brought groceries home that they had to have their front door at the top of so many stairs. He also fondly remembered eating out on the deck. All of them laughing and talking. The lights that Cindy would string around the deck. The wonderful meals she would prepare. It’d been perfect. It’d been the healing balm for his life.

  The guilt increased, spreading over him like an oozing oil spill. The kind that leaks into the ocean and kills wildlife. Deserved guilt.

  Climbing off his bike, he stared up at his former foster parents. Grief had taken its toll on both of them. The etched wrinkles in their faces were more pronounced. Cindy’s hair, always long and brown, was now grey.