Her Montana Millionaire

“I’m no movie star, that’s for sure. But I do a little work with the cattle on my estate and… Well, I have a pretty decent gym on the premises.”

“See. You are my type. You just don’t know it.”

With that she picked up his jacket from the ground, loaded it in his arms—filling them with something that wasn’t half as good as Jinni would no doubt feel—and left, walking ahead of him.

After shaking his head, he followed, watching the swivel of her shapely hips as she pulled her cape around her.

The dark orange palette of morning lazed over the sky while they walked Main Street, sharing trivia such as favorite foods and travel destinations. Jinni had seen much of the civilized world, whereas Max had gone to places he wished he’d never been. Places where children’s bellies balled out of their skeletal frames, even though they were starving. Places where people lived in plank shacks, faces covered by flies that they didn’t bother to swipe away. He didn’t mention this to Jinni, but he’d made a point of donating money in the hopes that something could be done.

But there were so many problems.

As they approached Logan Street, he acquainted her with the subtleties of Rumor. Not that there were all that many. Off to the left, the silhouette of his mansion emerged against the horizon.

“What’s that?” asked Jinni after crossing the street. “A Tuscan village? It’s gorgeous.”

Max went to tug at his necktie, but it was still loose and nowhere near his neck. “That’s my place.”

“Place?” Jinni looked again, eyes wide. “You’re missing a letter. How about p-a-l-a-c-e?”

“It’s home.” Right. The Cantrell Mansion definitely set him apart from most of the others in town. Truthfully, even the Kingsleys, with their ranch-estate across town, didn’t measure up to his riches.

But none of it meant a damned thing with a brother who’d been running from the law for a few months now. Max would’ve given all his wealth to know that Guy was safe and innocent.

Jinni perched her hands on her hips. “What does your son have to complain about? You know, it’s always the most fortunate people who do the most whining.” She laughed, and he thought he detected a trace of irony. “I should know. I grew up with everything my heart desired, except for….”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, the usual. I rarely saw my parents when Val and I were growing up. They were always gallivanting off on some worldwide adventure or another. We had the best education, the best clothes and servants.” A faraway sheen veiled her eyes. “But Val and I only wanted one thing. Parents.”

He took a step closer to her, thinking that she could use the silent support.

“See,” she said, reverting back to her old self. “What did I tell you? Whine, whine, whine. This is something I don’t need to talk about.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s in the past.” She patted her hair, sighing. “Besides, I love my life. Wouldn’t give it up for anything.”

He had the feeling that she didn’t usually reveal much about herself to people, and the fact that she’d shared anything with him was a boost to his ego.

She glanced at his mansion again, a faraway gleam in her eyes. “I didn’t mean to insinuate that you’re a neglectful parent though.”

“That’s okay. I’m not. I know that. If you ask Michael, the opposite is true. I stick my nose in his business too often.”

“Like a good parent should.”

“You’d think. He’d be shocked to know how much pride I have in him, how much I admire what he’s accomplished in his short life. Did you know he won first place at the science fair this year?”