She blinks. “I’ve never even thought of it as a real possibility.”
“If it were.”
She’s quiet for a moment. “I’d donate it. All of it. I don’t want anything from my family, including their money. But I’d rather it do some good somewhere instead of fund my sister’s vacation home or line the pockets of some private equity vultures.”
I take another slug of bourbon and look out at the mountains and think,why not? Why not be reckless?
Life is short.
I learned that the hard way.
Lila deserves to take that money and give it away if she wants to. And I happen to be conveniently available and I’m leaving in less than a year anyway, so there’s a built-in exit that won’t hurt either of us.
That’s all it is.
I look at Lila. Twenty-five years old, all alone in the middle of Montana.Building a life from scratch after rejecting her family’s money and manipulation. Not a lot of people have the strength to walk away from golden handcuffs like she did.
How many years has she spent handling things alone? Gotten so good at it she’s stopped relying on anyone else to help her?
I can’t imagine how painful it must be to have to cut off your own family because they’re so toxic.
My gaze snags on her bare ring finger where she’s got her arms wrapped around herself.
Seeing her hug herself like that, it activates my protective instincts again.
This girl stopped on the side of a road for an injured dog. She’d donate five million dollars without blinking. She’s on her own since she was eighteen, but it hasn’t hardened her. She’s soft-hearted and so beautiful, and very much alone in the world.
She deserves someone to stand by her side.
“You should collect that money,” I say.
“Not gonna happen.”
“Why not?”
“I have until the end of October to get married.” She gives me a look. “I don’t even have a boyfriend.”
“You don’t need a boyfriend,” I say. “You need a husband.”
Her eyebrows lift. “From where? The feed store? Do they have an aisle for that?”
I nearly smile. “You can look closer than that.”
The wind moves her hair across her face and she doesn’t push it away. So I do it for her, my rough fingertips barely grazing her cheek as I tuck it behind her ear, and I feel her breath catch at the contact.
“Lila,” I say. “Let’s get married.”
Chapter 9
Five Million Reasons
LILA
“Slade,” I whisper. “Did you fall off a horse earlier today? Did someone slip something into your coffee? Are you feeling dizzy? What year is it? Who’s the president? How many fingers am I holding up?”
“Trick question,” he teases. “You’re not holding up any.”
“Slade.”
