"No. Obviously you don't. As far as I can tell, your only shortcoming is low self-esteem."
"Low self-esteem? Excuse me?" That made her sound so pathetic. She liked spoiled bitch better.
"Yes. You can't see the things about you that make you wonderful. And you exaggerate your flaws."
"You know, Farmer Philosophy, this conversation is going nowhere."
"I want you to stay." He crossed his arms, stubborn, like a little boy who wants to extend his bedtime.
Amanda sighed. She really did love him, in a way that she had never really thought herself capable of. In a complete, unselfish way. She only wanted Danny to be happy.
"Don't tempt me."
Bad thing to say, since he was walking toward her. "We can get a prenuptial agreement, you know."
That stung a bit. "I would never try and take the farm from you!"
Danny stopped dead and started laughing. "No. I meant to protect you, not me. Why the hell would you want a piece of land in the middle of nowhere and some chickens?"
Now that he mentioned it, she wasn't really sure. But there was something so powerful about a place to call home, a piece of the earth that belonged to you and yours. She could see why the Tuckers stayed generation after generation.
"You're the one with money, Amanda, not me, and I just wanted you to know I'm not after any of it. Though I hope you put that money from your dad in the bank. Jesus, I can't believe he was carrying four grand in his wallet."
"He doesn't like credit cards. He wants to feel his money in his hand."
"Well, regardless of how much you have, I don't want it."
"I don't have that much." It certainly couldn't touch Hollywood stars, and Bill Gates's kids would never be calling her for a loan. "When I turn thirty-five or when my dad dies, whichever comes first, I get twenty million."
Danny just stared at her. "What?"
"I get twenty million dollars. My mom gets the rest—the cash, the businesses, and all the real estate."
He was giving her a really strange look. Amanda licked her lips and was sorry she did. She got a tongue full of lip gloss.
"Million dollars? Twenty. Million. Dollars." His hands went into his hair. "Jesus. Jesus."
She was starting to catch on. "Is that more than you expected? It's not that big a deal, honestly. Twenty mill doesn't go as far as it used to, and I don't even get it for nine more years."
But Danny looked green. Like he might turn and pitch his lunch all over Piper's new comforter. "What?" Maybe it was a little bit of a shock, but she didn't think it should make him sick. "Are you okay?"
He shook his head. "No. No, I'm not okay." He squeezed his fists together then dropped them. "You were right. We can't get married. It was stupid of me to think we could."
She didn't understand what had changed. "Danny…"
He moved past her to the door. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up in the first place."
While she stood there feeling run over by a train, Danny paused and looked back at her. "I hope we can still be friends. I do love you."
And he left, leaving her standing there like a total geek. Wish-ing that he hadn't actually agreed with her. She didn't want to have to continue resisting a determined Danny, who insisted he loved her and they could be married and live happily ever together. Resisting would be really freaking hard.
But having him walk away sucked even worse.
Danny mowed down harvested corn stalks with his Kubota tractor, and it felt good. Every crush and crunch and snap made him feel just a little bit better. Every row he plowed reminded him of who he was and who he would never be and why he was just fine with that.
Twenty million goddamn dollars. Jesus.
He had asked a woman who had all that money to marry him and take care of his daughter down on the farm. He wanted an heiress who shopped Michigan Avenue and dropped thousands of dollars without blinking to hunker down on Green Acres with him.
And he had said chickens were stupid.
This was what happened when he didn't take things slow. When he didn't think his actions all the way through or gather all the facts first. He made a fool out of himself and got his heart squashed like a pumpkin dropped on concrete.
He should have kept his dreams and his dick to himself.
Another row hit the dirt with satisfying swiftness.
When he turned the corner, he saw his father leaning against his pickup, staring at Danny. He was wearing dirty, dusty jeans, boots, and a T-shirt—a farmer's uniform.
Danny shifted the tractor to neutral and called, "You need something?"
"Turn that off and get down here."
For a second his heart about stopped. The DNA tests. They were negative. But then he rationalized it had been only three days since the blood had been drawn. There was no way they could have results that fast.
The school assessment had gone well. Piper had scored well enough to be placed in the third grade where she should be. The counselor had suggested therapy, though, to smooth the transition, and given that the pediatrician had recommended it as well, Danny had gone ahead and made an appointment with a family psychologist.
They would probably both need it when Amanda left in a week.
"What's wrong? Piper okay?"
His father spat in the dirt. "She's fine. Your mother and I are taking her into town to get her school supplies. You see that list? It's got about a hundred things on it. What happened to just pencil and paper and get on with it?"
Danny reached for his wallet. "Let me give you some money then."
"No, we got it." His father held up his hand. "You know, your mother and I are really happy to have Piper in our lives. She's a joy."
Feeling that now familiar feeling of pride, Danny shifted. "Yeah, she is."
"And your mother asked her to spend the night at our house tonight—like a sleepover—and she said she wanted to. Hope that's alright. You know how your mother gets."
Danny was a little surprised Piper had agreed, but he nodded. "Sure, that's fine."
"So, while we're all over at the farmhouse, maybe it would be a good time to mend fences with Amanda."
Danny stilled. "What do you mean?"
"I mean you need to patch things up with her if you don't want to spend the rest of your life feeling sorry for yourself."
Leaning over, Danny swiped a milkweed and worked it between his fingers. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"I'm talking about you being in love with Amanda and Amanda being in love with you, but both of you walking around with long faces pretending the other doesn't exist."
They had been avoiding each other pretty industriously, but hell, he was embarrassed. And angry. And disappointed. "Dad, don't go there. Seriously."
"Maybe it's not my business, but when I see my son as unhappy as you are, I'm going to make it my business. Have you told Amanda how you feel about her? Willie and me, we talked, and we think Amanda would make a darn good wife for you."
God, he had a headache, and it wasn't from the sun. "Amanda is rich. She's going to inherit millions of dollars. She does not want to marry me."
"How do you know?"
"She told me!" It still hurt to remember her saying that. "Now I've got to get this straw taken care of. You think we're due any rain? It's been a dry summer."
Erin McCarthy
"You've been sniffing silage, boy, if you think you can turn the subject like that with me."
Though throwing himself into the silo—and letting the toxic gases knock him out—held a certain appeal, it wasn't a good long-term solution.
"What do you want me to say, Dad? I asked Amanda to marry me, and she said no."
"Because of the money?"
Danny frowned. "Well, no, she said no before that all came up. She said she can't marry me because she needs to grow up still."
His father looked thoughtful. "Huh. The girl is smarter than I even gave her credit for. She does have some things she needs to work out, with her dad and all, but there's no reason she can't do some growing right here, with you. Nobody is ever really done growing."
For a split second Danny felt hope but then growled in frustration. "This is stupid. If she doesn't want to, she doesn't want to. What am I supposed to do?"
"Convince her. She wants to, Danny. She's just got herself mixed up trying to do the right thing." His dad adjusted the bill on his ball cap. "You know, you let Shelby walk away from you. I'd hate to see you do the same thing a second time around."
Danny felt his jaw drop. "Excuse me? And what was I supposed to do to keep Shelby with me? Tie her to the bed?"
"That might have worked."
A snort flew out of his mouth. He couldn't believe he was having this conversation. And he couldn't believe his mild-mannered father was standing there and suggesting that he fight for a woman who didn't want him. "So what do you think I should do about Amanda?"
God only knew what his father would say next.
"Seduce her. Willie and I have Piper tonight. Make her dinner, and let nature take its course."
"We're not horses that need to be bred." He was done with this bizarre detour into his father's philosophies on getting the girl.
"You got condoms, don't you?"
"Jesus." Danny turned and headed back for the tractor. Senility had struck early.
Both his parents had lost their minds.
The thought was only confirmed when his mother greeted him at the back door an hour later wearing a T-shirt that said HAVE A WILLIE NICE day. It was outlined by the shape of the state of Ohio.
Despite his black mood, he couldn't help but laugh. "What are you wearing?"
His mother preened, pulling the hem out. "Like it? Amanda got it for me. Ordered it special a couple of weeks ago. Wasn't that sweet?"
"Yes." It was. Damn.
He was hot, tired, sweaty, and he had spent the past hour going back and forth with himself about Amanda until he was dizzy. Maybe his father was right and he should really go for it with Amanda. Convince her that what was important was that they be together because they loved each other.
Then he did a one-eighty and decided that would be about as smart as strolling into the chicken coop naked with corn kernels stuck all over him. Another rejection would hurt just as much.
But when Amanda walked into the room, Piper on her back, Danny knew he had to give it one last try. One last-ditch effort to see if there could be anything between them, despite her money and his lack of romance.
If not—which he was ninety-nine point nine percent sure would be the case—at least he would have one last night with her. One last chance to make love to her, with the whole night to enjoy it.
"Piper and your father and I are about to head out for the store. Can you take Amanda home early?"
Danny tried to catch Amanda's eye, but she was ignoring him, making fake choking sounds as Piper wrapped her arms around her neck to hold on.
"I'd be happy to take Amanda home." And take her clothes off her.