"I'm not the right woman for you."
"Don't tell me what's right for me."
Whoa. That was a tone she had never heard from good, old, reliable Danny Tucker. He sounded pissed off with a capital P.
"Or do you mean I'm not right for you?" He dropped his arms and made as if to back up.
Amanda took a page from his book and clung to his T-shirt, preventing him from getting anywhere. "No! If anything, you are too perfect for me. You're honest and loyal, hardworking and kind."
"You make me sound like a minister."
Irritated that she couldn't seem to convey herself, Amanda made a sound of frustration. "I mean that I am a spoiled, immature bitch who needs to grow up, and you deserve better than that."
There. That would learn him. It was a very valid and well-articulated point.
"That is complete bullshit."
Or bullshit. "Hey! Excuse me, I think I know my own shortcomings." She dropped his shirt and turned away. She was trying to save him from her. The very least he could do was show some gratitude.
"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.
Chapter 21
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?"