Heiress for Hire (Cuttersville #2)(27)
Author: Erin McCarthy

Danny shook his head, wondering why he hadn’t gotten any of his mother’s drama. She was angry with him, but hey, he was a little miffed with her. She’d crossed the line, yet he knew tomorrow they would be fine. She wouldn’t apologize, but she’d bake him a pie.

"Good night. I love you, Mom."

"Good night, Daniel William, I love you too, and remember the condoms."

Oh, Lord. He didn’t want her to get on her condom kick again. "I will, Mom, cross my heart and hope to die."

"Smart-ass," she muttered as she went down the driveway.

In relief, he heard her car start up. The only drawback to living five hundred feet from his parents. Easy access. Normally, that didn’t bother him—in fact, he liked it, since he enjoyed their company and it gave him a home-cooked meal every night.

But he didn’t like discussing his sex life with his mother. Especially since she seemed to think he was a swinging single, and the truth of it was, he was practically a monk. No one had buttered his bread in a good long while.

Even when he had been doing it on a regular basis, he suspected he wasn’t all that good at it, which was damn hard to swallow. But Shelby had never seemed all that interested in sex with him, no matter how sweet and coaxing and patient he had tried to be. Finally, he had told himself that she just wasn’t as hormonally charged as he was. A lot of women didn’t get into sex as much as guys did. At least that’s what all his male friends claimed.

Yet now Shelby was married to Boston, and she seemed mighty interested in sex. Danny had been privy to some sights he could have done without, including Shelby doing a sultry little grind across Boston’s jock when she thought no one was in the room with them. Danny was absolutely certain Shelby had never mimicked sex with him in public at any time during their five years married.

Which must mean he sucked at sex.

Not an ego boost, that was for sure.

So even if he were crazy enough to think that Amanda might be attracted to him in any way whatsoever, and even if he didn’t have an eight-year-old daughter, he couldn’t have sex with Amanda.

Nothing could possibly be more humiliating than not measuring up, both literally and figuratively.

The kitchen door slid open and Piper came out, wearing her pink pajamas and her ball cap slapped back on her head. He hoped eventually she would feel comfortable enough to be at home with him without the hat, but he wasn’t going to push it. At least she didn’t sleep with it on. He wondered if hair needed air to breathe, like feet. Maybe that’s why her hair wasn’t growing back. The pediatrician had recommended just waiting for now and seeing if a better, stable home environment allowed the hair to grow back. She thought if there was no improvement in six months, they could discuss medication or a hairpiece.

"Hey, baby girl, how was your shower?" He patted his lap, wishing she would just sit on him, just once. Just snuggle against him.

Instead she took the chair next to him and pulled her pj top down over her knees. "Fine. Anita thought the water was too hot, but it was good for me."

The whole imaginary friend thing was a little foreign to him, and he didn’t suppose the rules for that followed normal adult morals. He would not freak that Piper was sharing a shower with a fake female friend.

If she was still doing it at twelve, he’d be in trouble, but for now, it was normal. He thought.

He slung his arm around her, pathetically trying to steal some affection from her. The night was warm, humid, and Piper’s skin glowed rosy from her hot shower. Her cheeks were pink, her shoulder sticky and warm beneath his fingers. He could smell her body wash, a fruity strawberry mix that Amanda had gotten in their Wal-Mart spree. The tips of her fingers were pruney from staying in the water so long.

It was love he felt for her, in a way that surprised him. It was intense, powerful, laced with worry and anxiety, and topped with pride. He loved her, and he would do anything for her.

"How long is Amanda going to baby-sit me?"

"Until you start school." That had been his requirement of Amanda—that she stick it out until the end of August. Then she should have enough money to get home, and he would have had enough time for Piper to get used to her new life. "That’s five weeks from now. And then when you get off the bus, I’ll be here, so you won’t need a sitter."

"I don’t need a sitter at all, you know. Anita and me stay home alone all the time."

He had a hard time swallowing that an imaginary friend would be any sort of protection against fire and abduction.

For the ten thousandth time he wanted to track down stepfather from hell and pound him. "Well, I’m sure you can, but Amanda needs a job, you know. We’re sort of doing her a favor because she’s having a hard time paying her bills."

Piper glanced over at him, rolling her bottom lip completely over the top one. She popped it back with a wet slurp. "She should move in with us. Then she wouldn’t have any bills at all."

Sure, but he would go insane from unfulfilled sexual need. "I think Amanda is used to a lot of space. Our house is kind of small, and I’ve got the extra bedroom set up like an office, with the computer and bookshelf."

"She could share your room. Grown-ups share a bed all the time." She blinked at him innocently.

He wasn’t touching that one. Not even getting close to it. "Do you miss your mom, Piper?" It had occurred to him that maybe there was a valid reason she had bonded with Amanda. Her mother was about the same age as Amanda.

Piper sighed. "I miss her a lot. But she’s dead."

His heart squeezed. "I’m sorry, baby girl, I really am." He tightened his grip on her shoulder, tried to draw her toward him. She stiffened a little but didn’t pull away. "Tell me about your mom. What was she like?"

"Don’t you remember her?"

Danny had memories of a loud, brassy laugh; light brown hair with blond streaks in it; and a healthy cle**age well displayed in a tight T-shirt. He remembered Nina as flirtatious, inviting herself to ride the Ferris Wheel with him, and squealing with fake fear when they rounded the top.

And he remembered getting hot and sweaty, breathing hard in the backseat of his car, fumbling his way over those perky br**sts, and sliding himself into her with more enthusiasm than skill. Not the sort of memories he was willing to share with his daughter. Or anyone, ever.

He had been a kid, lumbering along toward adulthood, confident and overflowing with energy. It had hurt when Shelby had broken up with him, especially since he hadn’t seen what the big deal was, why she wouldn’t just have sex with him. He had felt entitlement toward her body, and so he’d gone and taken that from someone else, and he had made a baby with that girl.