Heiress for Hire (Cuttersville #2)(31)
Author: Erin McCarthy

"I’m not that familiar with her family tree. I played with GI Joe. And a lot of times I just played in the fields." His childhood had been one of both utter wild outdoor freedom and farming responsibilities from the time he could lift a bucket.

"GI Joe is sexy. We should get one of those for Piper instead of a Ken. He’s too manicured, too narcissistic. That smarmy smile he wears says it all—he’s out for number one."

"But Ken is cultured. GI Joe is rough around the edges." He would have thought Amanda would go for the expensive clothes, thousand-dollar watch, fancy car kind of guy. Like Boston Macnamara.

Her mouth had slowly sunk open, and her tongue trailed across her bottom lip. "Sometimes a woman wants a real man, one who could protect her from danger with his bare hands. One who could just pick her up off her heels and carry her to his bed."

Danny liked to think he was a real man. He certainly wasn’t the aggressive, successful, wine connoisseur type.

This was either flirtation or she’d given a hell of a lot of thought to the social and sexual dynamics of inanimate eighteen-inch dolls.

Piper ran back into the room, saving him from a reply.

"Have fun with your wedding planning. I’ll be making hay in the north field." He backed up and tried to beat a fast retreat.

"I’ll let you know if the lawyer calls."

Oh, right, the whole reason he’d come in the house. "Thank you."

"I’ll stand in the yard and wave a scarf or something so you can see me as you go by on your tractor. You know, communication would be a lot easier if you’d just get a cell phone like every other person in America."

He was perfectly content without one, like every person in America had been before the things were invented in the first place. He gave her a grin. "But then I wouldn’t get to see you standing in the yard waving a scarf like a weird car commercial. Bye, ladies."

Danny waved at them on his way out as Amanda gave a healthy snort. What she thought was weird was that Danny didn’t seem to need or want all the electronic devices and conveniences Amanda could have sworn she couldn’t live without six weeks earlier.

He was content to live on his farm, sweat all day long, then return to a small house with no air conditioning.

It even went beyond content. Danny Tucker was happy, in a way that Amanda had never been.

She had everything in the world money could buy, but she hadn’t figured out how to make herself happy. She hadn’t figured out how to make someone care about her, love her, in the way that Danny already cared about Piper.

Of course, Piper was easy to love. She was quiet, respectful, eager to please, compassionate, and sincere in her appreciation. She had seen too much, heard even more, known pain that an eight-year-old shouldn’t.

Yet her old soul marched side by side with youthful innocence, and Amanda was getting attached to her.

If she did one useful thing in her life, bringing security to Piper’s world would be it.

"What happened to your doll’s hair? Did you or Anita give her a haircut?" Amanda didn’t think it was odd that Piper had an imaginary friend. Something told her she had had one at one time too. A little girl who got messy and dirty and urged Amanda to roll in the grass regardless of her Easter dress that had an Italian label, young lady.

Piper shook her head. Then she chewed her lip, tears suddenly forming in her eyes. "My cousin did it. She’s ten and really mean."

"I’m sorry, sweetie," Amanda whispered, her heart clenching at the sight of Piper, usually so stoic and proud, giving up the first tears she’d seen from her since she had arrived in Cuttersville. "Cousins can be like that. I have a cousin, Sterling—which is an awful name—who used to throw my favorite doll down the stairs."

And Sterling was now married to the ugliest man in creation, twenty years her senior, because she’d blown her inheritance by twenty-five and Richard was filthy rich. But he was also lecherous and criticized Sterling’s butt firmness at dinner parties, so Amanda couldn’t be angry with her anymore. Her life was a horror film.

"Jasmine said she just made her look like me."

Amanda frowned. "What do you mean?"

Piper looked away, hesitated. Then she locked eyes with Amanda. "Can I tell you a secret?" she said in a ragged whisper.

"Of course. I won’t tell anyone, ever. Pinky swear." She held her pinky finger up, heart racing, hand trembling. God, she hoped she had the ability to deal with whatever Piper was going to tell her. She did not want to hurt this child anymore than she already had been.

Swallowing hard, Piper pointed to her head. "I don’t have any hair. It started falling out two years ago, and now there’s just a little bit left."

So that explained the constant presence of the baseball hat. And the sometimes naked need for approval on Piper’s face. She strove to be casual, not betray Piper’s trust with gushing pity that wouldn’t help make her feel better. "Why did it fall out?"

"Stress." Piper shrugged her shoulders. "Though I’m not really sure what that is. Mark said the doctors were full of shit, that they just didn’t know what was wrong with me. And he said I can’t go anywhere without the hat, because people will stare at me."

Amanda understood that pain, that hurt, that inability to measure up. The same feelings were mirrored in her at eight years old, and she remembered them only too well, raw and stinging, like sand kicked up in the eye.

"I don’t think that Mark is someone whose opinion matters. He doesn’t sound like a very smart man." Amanda wiped her hands on her skirt and struggled for composure. She ached with the need to hug Piper, pull her into her lap and give her comfort.

But she knew instinctively that would scare Piper, so she just said as calmly as she could, given that her heart felt kicked, "I have a secret too, Piper. Can I tell you?"

The little girl’s eyes widened. "Sure. I can keep a secret forever."

"This isn’t my real hair." Amanda pointed to her own head. "The bottom half of it is fake."

"Really?" Piper asked in awe, her eyes shifting to Amanda’s hair.

"Really. I got my hair dyed different colors too many times and some of it fell out, and the rest got kind of thin. So I wear extensions to make it longer and thicker." Reaching up, she fiddled through her hair until she found the clips attaching the piece to her existing strands.

Weaves were more reliable and blended better," but her stylist had advised against them, thinking they would strain her already damaged hair fibers. So she had little plastic teeth that slid toward her scalp, under the weight of her hair, securing it in place.