Heiress for Hire (7 page)
"You two need to calm down and use these carts correctly. This is a family store. We can't have you running around crashing into things. Someone might get hurt."
Amanda focused on the little nametag pinned to his blue shirt. "Sorry, Jeffrey. It was just an accident."
Jeffrey didn't look appeased. He gave her a stern finger shake. "Do it again, and we'll have to ask you to leave."
Was he serious? "I can get kicked out of Wal-Mart for exceeding the cart speed limit?"
Danny cleared his throat. "Uh, Amanda, let's just finish our shopping."
"Absolutely, we can escort you to the exit. We want our shoppers to feel safe here."
Her shirt had ridden up to her breasts, and Amanda yanked it back down toward her belly button. "Alright, sorry. We'll just be on our way."
"Is that a dog?" Jeffrey asked, looking outraged as he peered around her.
"No." Baby was so much more than a dog. She was friend, confidante, pure-bred poodle…
Amanda turned around and shot Danny a look. "Back up," she hissed.
Danny whipped the cart out of the aisle, and they walked off at a fast, though sedate, clip.
"Well, life lesson here."
"What's that?" Danny didn't look annoyed with her. In fact, he was struggling not to grin.
"Don't ride the carts in Wal-Mart, of course." She tossed her hair back. "Though it would have been kind of fun to tell people that. 'I got kicked out of Wal-Mart on my summer vacation.' By Amanda Delmar."
"Are you in school still?" Piper looked horrified by the thought.
"No. I got a bachelor's degree in Art Appreciation from the
"Oh," said Piper.
"Wow," said Danny. "That sounds impressive."
"Impressive, but utterly useless." Though she had to admit it wasn't really her degree that was useless. It was more like she had never actively pursued a usefulness for it.
"Couldn't you work in a museum or something?"
Farmers just thought they knew everything. "But then I would be spending all those hours locked away with canvas and oils. It would really cut into my shopping time."
It was a typical Amanda answer. The type that made most people laugh. The answer that would have her father gnashing his teeth together.
But Danny tilted his head and stared at her, his eyes too know-ing, too probing. Like he could see the lie. Like he understood. They had reached the toy department, and she didn't wait to hear what he might have to say. Whatever it was, she was sure she didn't want to hear it, and she didn't want him to look too closely at her. He might be shocked at what he found.
"How much does this shampoo cost anyway? The bottle is huge." She stuck it under the price scanner at the end of the aisle and watched the price pop up on the screen. "Whoa, is this thing accurate? It says the shampoo is only ninety-nine cents."
An eyedropper of Amanda's shampoo cost more than that.
"That sounds about right to me."
"Are you serious?" Amanda stared at the bottle in her hand. "This thing's huge! That's like a penny a shampoo! Does the president know about this? No wonder the economy sucks; they're giving stuff away for peanuts at Wal-Mart."
Danny cocked his head. "Well, how much does your shampoo cost?"
"I think about forty bucks. I'm not really sure." Drawn by the lure of hot pink, she headed down the Barbie aisle. "Look at this! It's Barbie and Ken as Star Trek characters. That's hilarious."
She tossed it in the cart, annoyed that Danny had flustered her without really saying a word. He just looked at her, with those steady, logical eyes, and she felt like he saw through the Amanda facade.
"I'm not buying that for Piper—it's goofy-looking."
"It's for me. Piper can pick out her own. Look, Barbie has fishnet stockings and one of those little communicator things."
"Get this one instead." Danny held up a Barbie with long straight blond hair, a red mini skirt, and a faux Burberry handbag with a little dog sticking out of it.
"Who is she supposed to be?" This one just looked like an everyday kind of doll to Amanda.
"I think this is Heiress Barbie. She looks just like you." Danny grinned as he lifted Piper down out of the cart.
The kid went down on the ground and started peering at the Equestrian dolls.
"Here, let me see her," Amanda said, holding out her hand.
Danny gave her the box.
She whacked him on the arm with it. "Watch your tongue. Her bag is fake. I would never carry fake."
Danny laughed. He threw his arm around her shoulder and gave her a shake that nearly sent her sailing off her shoes. "Honey, you're a one-of-a-kind, that's for sure. Just plain original."
Growing up an only child, Amanda had never experienced roughhousing with siblings. Nor had she ever been with a lover whose moves weren't calculated, skilled. Danny's touch was just friendly, casual. Nice. It actually felt nice in a strange, aw-shucks kind of way.
She added Knock-Off Barbie to the cart. "I think I'll get her just to feel superior."
"How you going to pay for that? I thought you were out of money." Danny's smile faded into concern. "Maybe you should be saving your cash for food."
Oh my God. He was right. She had forgotten she was poor. She was so used to spending money like there was a steady supply of it that it had never occurred to her that she couldn't have whatever she wanted in this store. Fifty-seven dollars was the sum total in her wallet and all that stood between her and starvation.
And while staying thin was a priority in her life, she had to eat something.
There was no money for a Barbie, Star Trek or otherwise. Or an umbrella and little Hello Kitty Post-it notes.
Giving a laugh that she hoped sounded more genuine than it felt, she put the doll back on the shelf. "You're right. I completely forgot that I'm destitute." And that she was a little bit scared. Who was Amanda Delmar without her trust fund?
"What's destitute mean?" Piper asked, looking up from the Breyer pony she was studying.
"It means I don't have any money."
"I don't have any money either," Piper said with a shrug.
This laugh was more genuine. "Then I guess we'll be destitute together."
"Well, I'm not destitute," Danny said. "It would give me a great deal of pleasure to buy you both a Barbie."
"Why?" Amanda asked in suspicion. She hadn't even flirted with him. Not much anyway. And he wasn't hinting that he could think of a lot of ways she could pleasure him in return. That was the way it usually went. Men spent money; men wanted something—sex, power, her inheritance. They always wanted something.
It was why her favorite T-shirt said I THINK, THEREFORE I'M SINGLE.
He shrugged, studying her a little too carefully. "I just want to, that's all. Do I have to have a reason to want to buy you a Barbie?"
If she were any judge of character—which was questionable, given Logan—Danny had no ulterior motive. He was just being nice.
Danny Tucker didn't fit into her understanding of men. He was an anomaly. A big one. In boots and a baseball hat.
"You don't have to do that, Danny. It's a waste of money to buy me a doll." For the first time, maybe she could understand that. Money could be spent wisely on necessities, or frivolously. A Barbie for a twenty-five-year-old woman with no income was beyond frivolous. It was a cry for counseling.
"Which would you rather have—the umbrella or the Barbie? Because I'm buying one or the other." Danny leaned on the handle of the cart, his green T-shirt pulling forward at the neck. "Think of it as a gift for being my personal shopper."
"But you don't need a personal shopper," she whispered, feeling raw and vulnerable in a way that she just detested. "You can dress yourself."
He nodded, slow and sure. "And undress myself." He grabbed the Barbie box she had returned to the shelf and added it to the cart.
"I don't know what to say." He was making her extremely uncomfortable.
"Seems to me you ought to just say thank you and be done with it." He cocked a grin and winked.
Smart-ass, she mouthed to him so Piper couldn't see.
But when he laughed, she said, "Thank you."
And popped her umbrella back open and strolled up the aisle.
Willie Tucker was licking the salt off a margarita when her cell phone rang. She and the women in the church traveler's group were having a nice, late dinner at the local Mexican restaurant after a day touring the basket factory. She should have turned off her phone when she came into the restaurant. It always drove her bonkers when people were chatting on those things while they were sitting with other people.
Besides, no one would be calling her but her husband, Daniel. Or Danny, though that would be rarer still. And only because of an emergency.
Damn. She dug out her phone, hoping if someone had died it was her brother Bart. Never could stand Bart.
Caller ID showed it was Daniel, alright. "Excuse me, ladies, it's my husband, and I'm afraid it might be something important."
"Unlike when my husband calls," Karen Ditko laughed. "I set foot out of the house, and suddenly he's helpless as a baby."
Daniel wasn't like that. They'd been working the farm together for thirty years and didn't run to each other for foolishness. Her heart picked up its pace.
"Hello?"
"Hey. You busy?"
"I'm having dinner with the girls. Anything wrong?"
Daniel paused, and Willie gripped the edge of the table.
"It's nothing. I just thought maybe tomorrow you might want to skip the afternoon shopping and come on home early. Something's popped up with Danny."
"Why?" Her fear turned to annoyance. Daniel wasn't usually cryptic. "What's the matter with Danny? He sick?"
Not that she could imagine Danny getting sick or laid up. He was as healthy as their soybean crop this year. He was a good boy, too, but she knew he was getting a little restless lately. Lonely. She hoped he hadn't done anything stupid. Like get involved with that blond piece of work who'd blown into town with Boston Macnamara.
Willie wasn't blind. She could see that those long legs had drawn Danny's attention. Danny and every other man in town under the age of ninety.
"Not exactly. He just has some news."
Why the hell was her husband being so guarded? Danny was either dying or his house had burned to the ground. It had to be a disaster, plain and simple, for Daniel to sound like he did. Like he'd been kicked in the family jewels. "What news?"
"I think this is the kind of news that Danny needs to tell you himself."
Oh, God, Danny had run off to Vegas with the blonde. "Daniel, I think you've lost your mind. You cannot call me and tell me Danny has news and expect me to wait until tomorrow afternoon to find out what it is. Tell me. Now."
She took a fortifying sip of margarita, bracing herself for the fact that her child might be dying. God, she couldn't lose her son. He hadn't even given her grandbabies yet, for crying out loud. Didn't that rate special consideration?