The Trouble With Tomboys (15 page)

B.J. arched an eyebrow. “Tell them what? That we’re
not
getting married?”

“That you’re pregnant,” he corrected, sending her a scowl for her lame attempt at sarcasm.

“Unless...you’ve already told yours. But from the way you talked, I assumed you hadn’t told anyone yet.” She shook her head. “No. I haven’t.”

“Okay.” He nodded. “Then we should do that

together.”

“All right,” she muttered reluctantly. But that was definitely going to be one chore she wanted to 115

Linda Kage

put off.

When she glanced at him, though, and saw the expectant look in his eyes, she winced. “What? Right
now
?”

He scowled. “When exactly did you plan on

telling them?
After
the baby’s born?”

She shrugged a little guiltily. “I don’t know. But putting it off for as long as possible did sound like a good plan.”

Grady sighed. “We can’t put it off now we know the word’s spreading. Our families need to learn from us...especially your side.”

“My side!? Why especially my side?”

“Probably because my folks wouldn’t think twice if they heard you were pregnant. They wouldn’t know it’s mine. But it’s pretty obvious the baby is yours...so, it’s more urgent to tell your side.”

She sighed out a sound of disgust. “God... Fine, let’s get this over with then.”

****

Leroy and Jeb were still at the hangar, working when she and Grady arrived. Buck was gone, no doubt home with his bitchy wife and bratty

daughter.

And Rudy was absent as well, more than likely at some bar, getting drunk off his ass.

Stopping in the doorway, B.J. could feel Grady stumble to a halt beside her. From the corner of her eye, she saw him glance at her curiously, probably worried she was going to chicken out.

But that wasn’t what she did.

He wanted her to make the announcement. So,

she’d announce.

Cupping her hands around her mouth, she

hollered into the huge tin building. “Hey!” she yelled, 116

The Trouble with Tomboys

her voice echoing back to her.

Pop turned, and Leroy set down the blowtorch he was getting ready to use.

“If anyone cares to know. We’re having a baby.”

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Linda Kage

With that said, B.J. turned to stalk off. Grady remained in the wide entrance, staring after her. A clanging of metal sounded from Leroy’s direction, probably him dropping the blowtorch.

B.J. finally glanced back and, yep, her brother was scurrying to pick up his fallen equipment.

“You coming?” she asked Grady.

But the voice of her father shouted out, “Get your tail back here.”

B.J. muttered a curse, closed her eyes, and

turned in Pop’s direction. Grady fell into step beside her. It shocked her just how comforted she was by his automatic show of support. Grady Rawlings might be a quiet, reserved person, giving off the impression he was shy. But he had backbone. He didn’t back down from certain duties, even ones that made
her
want to run for the hills.

“You’re pulling our leg, ain’t ya?” Leroy said, laughing as he glanced from her to Grady. “I mean, you two…” He shook his head and slapped at his knee. “Brat, you couldn’t get a Rawlings to notice you if you stripped naked and—”

“Enough,” Jeb growled and jabbed at his son to shut him up. Then he propped his hands on his hips and glared disapprovingly between B.J. and Grady.

“So...when’s the wedding?”

Grady looked expectantly at her. “That’s what I’d like to know.”

B.J. threw her hands in the air. “We’re
not
getting married.”

“You...you mean it’s true?” Leroy sputtered.

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Spinning to aim an incredulous look at B.J., he said,

“How in the sam hell did you get
Grady Rawlings
to—” “Will you shut the hell up,” she snapped, mainly because Grady was taking a threatening step toward him, which her idiotic brother didn’t even notice.

“I want to know why there’s not going to be a wedding,” Jeb growled.

“Pop, that’s really none of your concern.”

“No, I want to hear this reason too,” Grady said, crossing his arms over his chest and cocking her an arch look.

B.J. growled. Damn. She knew she probably

hadn’t heard the last of his marriage-talk nonsense, but she never would’ve guessed he’d so sneakily enlist the help of her own father.

“Don’t you start with me again,” she groused.

“We already went over this. There’s no reason we should marry. I told you, you can have as much Daddy time as you want. You can—”

“That’s not the same, and you know it.”

“You’re being ridiculous.” She raised her voice.

“We are not getting hitched after one measly night in a hotel room.”

“B.J.,” he said under his breath, risking a quick glance toward her dad, clearly not receptive to the fact Pop was listening to their every word. “Will you just listen to me? I—”

“Hell, no. I’m not going to stand here and listen to you rant and rave like a psycho. We’re not getting married, and that’s that.”

“Guess you two are still working out the date,”

Pop cut in. He eyed Grady thoughtfully before sighing. “I suppose there’s worse out there that could’ve knocked up my little girl.”

For the first time since entering the hangar, Grady looked contrite.

B.J. decided she didn’t like the hold Grady

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Rawlings had on her, because she felt the urge to say she’d marry him just to wipe that miserable look of shame off his face. No, she’d never liked seeing anything suffer, but that trait seemed magnified ten-fold with this man.

“Can we leave now?” she asked abruptly, more uncomfortable with the situation than she ever would’ve admitted. In fact, she’d probably just turn tail and stalk out of there if the obstinate man who’d knocked her up hadn’t insisted on them riding together.

He nodded once and then focused his attention on her dad. “There
will
be a wedding,” he assured him. “Woo-wee, little sister,” Leroy hooted. “You sure hog-tied him around your little finger, didn’t ya?

Who’d a thunk it? You must got a golden—”

“That’s enough,” Grady growled, effectively

making her annoying brother swallow his tongue.

When he glanced at her with an impatient,

restrained anger, she knew it was way past time to skedaddle. She nodded, feeling a hard plop in the base of her stomach. Felt kind of strange watching someone defend her.

Together, they turned toward the exit.

****

homestead before. The thousands of times she’d passed the mansion, she’d always wondered what it was like. Today, she finally found out.

As Grady knocked on the front door, a lump of pure fear settled in the base of her stomach. Telling Pop she was knocked up was one thing. Informing the fancy Rawlings was completely different.

Shoving her clammy hands into her back pockets, she waited behind Grady and forced herself to stand still. The urge to turn and flee was pretty strong though.

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As the door started to open, she held her breath.

She actually expected a maid or butler or something to answer, but when Tara Rose Rawlings herself peeked her head out the door, B.J. almost groaned.

Damn. The Rawlings were home.

“Grady,” his mother exclaimed, her eyes

brightening instantly.

“Mom,” he murmured respectfully as she

reached out to hug him.

“What a delightful surprise.” She hooked her arm with his to draw him forward. “Come in, come in.” As he moved, she finally noticed B.J. lurking behind him. “Oh! I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you there.”

When Grady stepped inside and to the left to let B.J.

in, the two women fell to a stop and studied each other cautiously.

Tara Rose’s smile froze. After blinking back a blank look, she asked, “It’s D.J., right? D.J.

Gilmore?”

“B.J.,” Grady corrected.

A hint of pink highlighted the tops of his

mother’s cheeks. Still smiling at B.J., she spoke through gritted teeth to her son. “That’s what I said.”

“You said D.J.”

His mother finally turned from B.J. to pin her oldest with an annoyed look. “No, I said B...not D.

Don’t question your mother.”

That was when the most amazing thing

happened. Grady grinned.

Both Tara Rose and B.J. gaped.

“Yes, ma’am,” he murmured, all the while

smirking from ear to ear.

B.J. was still thinking he had the most

enticingly ornery look ever when Tara Rose cleared her throat. “Well, let’s not stand in the foyer all day.

Come into the parlor.”

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Linda Kage

Said the spider to the fly.

B.J. shivered but followed mother and son into the next room, where they all three stood,

awkwardly staring at each other as if expecting someone else to break the silence. Tara Rose kept sending curious little glances B.J.’s way, and B.J.

was trying to get Grady’s attention by glaring at him, silently urging him to talk. But he seemed intent at rubbing at a scuff on his shoe with the heel of the other boot.

Finally, he glanced around. “Where’s Dad?”

“He received a call and had to check something in the south field.”

Grady grew alert. “Everything okay?”

“I’m sure it is.” Tara Rose pushed his concern aside with the sweep of her hand. “He’s always getting calls. I’m just glad it wasn’t three in the morning this time.”

She grinned B.J.’s way, probably trying to share an inside joke to make her feel included in the conversation.

But the tense smile B.J. returned had the older woman glancing away and sending her son a

questioning look that asked,
What the heck is going
on
? It was clear she had no idea why her son would come to call, bringing the “Gilmore girl” with him.

“Anyway,” Tara Rose said, clearing her throat.

“Ah…” She glanced around the room as if she had no idea what to do with herself. “Oh! Why don’t you two have a seat? I’ll get us some refreshments.”

Looking eager to leave, she scurried toward the exit. B.J. hoped Grady would decline for the both of them. But he obeyed his mother’s suggestion and started toward a cushioned high-back chair. She would’ve called the other woman back and told her she needn’t bother with trying to entertain them, but she already knew if she tried to talk, nothing would 122

The Trouble with Tomboys

come out except a dry croak.

As soon as his mother disappeared around the corner, B.J. whirled toward Grady, who’d plopped into the chair already. She didn’t want any

“refreshments.” She wanted to drop the news like a stink bomb and get the H-E-double hockey sticks out of there before she caught a whiff of the rotten hang time.

But when she spotted the crushed look on his face, she paused.

“I didn’t realize he received so many after-hour calls,” he murmured to himself. “I never get a call from work.”

The unspoken question,
Why don’t I ever get a
call?
, lingered in the air between them. B.J.

suddenly remembered the nasty words she’d said in Houston.
You make everyone in town uncomfortable
whenever you’re around because you freeze the living
folks out like they should all feel sorry they’re still
alive and your wife isn’t.

He lifted his eyes then, and he looked at her as if he were remembering that exact same line. She opened her mouth to apologize for being such a butt that night, for hurting him like she had. But a rough male voice spoke from behind them.

“Well, well. Be still my heart. If it ain’t that little Gilmore gal.”

B.J. spun around and sucked in a delighted

breath. “Now there’s the love of my life,” she said and surged forward.

Grady’s grandfather, Granger Rawlings, had to be over eighty years old if he was a day. He’d lived in the Rawlings mansion since the moment he’d it built nearly fifty years ago. In a wheelchair now, he’d lost one arm and half a leg in an explosion on the oil field years ago. But she’d always adored the gruff old man. And he returned the affection one hundred percent.

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Where other children had shied away from the intimidating oil tycoon, B.J. had been drawn to him.

She still remembered the first time she’d ever seen him. It had been at one of Tommy Creek’s annual homecoming festivals. Since the Rawlings had sponsored the event, the entire family had gathered around a booth where they passed out free drinks to the townsfolk. B.J. had walked right up to Granger and tugged on his sleeve to get his attention.

“Who stole your arm and leg, mister?” she’d

wanted to know.

Instead of snapping at her for the rude question, he’d thrown back his head and hooted with glee.

Then, slapping at his good knee, he’d urged her to climb onto his lap and commenced to tell her the story of exactly how he’d lost his missing

appendages. She’d found the old timer’s gory account so fascinating, she’d gone back to him every time she’d seen him after that—at Fourth of July picnics, Christmas parades, and Spring dances—crawling into his grandfatherly lap and demanding another story. The man had never failed to entertain her with some type of tall tale.

Knowing she’d disappoint him if she did

otherwise, B.J. plopped down on Granger’s lap now and pressed a loud, sloppy kiss to his wrinkled cheek. He grinned approvingly and tugged at the back of her ponytail. She might’ve gained a good fifty pounds since the first time she’d sat on his knee, but neither of them cared.

“Where you been, darling?” he asked. “I haven’t seen you in years.”

Slinging an accommodating arm around his

neck, she continued to grin into his dancing blue eyes, which she realized were the same hue as Grady’s. “Well, hell, I thought you were long dead by now, old man.”