The Trouble With Tomboys

  “Damn it,” B.J. muttered, scowling at him to hide the guilt of letting her own emotions take over when this was really about him and his misery. “Don’t go saying sad crap like that when I’m trying to disagree with you. I’m not going to back down, Slim. You’re wrong about this, and you’re just making me feel like I kicked a sick dog. So cut it out.”

  “I’m not wrong,” he insisted.

  “We’re not getting married, end of story. Will you wake up and face the new millennium?”

  “I don’t care if it’s old fashioned. A child needs a sturdy foundation. There’s too many mixed families out there with too many messed up kids.”

  She snorted. “Well, it’s going to have me for a mom, so I’d say it’s already screwed there. Sorry, bud.”

  Grady blinked, looking surprised she could say such a thing. “I think you just might surprise yourself on that count.”

  Her mouth fell open. “What? Are you on drugs? What the hell makes you think I’m in any way motherly?”

  Grady stepped suddenly closer to her. When he lifted his hand to set it on the side of her neck, she knew he had to feel her pulse leap under his fingers. Her eyes widened and her lips parted, letting out a surprised puff of air.

  “I want to marry you, B.J.,” he murmured, his face drawing closer to hers. “Why don’t you want to marry me?”

  Though his achingly sweet tone melted everything inside her like butter over hot pancakes, B.J. balled her hands into fists. She wished she could sneer something scathing like, Gee, maybe because this whole marriage idea has nothing to do with me and everything to do with your own sense of morality. But she couldn’t utter the words.

  Strange. She kept finding more and more she was unable to say aloud lately, which was very unlike her. But the truth was, if he really cared about her or the baby, he’d—

  Grady’s fingers curled, and he ran his knuckles over her jaw, watching his own hand caress her as if it was the most intriguing sight in the world.

  B.J. stopped breathing even as she warned, “Don’t crowd me, Slim,” and grabbed his hand, pulling it from her cheek. But, oh wow, that felt good. She didn’t remember to let go of him, and her fingers cradled his warm, thick wrist, wanting to pull it back to her and press his palm against her aching breasts. “You can’t sweet talk me into this.”

  He had the gall to look amused. “I assure you, it never once crossed my mind I could sweet talk the ultimate hard-ass, B.J. Gilmore, into doing anything.”

  When he tilted his head as if he was going to kiss her, she swallowed and tightened her grip on his wrist like that would stop the procession of his lips.

  Meeting his gaze with a stony expression, she said, “You can’t seduce me into it either.”

  He looked startled by the idea. But a moment later, his gaze settled on her lips. He sucked in a breath when she flicked out her tongue nervously to wet them. He was going to kiss her anyway, damn it. This wasn’t good. If he got her on her back, she’d probably agree to anything he wanted, probably even let him coax her into his ridiculous idea of marriage.

  B.J. braced herself, preparing to rebuff his advance and knowing she’d fail.

  But he threw her off track when he quietly admitted, “I can’t stop thinking about Houston.”

  Her thighs trembled, and her nipples tightened. God, but she couldn’t stop thinking about it either.

  “We were good together,” he breathed, tilting his face even closer until their foreheads were centimeters from touching. “And don’t try to disagree with me. I’ll know you’re lying. You liked it just as much as I did.”

  “S-so?” she uttered in a suddenly shaky voice. “Good sex does not—”

  “It’d be a nice little side benefit, though, wouldn’t it?” His mouth was close enough it brushed hers with every few words he spoke.

  “Just imagine it.” His warm breath caressed her face. “Any time you wanted it, there I’d be. You could wake up on a lazy Saturday morning, roll toward me, and take me any way you wanted.”

  She swallowed, helpless but to imagine it.

  “I miss that about being married,” he said, tugging free of her hold on his wrist so he could bring his fingers back to her face. Tracing the bottom curve of her lip, he continued. “I miss knowing someone was beside me to touch and kiss whenever I wanted. But knowing it’d be you would be even more. . .”

  He didn’t finish the sentence, but he didn’t have to. Closing her eyes, B.J. lifted her face in surrender. Grady took her offered lips greedily, drinking the taste of her, straight off her tongue. Groaning, he moved his fingers up into her hair, holding her head steady as he ate at her mouth.

  It’d been over a month since they’d been together. But she could still recall the exact texture of his fingers on her. His familiar smell invaded her nostrils, dragging her under and sweeping her into a quickly rising flood of passion. His hands were hot and sure as he stripped off her shirt in one swift move and cupped her breasts.

  “Ouch, ouch, ouch,” she cried, going stiff in his arms, yet tightening her grip on him and holding on for dear life. “They’re tender.”

  “Sorry,” he rasped.

  She thought he’d leave the swollen members alone. But telling him they were ultra sensitive only seemed to make him more interested. Gentling his touch, he pushed down the cups and gathered the twins in his hands, massaging with a skill that made her suck in a breath and arch against him.

  “Oh, wow,” she breathed out. “Ahhhhhh.”

  She closed her eyes as he kneaded and leaned down to suck one peak into his mouth. And she quickly learned tender breasts not only made them easily hurt but just as easily pleasured. Gritting her teeth, she belted out a stream of curses, thinking if he didn’t get inside her soon, she was going to go off without him.

  Seeming to read her mind, Grady picked her up and carried her to the couch. In a frenzy to unbutton her jeans, he growled out a frustrated groan.

  “I need more hands,” he muttered. “I want to touch you everywhere, all at once.”

  As her pants came undone under his harried ministrations, he paused to place a hot, scorching palm over her stomach, right over their baby. The move jolted her and zapped her back to reality, reminding her how sex would be a really bad idea right now. Too much was still unresolved.

  “Stop,” she panted, covering his hands with her shaking fingers.

  Grady lifted his face but kept his fingers on their unborn child. His eyes had dilated, and the heat she saw in them about made her forget their problems and drag him down to finish what he’d started. It was a little overwhelming to see just how much he desired her. They weren’t in Houston now. She hadn’t liquored him up first and coerced him into doing the unspeakable. This was pure, hot need in its rawest form, coming at her from a man she’d never thought would willingly want her. But. . .

  “This isn’t going to resolve anything,” she said, taking a deep breath.

  She wouldn’t stop him if he pressed the matter. In fact, with the slightest cajoling, she’d probably beg him for more until they were both naked and sweaty and depleted from rippling orgasms. But he seemed to realize the timing was wrong too.

  Blowing out a breath, he lifted his hands from her and scooted to the other end of the couch. After rearranging his zipper to relieve some of the pressure behind it, he slouched down into the cushions and cradled his head.

  B.J. pushed her bra back into place, biting her lip when rough cloth abraded her pouting nipples. Then she went and retrieved her shirt. She noticed he wouldn’t look at her until she slipped the top on and was smoothing it down over her hips.

  “I won’t marry you,” she said.

  His gaze was unreadable. He studied her a moment and then nodded. “I think we should at least tell our families together.”

  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 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.”

  ****

  Since Grady won the argument over telling their families together and right away, he let her drive when she insisted.

  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, 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.”

  Chapter Ten

  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. 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 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.

  ****

  B.J. had never been inside the main Rawlings 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.

  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.” r />
  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.”

  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.”