The Trouble With Tomboys

  “Oh. . .my God,” B.J. murmured, feeling utterly dumbfounded. She sat up as if to escape the realization. This was not what she wanted to hear. “You’ve only been with two different women your entire life?”

  He shifted uncomfortably. “What’s wrong with that?”

  “It’s just. . .Well, hell, I don’t want to have a bigger track record than the guy I’m sleeping with.”

  He arched his eyebrows. “What exactly is your track record?”

  B.J. refused to answer. She glanced away. The answer was nothing to write home about, but it certainly doubled his measly two.

  “B.J.?” he pressed quietly and set a hot palm on her thigh.

  Feeling the need to distract him, she turned toward him and opened her legs in one smooth move, successfully gaining his attention where she wanted it. “If you want to taste me, you’d better get to work, Slim. I might not be so charitable and let you proceed in another few seconds.”

  Not wanting to lose his opportunity, Grady immediately set his hands on her knees and bent down. He was very tentative at first; his tongue was soft and gentle. When B.J. arched and made a sound of pleasure, he paused and glanced up.

  “Am I doing it right?”

  “Don’t stop,” she yelled.

  He sent her a slow, self-satisfied smile and lowered his head again.

  ****

  “B.J.?” Grady whispered.

  “Hmm?” she murmured drowsily, feeling as limp as a noodle.

  Yep, Tornado Grady had struck again. In the last half hour he’d topped their first night together like it was nothing. Three times. Holy crap, she’d had three explosive orgasms right in a row. First from her own ministrations, then from his mouth, finishing with a round of good ol’ fashioned sex. . .with her on top.

  The guy was a Lothario, no question about it. Her time with him—as much time as she was going to get—would be one big roller coaster ride with loops and drops aplenty to keep her wanting more. She was going to love every second of it. She just hoped it didn’t end nasty and—

  “Will you marry me?” he asked, interrupting her wishful thoughts.

  Her brows pulled together. “I thought I told you—”

  She stopped dead when she rolled toward him and saw the ring in his hand. It had a huge white diamond on it and was the prettiest thing she’d ever seen. The thrill inside her about had her launching herself into his arms right then.

  “I bought it this morning,” he said. “I would’ve given it to you sooner, but I think you successfully sidetracked me.” The grin he sent her said he didn’t mind the distraction in the least.

  B.J. found it suddenly hard to breathe. Forcing herself to toughen up, she eyed the amazing ring with cool disdain and snorted. “I hope you don’t actually think I’ll ever wear any kind of jewelry.”

  He merely smiled, a lazy tilting of the lips. “But it’s a wedding ring. Lots of men wear them too. So, I don’t actually consider it jewelry.” He shrugged. “Once you get used to it, you kind of feel naked without it on. Think of it as underwear. It’s just another part of getting dressed in the morning.”

  B.J. sent him a dry look. “Ever heard of going commando?”

  His eyes glittered with amusement. “Married people don’t go commando.”

  She snorted. “Oh, really? And why’s that?”

  He shrugged. “There’s always clean underwear around to wear when you’re married.”

  B.J. threw back her head and laughed. As she was holding her stomach and chuckling, Grady took her hand and started to try the ring on. Immediately, she grew alarmed and curled her fingers into a fist, preventing him from finishing his unwavering task.

  His probing gaze lifted to hers.

  “You don’t want to do this, Grady,” she whispered. “I’m warning you. It’ll just turn into a disaster if we get married.”

  Keeping his eyes on hers and not saying a word, he slowly pried opened her fingers. If his hand would’ve been warm and confident, she probably would’ve fought him harder. But as it was, his cold touch trembled with an uncertainty that tugged at her heartstrings.

  They silently stared at each other as he slid the ring into place. It fit a little snug, making her panic and suck in a breath, thinking it would never come off again. Then she grew even more unnerved because she didn’t really want it off.

  The moment was too intense to suit her. Her pulse leapt uncontrollably, and she felt things for Grady she’d never felt for anyone. But with his chilly fingers still touching hers and the ring banded around her, she experienced a connection with him that was simply overwhelming. Only a person who had never possessed any compassion in their entire life would be able to turn him down at that moment.

  B.J. thought she was doing well with the casual, uncaring shrug she managed. “Fine.” Let the stubborn fool have his way for a little while before he realized how right she was. “But you asked for this. We’ll try the whole marriage thing until it falls through. And when it does—which it will—I’m going to be right there in your face, saying I told you so.”

  Grady nodded. “All right then,” he told her, blowing out a relieved—or was that a petrified—breath. “We’ll get married next Friday.”

  “Next Friday?” she said dumbly. So soon?

  Grady merely sent her a look that said, Well, why wait?

  B.J. swallowed and immediately put on her cool face again, ignoring the leap of excitement in her belly. She gave another unconcerned shrug. “Whatever,” she answered. “This is your thing, Slim. Doesn’t make no never mind to me. We’ll get hitched next weekend.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Grady woke at his usual time Friday morning. He rose and took a shower, just as he always did. Then he fixed breakfast and ate it alone. Nothing new there. An outside observer would assume it was a normal, average day for him. He didn’t appear to be nervous or excited or even regretful about the fact he was getting married in mere hours.

  What he honestly felt was reflective. He’d already visited Amy’s grave the day before and informed her about his upcoming nuptials. He’d left the cemetery with a feeling of peace, confident she would approve of her successor.

  He hadn’t confessed how much he liked bedding B.J. though. Then again, there were a few things he’d never told Amy. . .or her gravestone. . .like the fact he’d blamed her death on her for an entire day.

  Amy had wanted children right away. But typical, reserved Grady, he had to wait a few years. He wanted to build her a house first. Their dream home. And he wanted them to settle into their lives together before adding a new member. So Amy waited with him. . .impatiently.

  The woman had loved children. She’d babysat for not only the Gilmores, but many other families in her younger years, and after high school, she’d gone to college for a teaching certificate. Her life revolved around tending to the young. But Grady had resisted the idea of starting a family so soon in their marriage, and he was able to hold her off for three years.

  Then, one evening, he asked her at supper when she was carrying a hot pie to the table for dessert. “Do you still want kids?”

  Amy spilled her pumpkin special on the floor, she was so excited by his question. She jumped into his lap and started kissing him all over the face.

  “Let’s start now,” she said, instantly ready to go forth and procreate.

  But you know Grady. ‘Right now’ was not a phrase in his vocabulary. Amy was still on birth control. They had to wait until that cleared through her system and her body took over its natural cycle. Then Grady wanted to get them both tested for whatever was necessary, to make sure everything was okay.

  Good wife that Amy was, she let him have his way. Grady’s tests came back fine. He was fertile and full of healthy sperm. Dr. Carl said he was capable of producing fit, normal children. But the shock of all shocks came with his next words as he glanced at Amy and winced.

  “Now, you, on the other hand. . .”

  And thus started years of baby-making hell
. Amy wasn’t barren, but she had internal physical problems. Grady couldn’t even remember all the technical terms the doctor used. It was inadvisable for her to attempt to bear children—that was all he understood.

  So, Grady shrugged and suggested adoption. Amy looked at him like he might’ve just proposed they turn into swingers.

  “I want your babies,” she stated adamantly, letting him know good and well that no one else’s would do.

  “But Dr. Carl said you can’t—”

  “He didn’t say can’t,” she interrupted quickly. “He said shouldn’t.”

  “Then we shouldn’t,” Grady was quick to retort.

  Amy merely held up a hand, refusing to listen to his concerns. “I’m fine. We will have a baby.”

  Grady knew how desperately she wanted a whole gaggle of children—hell, everyone knew—so he gave in, and they began to try. For over a year, they tried with no success. And every month when her period started, Amy fell into a fit of depression. Sex became a duty, and he almost reached the point he regretted having to perform on certain days.

  After four months of fertility implants, Amy called him at work and was so hysterical, he thought she’d been in an accident.

  But when she calmed down enough for him to understand she’d only missed her period, he said, “Is that all?”

  Upset by his lackluster answer, she hung up on him with a loud slam. He called her back and apologized profusely, saying he merely didn’t want to get his hopes up until he saw a positive test. Amy, excited enough for the both of them, demanded he come home immediately, so they could take the test together. He did, and the test was indeed positive.

  She remained pregnant for five months. Dr. Carl put her on bed rest ten weeks into term, and Grady feared he might strangle himself by the time month nine came along. He hated worrying about her. He hated how she could do nothing but lie in bed all day. But Amy positively glowed.

  “It’s only for a few weeks more,” she assured him. “Then the baby will be born, and everything will be fine again.”

  Like a fool, he believed her.

  During month five, Amy woke in the middle of the night with cramps and spotting, and Grady still believed her reassurances as he rushed her to the hospital. But she had a miscarriage as well as emergency surgery to remove one of her ovaries.

  Amy was inconsolable afterward. When the doctor told her he recommended she never try to have children again, she turned her back to him and refused to speak to anyone—Grady included—for a week.

  Things were never the same after that. He stuck by her side, and she eventually returned to the land of the living—or half-living, as he came to know it. But it was obvious the essence of the woman he’d married had vanished. A couple of years passed, and they fell into a new routine, not like how it was before, but Grady remained comfortable and content. He still had his wife; that was all that mattered to him.

  Then his sister, Emma Leigh, turned up pregnant. He should’ve recognized that as a warning sign. But blindly, he assumed Amy was reconciled to the fact babies were not in their future unless they adopted.

  She wasn’t reconciled to any such notion.

  He came home from work to find a glowing, happy Amy waiting at the door with a bright smile and positive pregnancy test in her hand. Gaping at the stick, he turned livid. She’d tricked him, gone against his wishes and stopped taking her birth control.

  That night, the two of them had the biggest fight of their marriage. Grady couldn’t believe she was so willing and even excited about risking her life for a baby they could just as easily adopt. And Amy didn’t understand why he didn’t want his own child, flesh of his flesh, blood of his blood.

  “Of course, I’d prefer that,” he argued. “But it’s just not possible for us, Amy.”

  She laughed bitterly. “If it’s not possible, then why am I pregnant?”

  “You know you’re just going to miscarry again,” he countered. “And then what? It’s going to crush you just as bad, if not more, than last time. I don’t want to go through that again.”

  “So, what do you want me to do? Get an abortion?” She snorted. “That’s not going to happen.”

  Grady gritted his teeth. “You shouldn’t have gotten pregnant in the first place.”

  Glaring at him, she spit back, “Yeah, well, it takes two to make a baby, darling. You sure weren’t arguing like this in the bedroom the night I conceived.”

  Unable to do anything but stand there and seethe, Grady stared at his soul mate, feeling so disconnected he thought he was looking at a stranger.

  “If you don’t want this baby,” she hissed, “I’ll go have it somewhere by myself.” Then she turned and stomped away.

  This time, they didn’t speak for two weeks. Finally, Amy approached him one evening. With a bowed head, she quietly said, “Because you feel so strongly about this, I’ll agree to look into adoption if we lose this child.”

  Grady pulled her into his arms and apologized for being a butt until he started to weep.

  “I’m so scared,” he admitted, burying his face in her hair. “The last miscarriage almost ruined us, Amy. I don’t. . .I can’t even breathe when I think about what would happen if we had to go through that again.”

  “Shh,” she soothed and ran her fingers through his hair. “It won’t be the same, Grady. I swear it. It won’t be the same this time.”

  Once again, he believed her promise. And to an extent, she was right. It didn’t end up like the time before. It was worse.

  Their second child almost made it to full term. Six weeks before her due date, Amy went into labor. And Grady, like any excited, expectant father, rushed her to the hospital.

  Since the baby was breech, they performed an emergency cesarean. Grady was allowed into the delivery room where he watched the entire procedure. But problems developed, complications he didn’t understand from the medical jargon the doctor and nurses used. More help rushed into the room to assist, and Grady was asked to leave. But he didn’t budge. And everyone was too busy to scoot him along.

  He watched Dr. Carl pull the limp, bloody form from his wife, and he continued to watch as they tried to revive the boy through chest compressions. When one nurse shook her head, Amy opened her eyes and asked to see her son. The doctor told her to relax.

  “Just take it easy, Amy,” he soothed.

  Amy’s weak voice repeated, “Baby.”

  Grady took her hand, but she didn’t seem to feel the pressure of his fingers gripping hers because she was too occupied looking the other way and taking in the sight of their lifeless infant.

  “No,” she gasped in a hoarse voice and reached for Bennett. “No.”

  “Amy,” Grady whispered, lifting her hand to his mouth and gently kissing her knuckles.

  His only answer was the long steady beep of her heart monitor as she died. She didn’t fight; she merely looked at her dead child and gave up. Not once did she look at him or ask for him. It was like she didn’t consider him worthy enough to live for.

  It took a while for him to forgive her for that.

  Blowing out a shaky breath, he stared down at the picture book opened on his lap. He blinked when he saw a snapshot of Amy in her wedding dress, grinning up at him.

  Frowning, he tried to recall when he’d left the kitchen and come into the living room to look through his wedding album. But here he was.

  Without thinking, he turned the page. He looked so damn young in those frozen images, and Amy was incredibly alive, glowing like a typical bride. Photo after photo, he flipped through the entire book. She’d wanted a big, all-out wedding. She’d planned every single detail down to those stupid sacks of birdseed to throw. She’s decorated each bag with tiny flowers and colored ribbon.

  Grady shook his head over the memory and winced, leaning forward to study the last picture of their hands, bearing their wedding rings. He’d spent so much time picking out her ring.

  Lifting his face, he realized he hadn’t undergone such
consideration for B.J. He’d walked into the jewelry store and bought the first diamond he saw, thinking it’d do fine.

  Experiencing a pang of doubt, Grady wondered what the hell he was doing. His courting mannerisms for B.J. were pathetic compared to the lavish ritual he’d expended on Amy.

  It didn’t seem fair for some reason.

  But then he frowned and assured himself he had nothing to feel bad about. B.J. didn’t deserve the same treatment he’d given Amy. He’d loved Amy with his whole heart. With B.J., it was just. . .what?

  She was pregnant. They were getting married. End of story.

  Okay, he couldn’t honestly say there were no feelings for his soon-to-be second wife, because desire was a pretty strong emotion. And in truth, he liked being around B.J. It was actually refreshing to be in the company of someone who didn’t pity him.

  For a few minutes there, when he’d thought she’d only slept with him in Houston because she’d felt sorry for him, he’d been devastated. But she’d since assured him none of it had been sympathy sex. He believed her too, because she didn’t act particularly sensitive toward him. Actually, she was the most unsympathetic-acting person he knew. Not that she was cruel and uncaring. But she stayed refreshingly normal, treating him like she treated everyone.

  That was probably why she was the only person with whom he could talk about Amy. She’d didn’t turn all soft, giving him a pitying look and making him want to snarl and snap at her. And though the effect she had on his libido was so intense it was frankly unsettling, he was still able to relax around her more than he had anyone else in the past two and a half years, since neither of them was worried about bringing up his dead wife. In fact, they talked about Amy openly as if she’d actually existed and not just as someone who’d died tragically.

  Realizing how nice that fact was, Grady calmed. He blew out another breath and set the picture album aside.

  “I can do this,” he told himself.

  He could marry B.J. He could start a new life with her. And he could survive past this era of constant grieving.