The Trouble with Tomboys (Tommy Creek #1)(30)

In the blink of an eye, all the bitterness and anger he’d been feeling for the tomboy evaporated.

Suddenly, he was very glad she’d prodded him into her hotel room.

****

B.J. was late to work the next morning. Not that there was any kind of set schedule around the Gilmore Hangar, but she usually showed up before eight. This morning, though, she slept in for some reason. Stranger yet, she’d gone to bed early the night before. When she’d finally opened her eyes, she hadn’t felt like moving. Thinking she was probably 90


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getting a nasty summer flu, she pushed herself up and took a long, hot shower until she worked out the soreness in her muscles.

But as soon as she started the coffee for

breakfast, her stomach rejected the smell. So, she dumped out what she’d brewed and fixed herself a couple pieces of dry toast.

On the drive to work, she frowned, wondering why she didn’t have a sore throat. Experimentally, she coughed and then pressed her fingers to her larynx, but her windpipe wasn’t even raw. Then she sniffed through her nose and frowned. None of her nasal passages were congested. It was just her stomach going to town with a nasty cramp fest and a strange dizzy feeling, making her continually lightheaded. She wasn’t achy like she usually got when she was sick, but she sure felt tired.

It made no sense. What was even more

confusing, she started to recover by the time she hit the airport. Shaking her head in bemusement, B.J.

parked her truck and started for the hangar. She veered toward the office so she could check the day’s schedule. She had a few aerial pictures she wanted to take, but other than that, she didn’t remember any particular runs that had to be made.

The second she opened the office door, however, where her father was already seated behind the desk, the smell of freshly brewed coffee hit her like a twister attacking a trailer park. The aroma went straight to her gut and started the uneasy feeling all over again.

Covering her mouth, she pushed inside and

plowed her way to the bathroom. Five minutes later, she exited on unsteady feet and glared at the coffee machine as she headed toward the water cooler.

“Weren’t you scrawny yesterday too?”

B.J. nodded and guzzled water, mopping at her face when some spilled over the brim and dribbled 91



Linda Kage



down her chin.

“Well, you pregnant or something?” Pop asked.

B.J. stopped drinking, lowered the cup, and

stared at her father. A sudden vision filled her of Grady levered above her, straining as he said, “I want slow.” Her mind had been so busy on trying to speed him up, she hadn’t even worried about protection.

“Damn, Pop,” she murmured, running a hand

over her suddenly clammy face. “I hadn’t even thought of that.”

He scowled and pulled a can of chew from his back pocket. “Well. You been with a feller?” he asked as he flipped the lid and pinched out a finger full of tobacco.

She nodded, not able to meet his gaze as she silently answered.

“Use rubbers?”

B.J. gave a slight shake of the head. She risked a brief glance his way and watched him tuck the chew in his cheek and then wipe his hands on his pants.

“Well,” he said and sighed as if he was too old for this. Frowning disapprovingly, he started in.

“What’d I always tell you about protection, girl?”

“I know, Pop,” B.J. muttered in absolute

mortification. But, hell. It had been years since she’d gotten any lectures on sex from her father. He’d never had any prejudices about her being female.

He’d line her up with her brothers and give her the same exact speech on safe sex he gave the boys.

“I know,” she repeated quietly and closed her eyes. “I just...this was different.”

He made a sound that said he’d heard that line before and didn’t buy it. “Was it that Smardo boy then?”

“What?!” B.J. burst out. Her eyes flew open, and she whipped her head up to stare at him in horror.

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“God, no. What in the world made you think—”

The facts struck her, and her mouth dropped

open. Feeling her face heat, she glanced away and wiped at her mouth. “Guess you heard about that little scene with him in the diner yesterday morning, huh?”

“Guess I did,” Jeb answered.

She could feel him trying to crawl into her brain and figure out who might be responsible for a possible pregnancy, but B.J. wasn’t about to tell him anything. Not yet. She wanted to make sure it was true first.

“If it wasn’t Smardo, then who’re we talking about here?”

B.J. refused to speak. She refused to even think of the person they were talking about. Not yet...not until she had all the facts. She’d already caused Grady Rawlings to suffer enough in the past month.

She wasn’t going to throw his name around until she was certain. And probably not even then.

“Well, then...tell me or don’t tell me. It don’t matter none,” Jeb said with suddenly tired-looking eyes. “You still got a situation here to deal with. So, I’d say you best get yourself checked out and see if there’s a bun in there or not.”