The Trouble with Tomboys (Tommy Creek #1)(32)

Biting the inside of her lip, she tried to think up a way to escape this. Maybe she could flee the country and go live on a beach in Cancun. Yeah, she and her baby could be surfer bums. They could open a bar in the sand—like in the movie Cocktail—and drink margaritas every night of the week. Right.

Except the whole baby and bar mix was taboo. Shit.

Or...or…hey, she could convince Grady it wasn’t his. Now, there was an idea. Since Ralphie had been spouting off about skinny dipping, Grady probably already thought she had a pretty active sex life. She could say she’d been seeing some other guy in the next county over.

She’d have to lie about the date of conception as well and claim it was undercooked when it came out early. Or maybe she could make up an affair before their time together, which would make the kid overcooked. Either way, it didn’t matter. The lie would be totally worth it to keep him from this kind of trauma. He’d buy her story because he’d want to.

He wouldn’t want to worry about raising a child who wasn’t Amy’s.

On the other hand, she’d be keeping him from his baby if she did that. And Grady Rawlings was one responsible fellow. He’d want the truth, and he’d insist on doing something about it. If he made a mistake, he lived up to it. He’d have to be a part of the baby’s life and would want at least partial custody.

God, but wouldn’t that be fun working through a custody battle with a high and mighty Rawlings?

Not only was Grady going to hate her, but every member of the community would too for messing with the sacred Rawlings family. With his surname 97



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being hallowed in these parts, it was even more of a horror he’d been chosen as the next leader of the Rawlings Dynasty. Who wouldn’t think she’d trapped him into parenthood for a shot at his money?

B.J. groaned and rubbed at the aching spot in the center of her forehead. She had to tell him, no matter how awful it was going to be. There was no other logical, moral-minded choice. The big question was, how was she going to do it?

Hey, Slim, I’m pregnant. So...have a nice day.

Or, maybe...

Remember that one night in Houston when I

attacked you and we did it without a condom? Twice.

Yeah, well...oops.

Shit.

There was no easy way to break the news.

****

Grady knew B.J. was trying to reach him. He’d

seen her name flash across his caller ID twice now.

And he’d been home both times. On her first call, he’d been too stunned to answer.

Well, maybe stunned wasn’t quite the right

word. Yeah, at first there was shock. Why in the hell would she call him? By rights she should think he was a bastard because he hadn’t contacted her. But then the tingling apprehension set in. She was on the phone, and if he picked up, he’d hear her voice. If he heard her voice, he had a feeling he’d probably wind up in bed with her before the night was over.

Knowing that was exactly what his body craved, he wondered if that was really what he wanted. It still felt too soon. He didn’t like rushing his decisions, and this especially was something he needed to think through...completely. Starting an affair with B.J. Gilmore would be complicated on all sorts of levels. But from the way his blood hummed through his body at the mere knowledge she was 98



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seeking him out, patience and deliberation suddenly didn’t seem like such a great virtue.

Before he could make the decision to talk to her or not, his answering machine picked up. Amy’s voice clicked on, telling the caller to leave a message, and B.J. disconnected, which was probably for the best because hearing Amy when he’d been all gung ho for a taste of B.J.’s voice had filled him with a guilty bee, buzzing through his system with stinging awareness.

He wasn’t sure why he’d never bothered to

change the old message. It was macabre to keep a dead woman’s voice like that. But deep inside, he just couldn’t relinquish what little he had left of his wife. He’d never hear her again if he destroyed the recording.

Grady hadn’t given a damn what anyone else

had thought about it until B.J. tried to call.

Wondering if she considered him pathetic, he brushed his fingers over the phone where a

recording of Amy’s words lay trapped for all eternity.

The quandary of whether to delete her greeting washed over him briefly before he finally decided against it and turned away.

The next night, however, when the phone rang again, Grady’s muscles tightened with tension, and he hurried to the caller ID to see if it was B.J. It wasn’t like he never got phone calls. His family was constantly ringing him for all types of reasons. But instinctively, he knew it was her.

When he saw her name appear on the screen, he answered the phone without thinking, not wanting her to hear Amy’s message again. But as he pressed it to his ear, he realized, oh hell, now he had to talk to her.

The greeting he gave sounded brusque and rude, even to his own ears, and he winced, hoping he hadn’t scared her off. But when he heard the click on 99



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the other end, his heart gave a violent shove against his ribcage. Shit. He had scared her off.

He closed his eyes and tried to decide if this was a good thing or not. As he ran his fingers through his hair with one hand, his thumb hovered over the call-back button. When he wondered what he’d say if she actually answered, he blew out a breath and set the receiver back in its cradle.