The Trouble with Tomboys (Tommy Creek #1)(33)

The next night, he found himself waiting by the phone. Yeah, he was stretched out in his La-Z-Boy, sipping iced tea and watching NASCAR, but he brought the dang receiver into the living room with him and sat it in his lap. So, when it actually rang, he fumbled for the talk button and answered before a name could even flash across the caller ID. When it turned out to be his sister from Reno, he nearly snapped her head off for checking in to see how he was. He was in an irritable mood by morning. He cut himself shaving, burnt his tongue on his morning coffee, and stubbed his toe on the side of his bed.

Since he had meetings that day with investors, he couldn’t go grunge and wear his comfortable field clothes. He’d just shrugged on a pinstriped shirt and was raiding his closet for a matching tie when he heard someone pull into his drive. Grabbing the first tie he saw, he moved toward the window to glance out the shades.

The sight of B.J.’s Dodge had him sucking in a breath. For a second, he could only stare. She was here. Good God, she was here. His skin prickled with a sudden anticipation. When he realized he’d turned as hard as a stone just knowing he was going to see her in less than thirty seconds, he yanked the tails of his shirt back out of his slacks to hide his response.

Then he checked the mirror, cursed, and pulled a toilet paper square off his chin. Taking the stairs two at a time, he hurried to the first floor. But as 100



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soon as he approached the entrance, he heard her diesel engine rev. Frowning in confusion, he moved the screen door and stared out as she backed down the drive. Not sure what to think, he wiped his chin with his hand.

What puzzled him the most was why she kept

making these attempts to get a hold of him, only to chicken out before making contact.

And then it struck him. She was as uneasy as he was. Though it was hard to picture the steely-nerved tomboy with any kind of weakness, he had to admit the idea calmed him considerably. If she possessed the same fears and doubts he did, then another dimension had just been stacked to their relationship. That like-mindedness gave them a connection Grady couldn’t ignore.

It also placed the ball in his court. She’d put in her three tries; now it was his turn to make an effort. But the idea of going to her filled him with indecision all over again. Pursuing her would make this all too real. Thinking about being serious with B.J. Gilmore had been nerve-wracking enough. But actually doing something was a whole other story.

He knew where to find her. Ten to one, she’d be at the hangar, working on that old plane of hers. But he didn’t move.

This was foreign territory. Months before he’d asked Amy out for the first time, he’d been prodded by family and friends galore. It’d been expected. And when he’d finally approached her, he’d already known she’d say yes.

With B.J., none of that applied. Nothing was certain, and the only guarantee he’d have was craziness, absolute chaos, which was totally not him.

It’d probably be like that every time with her too. A relationship with B.J. wouldn’t be safe and

comfortable and predictable. And he was everything that was safe and comfortable and predictable.

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Imagining himself otherwise just didn’t...fit.

But it felt strange sleeping with a woman and then not talking to her again. Sex had always been a special, bonding event for him. He hadn’t slept with Amy only because he’d wanted sex. He’d also wanted to show her how much he loved her. But again, that hadn’t been the case with B.J.

He wasn’t used to sex without emotions being involved. He’d liked the importance of coupling as a means of showing his affection. And no matter how mad he was at B.J. for practically pushing him into being with her, he couldn’t hate her or block the desire budding in him.

The link he felt wasn’t just going to go away.

Didn’t mean he had to make his move today, though.

B.J. had waited at least twenty-four hours between each of her attempts. So, Grady decided to let the matter sit until this evening, when he wouldn’t have a meeting to plan.

Eight hours later, everything changed.

He stopped by the gas station on the way home and, as he filled up at the pump, he heard two guys outside the front doors, gossiping. Grady wasn’t the type to listen in on rumors. But when he heard the name B.J. Gilmore mentioned, he lifted his head and glanced over.

“Yeah, I heard,” one guy said to the other,

shaking his head in dismay. “I still don’t know whether or not to believe it, though.”

His buddy chuckled. “Well, we’ll know soon

enough when she starts growing a pooch or not.”

Grady frowned, not comprehending their lingo.

Then the first guy added, “I just want to know who supposedly knocked her up. I didn’t know she was seeing anyone? Hell, I didn’t even think Gilmore was interested in men.”

“What? You didn’t hear about what happened at the diner last week with Junkyard Smardo?” the 102



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second man responded.

As he proceeded to spill the gory details of Ralphie announcing how he’d gone skinny dipping with the biggest tomboy in the county, Grady stared sightlessly at the two men. His ears buzzed so he didn’t hear the gas pump click off, signaling his tank was full. His fingers merely gripped reflectively around the handle, and gas kept gushing until it spewed out the side of his truck and sprayed his pant leg.