The Trouble with Tomboys (Tommy Creek #1)(43)

She leapt to comply. Snagging the cup from her father-in-law’s hand just as he was lifting it to his mouth for a sip, she tossed it onto the silver serving tray and lifted the entire thing in one swoop. Then she was gone, leaving only a trace of the rich decaffeinated brew behind.

“Bluck,” B.J. muttered when she came up for

air. “That was nasty.”

“Here’s some water,” a breathless Tara Rose

said as she reentered the parlor, baring a huge glass of ice water.

“God bless you,” B.J. gasped and reached for the cup. Grady stayed crouched next to her as she guzzled. He rested his forearms on his bent knees and looked up at his mother, concern flush on his face. She bit her bottom lip and winced, shaking her head as if to say such behavior from a pregnant woman didn’t seem normal.

And that was when he decided he wanted to talk to a professional, right then. “I’m taking her to the doctor.” He removed the empty glass from B.J.’s hand.

She frowned. “Why? I don’t need to see him for a bump on the head.”

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Ignoring her, Grady grasped her elbow, “Up,” he said. “Ugg...here we go again,” she groaned as she started to rise. B.J. spread her arms out as if to steady herself, already bracing for the dizziness.

When she didn’t sway once, she straightened with a relieved smile.

“Well,” she said, turning toward Grady. “That wasn’t so bad. See, I’m better already.”

But he wasn’t convinced. Glancing toward his mother, he said, “You’ll let Dad know?”

She rolled her eyes. “Of course. And everyone else in the family as well.”

“Thanks.” He took both of B.J.’s shoulders and steered her toward the door. “Let’s go.”

“But…” She resisted his hold and turned back to his mother. “I just made a mess all over—”

“Don’t even worry about it,” Tara Rose assured her, using her foot to push the trashcan way from B.J.’s grasp. “Just go with Grady so he can make sure you’re okay.”

She gave B.J. a speaking look, and something passed between them, some kind of telepathic woman talk he’d never been able to understand.

Then B.J. glanced at him. When she nodded and stopped resisting, he gritted his teeth.

He didn’t want her to agree only to appease his fears, but at this point he didn’t even care... He had to know if she was going to be okay. There was no way he could live through killing another woman by making her pregnant, no way he could stand there and watch the life drain out of her after giving birth to his dead baby. He would never do that again.

As he glanced across the cab of her truck at her now, the anxiety was still causing his blood to course though his body in almost dizzying waves.

She groaned and closed her eyes. “I can’t believe I yakked all over your mother’s floor.”

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“You yakked in a wastebasket,” he corrected.

“She must hate me right now.” As she spoke, she scooped her hair up with both hands and refastened the locks with her holder.

“The trashcan was lined with a plastic bag,” he argued logically. “It won’t take anything at all to clean.”

She glanced over and sent him a dry look. “I wasn’t talking about the trashcan.”

He snapped his mouth shut. After a moment, he answered, “You know, I think she’d be a lot more forgiving if you married me and made an honest man out of me.”

B.J. rolled her eyes but didn’t bother to answer.

As he pulled into the drive of a ranch-style brown house, she sat up and blinked.

“Where are we? I thought you were taking me to the hospital?”

Before Grady could answer, she caught sight of the man in the yard, pushing himself to his feet where he’d been kneeling in a flowerbed.

She gasped. “Oh, my God. Grady, you took me to Dr. Carl’s house? We can’t just barge in on him when he’s home, relax—”

“He won’t mind.”

At the confident note of assurance in his voice, B.J. arched her brows, impressed. “Well,” she said. “I always knew the Rawlings name held a lot of sway in these parts, but—”

“He better see me whenever I want,” Grady

growled from between gritted teeth. “The man was holding a bloody knife in his hand and standing over my wife when she died.”

As B.J.’s mouth dropped open, he glanced away.

He didn’t blame Dr. Carl for Amy’s death. He knew the doctor had done everything in his power to save her. But neither would he ever forget the stunned look on the man’s face as he gaped at the heart 133



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monitor blaring out one long, continuous beep.

“I didn’t even think,” B.J. said. “Of course, he would’ve been her doctor too, wouldn’t he?” Her face went pale as she glanced at him. “God. If you want me to find another OB/GYN—”

“There is no other baby doctor around here,” he muttered and pushed his way out of the truck. He nodded a greeting to Dr. Carl, who was already striding forward to meet him.