The Trouble with Tomboys (Tommy Creek #1)(48)

Come to think of it, Grady had done the same thing when he’d hooked up with Amy. In fact, Amy’s father still worked for Rawlings Oil in the office as a peon paper-pusher. Then again, the Rawlings family were the top dogs in this area. They couldn’t help but marry down. Emma Leigh, Jo Ellen’s twin sister, had to move all the way to Reno to find someone as rich as her to marry.

While B.J. was still wondering if Grady’s sister was going to accuse her of being an opportunistic social climber, the front door opened before she could knock.

“B.J.!” Jo Ellen said with a pleasant greeting smile, managing to sound surprised as if she hadn’t been expecting company. “That was quick.”

As Grady’s sister held open her front door and stepped aside, B.J. entered a pristine living room that belonged on the cover of one of those home decorating magazines. Glancing down at her boots, she hoped to high heaven she hadn’t stepped in anything gooey lately.

“I made some pastries,” Jo Ellen said as she pushed the door shut, imprisoning B.J. in the house with her. “The kitchen’s this way.”

She started off, and B.J. was helpless but to follow.

146



The Trouble with Tomboys



Jo Ellen Rawlings-Gerhardt was pageant-queen pretty. With her petite build and flawless

complexion, she certainly didn’t look like a farmer’s wife. But B.J. couldn’t fault the woman her choice in men. Cooper Gerhardt was as masculine as Jo Ellen was feminine. He had one of those body-builder physiques with a golden Adonis’s head pasted on his hunky, muscular shoulders.

Though Jo Ellen had short hair, it was styled to perfection. It was dark brown just like every other member of her family’s, but she had hers frosted with thick blonde highlights and sprayed into a neat, fashionable pose. B.J. had to keep herself from reaching up to make sure her ponytail wasn’t hanging limp. She hadn’t touched her mane since that morning after taking a shower.

The kitchen was as immaculate as the front

room. With sparkling white cabinets and counters, it looked brand new and extra clean.

In the depth of her brain, she wondered if Amy had been such a good housekeeper too. B.J. guessed she had. She used to give off that aura of perfection just like Jo Ellen did.

“I made cinnamon rolls.” Jo Ellen opened the oven and pulled out a pan where she’d been

warming them. As she turned to find B.J. fallen to a stop, she grinned. “When I was pregnant, I was utterly ravenous for sweets. I couldn’t get enough of them.”

She held out the tray of still-warm rolls. B.J.

stared at them, heard her stomach growl for a taste and cautiously lifted her face to the woman offering them, expecting some kind of ulterior motive behind such a kind act, like maybe as soon as she reached for a roll, the floor would open under her and she’d fall into the dungeon below.

Jo Ellen frowned, obviously curious as to why her guest wasn’t immediately snatching a roll. Not 147



Linda Kage



wanting to offend, B.J. shrugged and followed her stomach’s advice, scooping up one and bringing it to her mouth.

Grady’s sister beamed in approval. “Mama told me how much coffee turned your stomach, so I bought some juice. That’ll be good for the baby.”

When she poured a glass full of apple cider and nudged it encouragingly in front of B.J., B.J. paused and eyed it warily. Suddenly, the entire visit felt like one big trap.

Lifting her gaze, she said, “If you’re oozing all this kindness in order to make me feel like slime for putting your brother through nine months of worry-ridden hell, then you’re doing a damn fine job.”

Jo Ellen smiled as she picked up her own

cinnamon roll and nibbled off an end. “Well, thank you,” she said, as if complimented. “But, no, that wasn’t my intent.”

“Then…?” B.J. pressed, giving her an impatient look. Jo Ellen sighed, sat down her roll and picked up a napkin to dab at the corners of her mouth. “B.J.,”

she said patiently. “This baby you’re having is going to be my son’s first cousin, my son’s only cousin within a hundred miles. So I think it’s pertinent we get to know each other. Besides, you’re going to need a lot of help in the next few months to come, and I don’t want you to be left out in the dark.”

“Help?” B.J. asked blankly.

Jo Ellen’s face softened. “Honey,” she said, reaching out to lay a gentle hand on top of B.J.’s. “Do you have any idea what you’re getting yourself into?

You’re going to have a baby. A baby.”

B.J. blanched. “Oh, God,” she said. Why did Jo Ellen have to go and remind her? She’d been doing so good at avoiding that little detail.

“The way I see it, you’re probably clueless about how to deal with this.”

148



The Trouble with Tomboys



“I am,” B.J. admitted, feeling suddenly sick. She sat down the cinnamon roll. “I really, really am.”

“You have no mother or sisters or even a

grandmother to give you any kind of tips or advice. I mean, sure, there’s your sister-in-law, Phyllis…”

Thinking of going to Buck’s wife for any kind of assistance made B.J. wince. Hell no, she’d rather talk to Leroy about PMS cramps.