The Trouble with Tomboys (Tommy Creek #1)(58)

Without thinking, he turned the page. He looked 175



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so damn young in those frozen images, and Amy was incredibly alive, glowing like a typical bride. Photo after photo, he flipped through the entire book. She’d wanted a big, all-out wedding. She’d planned every single detail down to those stupid sacks of birdseed to throw. She’s decorated each bag with tiny flowers and colored ribbon.

Grady shook his head over the memory and

winced, leaning forward to study the last picture of their hands, bearing their wedding rings. He’d spent so much time picking out her ring.

Lifting his face, he realized he hadn’t undergone such consideration for B.J. He’d walked into the jewelry store and bought the first diamond he saw, thinking it’d do fine.

Experiencing a pang of doubt, Grady wondered what the hell he was doing. His courting

mannerisms for B.J. were pathetic compared to the lavish ritual he’d expended on Amy.

It didn’t seem fair for some reason.

But then he frowned and assured himself he had nothing to feel bad about. B.J. didn’t deserve the same treatment he’d given Amy. He’d loved Amy with his whole heart. With B.J., it was just...what?

She was pregnant. They were getting married.

End of story.

Okay, he couldn’t honestly say there were no feelings for his soon-to-be second wife, because desire was a pretty strong emotion. And in truth, he liked being around B.J. It was actually refreshing to be in the company of someone who didn’t pity him.

For a few minutes there, when he’d thought

she’d only slept with him in Houston because she’d felt sorry for him, he’d been devastated. But she’d since assured him none of it had been sympathy sex.

He believed her too, because she didn’t act

particularly sensitive toward him. Actually, she was the most unsympathetic-acting person he knew. Not 176



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that she was cruel and uncaring. But she stayed refreshingly normal, treating him like she treated everyone.

That was probably why she was the only person with whom he could talk about Amy. She’d didn’t turn all soft, giving him a pitying look and making him want to snarl and snap at her. And though the effect she had on his libido was so intense it was frankly unsettling, he was still able to relax around her more than he had anyone else in the past two and a half years, since neither of them was worried about bringing up his dead wife. In fact, they talked about Amy openly as if she’d actually existed and not just as someone who’d died tragically.

Realizing how nice that fact was, Grady calmed.

He blew out another breath and set the picture album aside.

“I can do this,” he told himself.

He could marry B.J. He could start a new life with her. And he could survive past this era of constant grieving.

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Chapter Fifteen


B.J. worried she was going to yak through the entire ceremony. Arriving at the courthouse half an hour early, she had to admit, she was a little unnerved when she discovered the ever-prompt Grady hadn’t shown up yet. Not that she’d blame him if he cried off. But damn, even tomboys didn’t want to get jilted at the altar.

Her stomach had already been weak up to that point. And she was cranky because she hadn’t been able to have her morning coffee for going on three weeks now. But the absence of Grady’s truck in the parking lot tipped the scales. She hurried into the building, found the nearest bathroom, and threw up until there was nothing left.

When she stumbled out five minutes later, weak and tired, she immediately started to unbutton her blouse. The white T-shirt she had on underneath seemed to be free of chunks, but she had to admit, a plain white T and blue jeans was not the best outfit for a bride.

She hadn’t thought the new dark pants looked that bad with the blouse she’d originally put on. But with a plain white undershirt, the jeans suddenly looked less crisp and more...average. Glancing at her watch, she cursed when she saw how late it was. She probably didn’t have time to go home and find a new top. Suddenly, she laughed, realizing what she was doing. Waiting until she was twenty-seven was a little too late to finally start worrying about her appearance. But then she glanced up and saw Grady 178



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approaching. Her smile fell flat. He wore slacks, a starched shirt, and a tie.

Damn it.

She couldn’t stand next to him and get married when she looked like this and he was decked out in that. “I need to change,” she said without preamble.

Lifting the wadded blouse in her hand, she added, “I just got sick all over my shirt.”

His blue eyes took in the shirt and then rose to her face. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she nearly snapped, trying to hold back her impatience. She needed to get a move on it, though, or she’d be late for her own wedding. “I just need to go home real quick and—”

“You look fine,” Grady interrupted.

She snorted. “Says the man whose damn-near

wearing a tux. Just look at us, Slim. Talk about mismatched.”

He merely quirked his lips at her distress. “I can’t imagine you owning a dress.”