The Trouble with Tomboys (Tommy Creek #1)(74)

“But you did anyway. You agreed to marry me.

You signed your name right here next to this X, willing to give up the baby, our baby, for what? For a plane? My God, B.J. If you wanted the plane that much, I could’ve bought you the goddamn plane.”

“It’s not about the plane,” she said, her voice breaking as she spoke.

“Then what is it about?” he growled. “The baby?

Do you not want the baby? Is that what this is about?”

“No. I—” When she faltered, looking lost, his patience gave out.

“What is this about?” he yelled.

“Will you just shut up and let me talk?” B.J.

hollered back as she wound her arm around and let his briefcase fly.

He tried to duck, but her aim was so deadly

accurate, the tote hit him square in the shoulder. He grunted through the pain and caught it against him with both hands. Stunned mute, he could only stare as B.J.’s face flamed a hot, fuming red.

Hands clenching into fists at her sides, she said,

“You...you stupid idiot. I’m getting sick of your asinine assumptions about me. You obviously don’t know anything at all.”

His mouth dropped open. She was mad at him?

Him? “Just what do you think I’m supposed to know?” he asked incredulously.

She growled, looked around her and caught

sight of a small pocket dictionary lying on his desk.

Snagging it, she chucked that next. He ducked behind his briefcase, holding it up as a shield. The 227



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book bounced off the case and crashed against the wall behind him.

“What the hell?” he exploded.

“First, first,” B.J. started through gritted teeth.

“You accuse me of sleeping with you in Houston because you thought I felt sorry for you.” Snorting out a disbelieving sound, she threw a stapler at him.

“Damn it, B.J.!” He dodged her aim again and yet again when she heaved a calculator. “Cut it out.”

“No. I want you to tell me how it was sympathy sex when I wanted to be with you that night more than I’d ever wanted to be with anyone? When I’ve always wanted to be with you?”

Grady froze, having no answer. He stared

mutely as she continued ranting.

“And now. Now you actually think I married you only because of some deal your dad wanted to make with me, as if I was some sissy-scared schoolgirl who could actually be intimidated by his bluffing threats.

God!”

She glanced around her. When she caught sight of a container full of pens and snatched up the whole bundle, pulling them out of their holder, Grady braced himself.

“Don’t even think about it,” he warned.

Instead of throwing the pens, she squeezed them in her hand and quivered as she glared. “You’re such a sanctimonious hypocrite,” she charged. “How can you honestly be mad at me for thinking I married you for some other reason than love when you only married me because of this baby?”

The air rushed out of his lungs when he realized she was right. Dear Lord, she was so right. How could he expect her to have a pure purpose when he’d only been thinking about morality and obligations?

“I’ll tell you right now,” she said, breaking into his thoughts. “That deed to my plane, and

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everything else your father’s said to me, had no part in my reasons for marrying you. And you’re dead wrong if you think it did. The only thing I’m truly guilty of is falling in love with and marrying Amy Rawlings’s idiot husband.”

Grady dropped the briefcase. “What?”

“You heard me.” With that, B.J. turned and

stomped out of the office, slamming the door behind her. Grady feared his heart might beat through his chest. But...damn. She loved him? B.J. loved him?

Giving his head a shake as if to clear it, he blinked once and then hurried after her.

“Wait! B.J.” He dashed from the office and soon realized that when his wife wanted to move, she moved fast.

Charging for the exit, he heard her diesel roar to life just as he pushed his way outside.

“B.J.,” he yelled, sprinting toward her truck. But she put the motor into gear and peeled out.

Changing directions, Grady ran for his own rig, muttering the entire time. “I swear to God, woman, if you get into a wreck and hurt yourself, I’m going to strangle you with my bare hands.”

He followed her, grateful she took dirt roads so he could trail the plumes of smoke she left in her wake. He would’ve lost her otherwise. Still...his heart beat hard against his chest, hoping she remained safe and didn’t hurt herself. He was sweating buckets and breathing hard by the time he spotted her truck parked and landed in one piece, sitting just outside the cemetery. If she’d gotten herself into a wreck before he’d caught her, he didn’t think he could have handled it. He didn’t think he could lose a second woman he loved in such an abrupt manner.

Parking behind her Dodge, Grady let the pent-up air out of his lungs as he killed the engine. Inside 229



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the limestone walls, B.J. sat on her knees in front of Amy’s grave and bent over double, holding her stomach as she wept.