Rules of Protection(92)

I bit my lip, not knowing if I should ask or not. “You’re pregnant, aren’t you?”

Bobbie Jo reeled with astonishment. “H-how did you know?”

“Everyone around here drinks like a fish, but I haven’t seen you touch the stuff. There’s something else, but I don’t know if it’s normal for you. Maybe it’s the pregnancy.”

“What’s that?”

“You glow,” I said, making her smile widen. “No, I’m serious. Your skin, your hair, your eyes. It’s like you’re radioactive or something.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” she said happily.

“You should.” A moment of silence passed while I summoned the courage to ask her another question. “It’s Cowboy’s?”

She sat upright, no longer slouching in her chair. “Are you nuts? Where would you get a stupid idea like that?”

“I thought—”

“Oh, yuck! That would be like doing it with my brother,” Bobbie Jo said, still making a face. “It’s Jeremy’s—you know, your friend from the bar. I left before the fight broke out, but I heard all about it the next day.”

Now I made a disgusted face. “Oh God. No wonder why Ox didn’t want me to go over there. He knew Jake would be looking for any reason to get into a fight with Jeremy.” I hated to admit it, but was sure she already knew. “Jake’s very protective of you. I’m surprised he didn’t kill Jeremy. At least now I know it wasn’t because of me.”

“Oh, honey, the bar fight was definitely over you. Jake had already promised me he wouldn’t lay a finger on Jeremy. Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure he was glad to have a reason to clock him, but it was more about you than me.”

“Great,” I said sarcastically. “That makes me feel better.”

“That’s nothing,” she said. “The others wanted to send a lynch mob over to Jeremy’s house. I had to talk them out of it.” Bobbie Jo leaned back into her chair casually and giggled. “My boys are something else, aren’t they?”

“I know they don’t like him, but did they think you’d stand by and let them kick the crap out of your boyfriend?”

Bobbie Jo laughed again. “Jeremy’s not my boyfriend!”

“Oh God. Please don’t tell me he’s your husband,” I said, remembering how I danced sexily on him in front of the entire bar.

“Nope. Jeremy wants nothing to do with me or the baby.”

I tried to keep my expression casual, but sympathy tugged at my heart for her. It must’ve showed somewhere on my face. Bobbie Jo’s eyes fixated on me as she shifted uncomfortably in her chair.

“Emily, don’t you dare feel sorry for me,” she warned. “This was my fault. Everyone told me to stay away from him, but I didn’t listen. It may not be the ideal circumstances, but I’ve always wanted children. This baby’s a blessing, not a burden.” She waved her hand nonchalantly. “Besides, how many children do you know that get to have four godfathers?”

I hunched my shoulders. “Not many, I guess.”

“None of my boys are happy about it, but I am. That’s all that matters.”

“Do you always refer to the four of them as your boys?”

“Well, yeah,” Bobbie Jo said with a grin. “You’re the first girl who ever wanted me to share, at least on a more permanent basis. Strange thing is, until now, I never wanted to.”

I threw my head back against my chair and sighed. “It’s probably not nearly as permanent as you think.”

“Are you blind, Emily, or just stupid?”

Startled, I pulled my head upright and fastened my eyes to hers. “So much for trying to get along.”

“Jake’s crazy about you. He told me himself. How can you not know that that boy is in love with you?”

I bit into my bottom lip. “He should try telling me.”

“Maybe he’s waiting for the right time.”

“He had his chance. I told him I loved him, but he didn’t say anything back.”

We both sagged farther down into our chairs, looking out toward the barn roof at Jake. “Honey, a man who views you as a fling won’t put forth the extra effort to win you over outside the bedroom. I’m speaking from personal experience.”

“Then I guess there’s only one explanation,” I said, looking over to Bobbie Jo. “Men are dumbasses.”

Her eyes lit up as she smiled. “I couldn’t have said it better myself.”

We chatted for a while longer, while Bobbie Jo told me all about her family and stories about the boys when they were in high school together. She was more likeable than I’d given her credit for. We got along great for the next hour before her mother got ready to leave and called her inside.

As she walked toward the back door, I stopped her. “Hey, Bobbie Jo… I’m sorry about calling you a slut at the bar. And I do want to clear up one last thing about that night. I was wearing underwear.”

“That’s funny…seeing how I wasn’t,” she said, giving me a friendly wink before heading through the door.

I smiled to myself.

Yep. Bobbie Jo and I would get along fine.

…