The Trouble With Tomboys (23 page)

B.J. pulled back in surprise. When Jo Ellen

merely beamed, she blinked. Then she let out a chuckle.

“Did he tell you?” she had to know. “Or did you just listen in on our conversation?”

Jo Ellen snorted. “Like I could get him to confess something like that.”

B.J. shook her head. “It wouldn’t have happened between us, anyway,” she said. “He was so hung up on you, it was pathetic.”

Jo smiled, obviously pleased to hear such a

report. “Then I’m glad you were there to cheer him up.” B.J. glanced around to make sure no one else was listening. But Grady stood gathered with his family, and her relatives were clustered in their own group.

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“I really don’t do sympathy sex,” she muttered quietly so only Jo Ellen could hear. “I wasn’t thinking one sorry thought when Grady and I—”

Realizing she was about to discuss personal details with his sister, she snapped her mouth shut.

Jo Ellen smiled. “Well, that’s good to know. Just as long as you did with Cooper.”

“Okay, it was all about sympathy with Cooper,”

she relented. “That’s true. And Ralphie Smardo too, but not—”

“I think it’s time to get started,” Granger

Rawlings announced loudly from his wheelchair.

“But before we all go into the judge’s office, I demand a kiss from my soon-to-be granddaughter.”

B.J. was quick to oblige the old man. She leaned over him and pressed her lips to his cheek, but he grabbed her hand and returned the sentiment, softly saying for her ears alone, “I’m glad it’s you who’ll be taking care of my grand-boy.”

She blinked repeatedly as she straightened. She hadn’t expected this kind of welcome at all from Grady’s family. She’d just assumed they’d see her as some kind of opportunist leech, going after the sad widower and taking advantage of him. But with Jo Ellen’s, Granger’s, and Caine’s approval, she felt pretty damn good.

Then she turned and caught Tucker Rawlings’s eye. Grady’s father gave her a quiet nod, his eyes full of all sorts of messages. She froze, suddenly remembering their “arrangement.”

He’d already cornered her at her house earlier in the week with his lengthy prenuptial agreement.

Having no problem letting Grady keep all his money and possessions in case of a divorce, she’d signed Tucker Rawlings paperwork. Thinking they’d get into specifics about child custody and her plane next, she’d been shocked when he’d merely nodded and left, leaving behind her own copy of the prenup.

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She spent the rest of the evening reading what she’d just signed. And to her horror, the deed and child custody issues were all mentioned in the document. If she and Grady ever split, full custody of their baby would go to him, and in return her plane would be signed over in her name.

A cold chill washed over her. Swallowing, she set her hand protectively over her stomach. In the past few days, she’d come to realize she wanted her baby...she wanted it very much. And she wasn’t about to give it up either. Not for anything.

Somehow, someway, she was going to have to

make her husband keep her around for a good long while. Because she also wanted to be his wife just as much as she wanted to keep her baby.

It was the biggest gamble she’d ever taken.

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The wedding was over five minutes after it

started. It took longer to get everyone packed into the judge’s chamber than it did to say all their vows and sign their names to the certificate. Rudy stepped forward and relieved her of her wedding presents and puked-on blouse. Then he backed her even more by being a second witness to sign the license.

“Does this make me your maid of honor?” he

asked teasingly.

B.J. rolled her eyes. “Just sign.”

Grady had his brother Caine stand in as his

witness. And then it was all over and done. She was married. Feeling queasy, B.J. pressed a hand to her stomach and prayed she didn’t have to race to a bathroom.

After all the legal paperwork was taken care of, Tara Rose declared they’d celebrate her son’s wedding at the country club, all tabs paid by the Rawlings family. Her brothers eagerly stepped forward, salivating at the thought of a free meal.

Rudy and Leroy headed straight for the bar as soon as they arrived. But B.J. pulled to a frozen stop in the doorway, feeling transported back in time.

The last time she’d stepped foot inside Tommy Creek’s Country Club, the whole place had been rented out and decorated with blue and cream-colored balloons and crepe paper for a Rawlings wedding...for Grady’s wedding. Realizing she was here again for the same exact reason, B.J. sent her groom a worried look.

But he’d obviously been here numerous times

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since then. Because when he caught her gaze, he didn’t looked sickened with nostalgia. He merely puckered his brow and took her elbow, looking concerned. “Are you still feeling queasy?”

B.J. stared at him a moment longer. He honestly didn’t look overcome with misery, like this was the worst day of his life, so she shook her head. “No. I’m fine. Just hungry.”

****

Grady’s was by any means normal. But she couldn’t say she minded it either. It was nearly midnight when they broke away from both their families and finally arrived at his big house on the hill. Feeling self-conscious about going inside, B.J. lagged behind as Grady led the way to the entrance.

This was Amy’s home. Grady had built it for her.

Though dozens of people had been hired to construct it, no one had labored as hard as Grady had. B.J.

still remembered driving by when it was being erected. Every time she’d looked out her window, there he was, shirtless and sweating, helping out and making sure every detail was just the way his wife wanted it.

Amy had been so excited to see it finished. B.J.

remembered bumping into her at the grocery store one time. The woman gushed on for a good half hour about its progress, not even noticing how B.J. had nearly gone cross-eyed and started to drool from boredom.

Seven years later, the place was still in great condition. The brick siding had weathered well, and the trim looked as freshly painted as the first time B.J. had seen it finished. The dried wilting weeds in the flowerbed, however, about broke her heart. She stared at them as Grady unlocked the front door.

There was a swing at the far end of the porch, and she had a sudden vision of him, at sunset, 187

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sitting there, watching the sky turn all shades of the rainbow. He was the quiet type who would do a thing like that. He’d feel content, living out here by himself with nothing but a house full of ghosts and memories to keep him company.

Tension gnawing at her stomach, B.J. glanced once more at the decaying flowerbed. When she saw a green flowering plant in the depths of those brown weeds, despite the fact it was being choked out, she caught her breath, not sure whether it was a good omen or bad. She could either take it as a sign for new growth and hope, or as a haunting reminder that there would always be a part of Amy alive here, no matter how dead she was.

B.J. shivered. She was about to step over the threshold into Amy’s life with Amy’s husband. It felt almost wrong...forbidden.

She glanced toward Grady to see how all this affected him, but he’d already opened the door and disappeared inside. “Remind me to get you a key made,” he called over his shoulder.

Wondering briefly if he’d carried Amy through the doorway of their first home after they married, she shook her head and forced the thought away.

“Okay.”

She didn’t want Grady picking her up. She

definitely didn’t want him treating her the same way he’d treated Amy. She was nowhere near that

important to him, so she’d better just forget any ideas otherwise.

****

Grady showed B.J. the second floor.

“This is our room.” He opened the first entrance on the right in a long hall full of closed doors.

He stood in the entrance, watching her stroll around the room and study the furniture. She peeked into the closet and was surprised to see all 188

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his clothes pushed to one side, leaving the other half completely bare. The skin on the back of her neck prickled as she wondered if this was where Amy had hung her dresses.

“I cleaned out a few drawers for you too,” Grady said, bringing her attention back around in time to catch him opening a dresser drawer to show her it was empty.

She blinked in surprise. He’d cleaned the space out for
her
? That meant...leaving the closet half-bare hadn’t been some tribute to his departed wife. It was done in order to welcome B.J. Feeling ashamed of her thoughts, she looked at the room in a new light and realized this probably wasn’t even the master bedroom. There wasn’t a bath connected, nor did it contain some of the amenities a homeowner would put in his private chambers.

He’d probably moved into this room after Amy died. That suspicion was confirmed when she moved back into the hall and motioned toward the half a dozen closed doors lining the walls.

“What’re they?”

Grady shrugged, unable to meet her eyes.

“Other rooms,” he said on a mumble and started back down the stairs.

Though she was tempted to go peek, she decided not to mess with opening any closed doors just yet.

She turned to follow him back down to the ground floor. But once she entered the living room, an open photo album caught her attention. Wandering closer, she jerked to a stop when she saw a picture of Grady feeding Amy a piece of wedding cake.

Unable to stop her curiosity, she stepped

cautiously closer. Then she sank into the chair and pulled the album onto her lap. Grady turned, noticing her preoccupation, and immediately zipped his gaze guiltily to hers. He opened his mouth as if to apologize for its presence, but what came out was, 189

Linda Kage

“I didn’t mean to leave that out.”

B.J. shook her head, letting him know it didn’t matter. In a way, it really didn’t matter. It’d been so long since she’d seen Amy.

Smiling at the picture, she said, “She sure was happy.”

Grady closed his mouth and slowly eased down next to her. “Yes, she was.”

B.J. turned the page and snorted when she

caught sight of a huddle of women falling over themselves to catch Amy’s bouquet.

“You know, you’re the only person I can stand to hear talk about her,” Grady said.

Jerking her head up, B.J. gaped as he gave her a half smile.

“Everyone else is always so sympathetic when they mention Amy. It...makes me sick. I mean, almost physically ill. I can’t handle pity. It just...it makes me feel worse. But you...you actually talk about her like she existed. And you remember when she was happy and healthy and alive.”

B.J. looked down at another photo but didn’t see it this time. “I remember you used to be pretty happy yourself.”

“Yeah,” he said softly. Then he cleared his

throat and pushed to his feet.

Quietly closing the album, she pushed to her feet as well. And they stood there in silence, both making sure they had their gaze set firmly on different parts of the room.

Unable to take it any longer, B.J. blurted out the first thing that came to her head. “You know, I heard only eighty percent of Americans actually have sex on their wedding night.”

Grady lifted his face. She could see his mind spinning, and it suddenly dawned on her how

suggestive her comment sounded.

“What are you trying to say?” he asked, his voice 190

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cautious.

“I...I’m not trying to say anything,” she

answered, defensive. “I mean, I said what I wanted to say. I just thought it was weird so many people didn’t…” Damn, she was only burying herself

deeper.

“I think it’s weird too,” he returned quietly.

She nearly sighed in relief. Licking her lips, she darted a glance toward the doorway. “So...do you want to—”

“Hell, yes,” he cut in, already reaching for her.

When his mouth slanted across hers and his

arms crushed her to his chest, she finally did let her sigh loose. Thank God, thank God, she thought.

Something finally felt right. She’d been tense and unsure of everything ever since saying I do. But every single insecurity inside her melted away in Grady’s arms.

If only they could have sex all the time, then life would be perfect.

He had her tee and bra off by the time they

made it to his—er,
their
—room. She’d stripped him of his tie and shirt, and they were each working on the other’s pants. As he backed her toward his bed, he skimmed her jeans down over her hips and

paused when he realized she hadn’t been wearing underwear. He glanced up and treated her to a questioning look.

She smiled, hoping he’d appreciate his wedding gift. On a wink, she explained, “And you say only single people go commando.”

He chuckled. Then he pressed his mouth to hers, and his kiss tasted like laughter, sunlight, and heaven. B.J. groaned and clutched his hair. After backing her onto the bed, he set a hand on her knee, moved her thighs apart, and knelt between her open legs. As he touched her with his tongue, she gasped and arched. For a novice at this particular art, the 191

Linda Kage

man was already a pro.

Wanting to reciprocate, she said, “Wait a

second.”

He stopped and looked up in concern, like he was worried she was going to stop him. But she merely wiggled her hips around until her feet were by the headboard and her face was in his crotch.

“I’ll do you while you do me,” she explained, spreading his fly apart and taking him into her hand.

At the first touch of her mouth on him, he went rigid and sucked in a breath. He whipped a hand out as if to pull her away from him by her hair. But instead, he tugged off her ponytail holder and buried his fingers in her thick locks.