The Trouble With Tomboys(2)

Hopper’s wrecked truck.”

B.J. adored her souped-up four by four, three-quarter ton Dodge diesel, and the tires from Hopper’s old truck would look sweet on it. They were exactly what she wanted, but she couldn’t cough up the cash when her current set worked perfectly fine.

She was a real miser that way.

Ralphie glanced at his old man and winced as Pete scratched his gray-black beard stubble with a frown. Then Pete shrugged. “If you lose us those tires, boy, it’s coming out of your wallet.”

Ralphie didn’t look too reassured. He glanced at B.J. “And if I win?”

She lifted a brow. “Name your price.” When

Ralphie fell into intense contemplation, she sighed and rolled her eyes. “Sometime today, please. I got a job to do here pretty soon.”

“Speaking of which…” Buck motioned toward

the opened doors of the hangar.

B.J. turned and froze.

At first, all she saw was a silhouette. The lean, slim-hipped form entering carried an overnight bag slung over his shoulder. Tall and surprisingly graceful, he wore a cowboy hat, Wranglers, and some kind of tucked-in, long-sleeved shirt.

She could hear the echoing click of his boots against the concrete floor as he walked with a slightly bowl-legged stride. The whole scene screamed George Strait in that movie Pure Country...only ten times sexier, because this was real. The man made a mouthwatering picture, that was for sure, and she could only gape as he strolled into the place with the confidence of an alpha used to being in charge. The female inside her took immediate notice. Good God, he was gorgeous.

Grady Rawlings had always been great-looking, though. There had to be zero percent of body fat 4



The Trouble with Tomboys



covering him from head to toe. But while he had a lean build, he still appeared fully ripped. He was pure muscle, bone, and steel, and it looked damn fine on him. In high school, football and baseball kept him in shape. These days, he lifted heavy machinery daily, what with working in his oilfield.

When he stopped just inside the doors and

turned to the side as if seeking assistance, B.J.

hollered from her chair. “We’re back here.”

He turned at her call, and her girly organs leapt to attention, startling her with their enthusiasm.

Good Lord, she must need to get laid. Seeing a guy look her way should not have that kind of effect.

But as he started toward her voice with his sexy male stride, she felt the impact all the way to the tips of her steel-toed boots.

Forcing her attention back to the game, she

cleared her throat and told Ralphie, “Well, hurry up already. I gotta go.”

Grady approached, and she couldn’t help but

glance toward him one more time. When he was close enough for her to make out the features in his face, she drew in a quiet breath. Since his wife and unborn child had died two and a half years earlier, he’d become hardened and withdrawn.

He’d always been fairly serious, yet these days, nothing made him smile. He was a lot tanner and his clothes fit a little loose, yet he was still as hot as hell. That look in his eyes, though, like he didn’t have a friend left on earth, that was what hooked her the most.

B.J. hated to see people in pain, and Grady

Rawlings was in a great deal of agony.

Posttraumatic stress had leashed a collar around his neck, refusing to let go. He’d become so aloof, other people grew uncomfortable around him. They didn’t know what to say or do. B.J. had heard if someone tried to talk about his wife with him, he’d get nearly 5







violent with his irritation before storming off. With every step he drew closer, B.J. could actually feel the guys around her tense into awkward idiots.

Grady stopped ten feet from the table and

planted himself.

No one gave him any kind of greeting, so B.J.

cleared a couple more cobwebs from her throat. “I’ll be right with you. Just as soon as tortoise here makes his bid—and I wipe the floor with his face—

we can be on our way.”

He jerked his attention toward her like he was surprised by her declaration. “You’re flying today?”

Though his low voice shot an overdose of pure lust into her bloodstream, she frowned. “You got a problem with that?”

There’d been occasions when customers had

refused to ride with her because, well, she figured it was because she was a woman. It could be because she wasn’t very polite and had somewhat of a sour disposition, but she reasoned it probably had more to do with her lady plumbing. Some people just couldn’t trust such a little woman—though B.J. was five ten—to fly such a big, masculine plane.

Grady sent her a level look, and his blue eyes penetrated another feminine part she hadn’t even known existed, making her hormones shudder.