If Amy were here, she’d know what to do
concerning B.J. She’d be honest and tell him how to handle everything. But then, if Amy were here and still alive, there’d be no issue with the tomboy to resolve.
That thought caused his breath to hitch in his chest.
As much as he regretted ever being with smart-mouthed B.J. Gilmore, he still relished those few minutes they’d shared in her hotel room. At the twinge of guilt rippling through him, he lifted his hand to the center of his chest and rubbed, because the pain was actually physical. The agony ate at him, and he couldn’t deny the truth.
No matter how much he missed his wife and
wanted her back, deep down, he was secretly glad 72
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she’d been out of the way so he could experience a taste of B.J., because nothing had ever been as good as sliding inside her. Those few minutes she’d wrapped her legs around him had been hotter than all the years he’d spent with Amy.
Lowering his head, he buried his face in his hands and shuddered. “I’m so sorry.”
****
Three weeks after sleeping with Grady, B.J. still felt awful about what she’d done. She figured she should do something to show her regret, make it up to him somehow. But she’d already apologized, and that was a record for her. Besides, she never saw the man much anyway. Maybe she should just leave it alone and forget it had happened...except she would dream about their time together and wake in the middle of the night, aching.
She’d flop on her back and curse at the ceiling.
There definitely had to be something wrong with her if she got off on making good men like Grady Rawlings suffer.
So, she tried to ignore the situation and act like it wasn’t happening. That didn’t work either.
Though they lived in the same small community, they usually didn’t spot hide nor hair of each other for months at a time. But B.J. knew she was cursed when she saw him three times in that third week.
The first instance, she’d seen him retreating as she’d stepped from the post office. He’d hightailed it out of there like he’d seen her inside and was escaping before they could cross paths.
Since he was trying the whole evade-and-ignore remedy, she did the identical thing back to him the second time around. She’d been about to go into the hardware store to order new parts for her airplane when she saw him standing at the checkout counter, getting something for his oil rigs, no doubt.
Screeching to a halt, she immediately changed 73
course and darted around a corner, lurking there until she saw him leave the store and cross the street.
The third time, however, she wasn’t so lucky and couldn’t avoid a...collision of sorts. She was in the diner, chowing down on some breakfast, when she caught sight of him through the window striding toward the entrance. Eyes going wide, she deserted her bacon and eggs and flew out of her stall. He was almost to the café, and there was no way she could leave without bumping into him, so she ducked around the corner, fully intent on hiding in the hallway to the bathrooms until he left.
She knew exactly when he entered, because the air in the building changed. Not only did the bell above the door ding announcing a new arrival, but all talk fell dead, and even the clinking of silverware paused.
Sal, the waitress, was finally kind enough to say, “Well, howdy there, Grady. What can I get you today?”
B.J. made a growling face, wanting to defend him. No wonder the poor guy had reverted into himself, turning all quiet and solitary. Everyone treated him like a freak. Don’t go near that Grady Rawlings. Widowhood might be contagious.
She frowned and then clenched her teeth when she heard him go and order a full meal. Damn, she mouthed. She’d have to hide until he was done. Sal would probably clear her breakfast away and
complain about her dining and dashing.
But B.J. didn’t care. She was prepared to stay right where she was for as long as it took. Until Ralphie Smardo ruined it all.
The brainless doofus opened his big trap and started talking. He’d come into the café about the same time as her, and he’d gone to sit at the counter with a couple of other bachelors. And as soon as he 74
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sat down, he immediately started complaining about his old lady.
The boy was all bent out of shape because he and Nan were having trouble in the bedroom.
According to him, she was bored, claiming he wasn’t fun and adventuresome.
“Now, I can be just as adventurous as the next guy,” he whined.
From her hiding spot, B.J. rolled her eyes. If Ralphie’s form of adventuresome was grunting out,
“Hold onto somethin’,” for foreplay then, sure, he was one wild boy.