The Trouble With Tomboys(3)

“No problem,” he said quietly. “I just wasn’t aware of who the pilot was going to be this trip.”

The last time he’d hired their family’s service, he’d had the misfortune of getting Leroy as his pilot.

She guessed he was merely relieved he didn’t have to ride with that maniac again.

B.J. nodded, hoping she understood the

situation, and said, “Why don’t you take a seat. I’m almost ready, but...who knows when Junkyard

here’s going to make his damn bid.”

“I’m thinking,” Ralphie snapped.

Grady remained standing apart from the group.

6



The Trouble with Tomboys



B.J. took another drag from her cigar and eyed Ralphie until he squirmed.

Buck finally found the courage to say, “H-hey, Grady,” which sounded totally lame, coming this late. The others, all except B.J., chipped in next, mumbling stuttered, uncomfortable greetings.

Grady gave a brief nod. “Fellas.”

No one asked how he was or how his oil business was doing, and he certainly didn’t start any small talk with them. B.J. was about to say something just to fill the silence when Ralphie finally spit on the floor, sent a skittish look Grady’s way, and muttered, “Okay.”

She rolled her eyes. “Good Lord in heaven, he’s going to make his move.”

A couple of the guys chuckled.

Ralphie said, “I want five hundred,” and the laughter at the table intensified.

B.J. sniffed. “Damn, Ralphie, I could buy a

brand new set of tires for that.”

“Well, then, why don’t you?” he retorted.

Still frowning, she relented. “All right, fine. But I want you to put ’em on my truck for free if I win.”

“And I want you to take one of them aerial

pictures of my mama’s place so’s I can give it to her for Christmas if I win.”

“Deal,” B.J. said, studying her cards. “Add

another hundred to my bid.”

At her immediate compliance and raised wager, Ralphie shifted and cringed down at his hand. He scratched his ear and glanced with one eye squinted at his father.

“Damn,” Pete said, puffing on his cigar. “If she’s offering free service, she must have a good hand.”

B.J. chewed on her own cigar and grinned at the old man, sending him a conspiring wink.

“Well, hell,” Ralphie muttered. With another 7







curse, he threw down his cards and forfeited his hand.

Letting out a deep whoop, B.J. triumphantly

tossed her fist in the air. “Yes!” she hollered, then stood and stubbed out her cigar. “Boys,” she told the table of men as she leaned over to rake in her booty.

“It’s been a pleasure.”

“Well, what’d you have?” Ralphie demanded.

When she ignored him, he surged to his feet and reached across the table to snag her cards. B.J. let him have at them.

He stared at them with a saggy jaw a good five seconds before he yelped, “A pair of twos? A pair of

twos!”

B.J. beamed and sent him a two-fingered salute.

“What can I say? My lucky number’s two. And when I get two twos, I figure, hell... Might as well bluff, huh?”

Ralphie’s face turned flamingo bright. He threw his hat off, exposing a head three-quarters gone bald. “I had three jacks!”

B.J. whistled, impressed. “Gee, then maybe you shouldn’t have forfeited,” she told him. “Oh, and by the way, I’m free tomorrow afternoon. Will that be a good time for me to swing my truck by for the new tires?”

Ralphie was so flustered he couldn’t even talk.

Finally, he turned to his father. “What the hell’s the matter with you? ‘B.J.’s betting free service. She must have a good hand,’” he mimicked. “Good hand my ass.”

“Oh, cry me a river, Ralphie,” B.J. butted in, stuffing her new wad of money into her back pocket.

“You threw in your hand.”

“I’m never playing poker with you again.” He sounded like a scorned child who’d just had his ice cream cone taken away.

“I won fair and square.” She glanced toward his 8



The Trouble with Tomboys



dad. “You see me cheat?”

Pete shook his head. “No, ma’am.”

B.J. snorted. “Ma’am? Who the hell are you

calling ma’am? Your old lady just walk in?”

While Pete chuckled, B.J. finally returned her attention to Grady. He’d been passively watching the scene. She had no idea what was going on behind those cool blue eyes of his.

Ignoring the insistent tug in her loins, she arched him a look. “Let me grab my gear, Slim, and I’ll be ready to go. ’Kay?”