“Weren’t you scrawny yesterday too?”
B.J. nodded and guzzled water, mopping at her face when some spilled over the brim and dribbled 91
down her chin.
“Well, you pregnant or something?” Pop asked.
B.J. stopped drinking, lowered the cup, and
stared at her father. A sudden vision filled her of Grady levered above her, straining as he said, “I want slow.” Her mind had been so busy on trying to speed him up, she hadn’t even worried about
protection.
“Damn, Pop,” she murmured, running a hand
over her suddenly clammy face. “I hadn’t even thought of that.”
He scowled and pulled a can of chew from his back pocket. “Well. You been with a feller?” he asked as he flipped the lid and pinched out a finger full of tobacco.
She nodded, not able to meet his gaze as she silently answered.
“Use rubbers?”
B.J. gave a slight shake of the head. She risked a brief glance his way and watched him tuck the chew in his cheek and then wipe his hands on his pants.
“Well,” he said and sighed as if he was too old for this. Frowning disapprovingly, he started in.
“What’d I always tell you about protection, girl?”
“I know, Pop,” B.J. muttered in absolute
mortification. But, hell. It had been years since she’d gotten any lectures on sex from her father. He’d never had any prejudices about her being female.
He’d line her up with her brothers and give her the same exact speech on safe sex he gave the boys.
“I know,” she repeated quietly and closed her eyes. “I just...this was different.”
He made a sound that said he’d heard that line before and didn’t buy it. “Was it that Smardo boy then?”
“What?!” B.J. burst out. Her eyes flew open, and she whipped her head up to stare at him in horror.
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“God, no. What in the world made you think—”
The facts struck her, and her mouth dropped
open. Feeling her face heat, she glanced away and wiped at her mouth. “Guess you heard about that little scene with him in the diner yesterday morning, huh?”
“Guess I did,” Jeb answered.
She could feel him trying to crawl into her brain and figure out who might be responsible for a possible pregnancy, but B.J. wasn’t about to tell him anything. Not yet. She wanted to make sure it was true first.
“If it wasn’t Smardo, then who’re we talking about here?”
B.J. refused to speak. She refused to even think of the person they were talking about. Not yet...not until she had all the facts. She’d already caused Grady Rawlings to suffer enough in the past month.
She wasn’t going to throw his name around until she was certain. And probably not even then.
“Well, then...tell me or don’t tell me. It don’t matter none,” Jeb said with suddenly tired-looking eyes. “You still got a situation here to deal with. So, I’d say you best get yourself checked out and see if there’s a bun in there or not.”
93
Chapter Eight
Two days later, B.J. sat in the doctor’s office, numb and dazed. The twenty-seven-year-old tomboy of Tommy Creek, Texas was pregnant.
“I’m going to give you a list of over-the-counter prenatal vitamins,” Dr. Carl told her. He was the only gynecologist for a hundred miles, so B.J. had scheduled an appointment with him. Now she
wished she’d just taken one of those home pregnancy things, because hearing a professional’s word on the subject made this feel way too real and unavoidable.
“What I want you to do is choose one brand and start taking it immediately. Your body needs all sorts of nutrients it didn’t before, and your remaining healthy is of the upmost importance.
Now, don’t forget to schedule an appointment with Lara at the front desk for next month before you leave. And here’s a couple pamphlets you need to read through.”
Too stunned to argue with the man, B.J. nodded, slipped the pile of papers from his hand with limp fingers, and walked like a zombie toward the secretary’s desk.
Dr. Carl’s receptionist, Lara Alberts, was a middle-aged woman who liked to stick her long nose in other people’s business. When B.J. approached her, she stumbled a step, realizing Lara was going to discover her condition. Shit.
“Well, hey there, B.J.,” Lara greeted. “I didn’t realize it was time for your yearly already. I thought you visited more around the end of the…” Her words died off as she opened B.J.’s file and read the reason 94
The Trouble with Tomboys
for her visit. “Oh my!” she gasped and raised wide, curious eyes. “You’re...you’re…” Her gaze fell to B.J.’s stomach.