B.J. finally glanced back and, yep, her brother was scurrying to pick up his fallen equipment.
“You coming?” she asked Grady.
But the voice of her father shouted out, “Get your tail back here.”
B.J. muttered a curse, closed her eyes, and
turned in Pop’s direction. Grady fell into step beside her. It shocked her just how comforted she was by his automatic show of support. Grady Rawlings might be a quiet, reserved person, giving off the impression he was shy. But he had backbone. He didn’t back down from certain duties, even ones that made her want to run for the hills.
“You’re pulling our leg, ain’t ya?” Leroy said, laughing as he glanced from her to Grady. “I mean, you two…” He shook his head and slapped at his knee. “Brat, you couldn’t get a Rawlings to notice you if you stripped naked and—”
“Enough,” Jeb growled and jabbed at his son to shut him up. Then he propped his hands on his hips and glared disapprovingly between B.J. and Grady.
“So...when’s the wedding?”
Grady looked expectantly at her. “That’s what I’d like to know.”
B.J. threw her hands in the air. “We’re not getting married.”
“You...you mean it’s true?” Leroy sputtered.
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The Trouble with Tomboys
Spinning to aim an incredulous look at B.J., he said,
“How in the sam hell did you get Grady Rawlings to—” “Will you shut the hell up,” she snapped, mainly because Grady was taking a threatening step toward him, which her idiotic brother didn’t even notice.
“I want to know why there’s not going to be a wedding,” Jeb growled.
“Pop, that’s really none of your concern.”
“No, I want to hear this reason too,” Grady said, crossing his arms over his chest and cocking her an arch look.
B.J. growled. Damn. She knew she probably
hadn’t heard the last of his marriage-talk nonsense, but she never would’ve guessed he’d so sneakily enlist the help of her own father.
“Don’t you start with me again,” she groused.
“We already went over this. There’s no reason we should marry. I told you, you can have as much Daddy time as you want. You can—”
“That’s not the same, and you know it.”
“You’re being ridiculous.” She raised her voice.
“We are not getting hitched after one measly night in a hotel room.”
“B.J.,” he said under his breath, risking a quick glance toward her dad, clearly not receptive to the fact Pop was listening to their every word. “Will you just listen to me? I—”
“Hell, no. I’m not going to stand here and listen to you rant and rave like a psycho. We’re not getting married, and that’s that.”
“Guess you two are still working out the date,”
Pop cut in. He eyed Grady thoughtfully before sighing. “I suppose there’s worse out there that could’ve knocked up my little girl.”
For the first time since entering the hangar, Grady looked contrite.
B.J. decided she didn’t like the hold Grady
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Rawlings had on her, because she felt the urge to say she’d marry him just to wipe that miserable look of shame off his face. No, she’d never liked seeing anything suffer, but that trait seemed magnified ten-fold with this man.
“Can we leave now?” she asked abruptly, more uncomfortable with the situation than she ever would’ve admitted. In fact, she’d probably just turn tail and stalk out of there if the obstinate man who’d knocked her up hadn’t insisted on them riding together.
He nodded once and then focused his attention on her dad. “There will be a wedding,” he assured him. “Woo-wee, little sister,” Leroy hooted. “You sure hog-tied him around your little finger, didn’t ya?
Who’d a thunk it? You must got a golden—”
“That’s enough,” Grady growled, effectively
making her annoying brother swallow his tongue.
When he glanced at her with an impatient,
restrained anger, she knew it was way past time to skedaddle. She nodded, feeling a hard plop in the base of her stomach. Felt kind of strange watching someone defend her.
Together, they turned toward the exit.
****
B.J. had never been inside the main Rawlings
homestead before. The thousands of times she’d passed the mansion, she’d always wondered what it was like. Today, she finally found out.
As Grady knocked on the front door, a lump of pure fear settled in the base of her stomach. Telling Pop she was knocked up was one thing. Informing the fancy Rawlings was completely different.