The Trouble With Tomboys(76)

he said, bounding off the porch, his eyes wide with concern.

B.J. didn’t think. She just leapt, landing in his surprised arms and nearly crawling up his leg she clung to him so tight.

“B.J.?” Grady took her shoulders in his hands and pulled her back so he could look her up and down, probably for blood. “What’s wrong?”

Reality finally returned, and she could only shake her head and move out of his concerned grasp.

“Nothing. I’m fine.” Yet she scanned the grass frantically as she spoke.

“You screamed,” he insisted.

“I did not.” But as soon as she spoke, she bit her lip, realizing screaming was a girly thing, and that was exactly what she’d been trying to accomplish.

Grady looked at her strangely. “I heard you

scream.”

“I do not...scream,” she stated firmly. Okay, so, in some ways she’d always be a tomboy, because no way on God’s green earth would she admit to

screaming. “I might’ve let out a sound of surprise.

But your goddamn wrong if you think I screamed.”

Grady gaped a moment. Then he sputtered out a laugh and shook his head. “All right then,” he revised. “I heard your sound of surprise. So, what surprised you?”

B.J. mumbled about the snake, and Grady

moved closer.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I said I saw a damn snake, okay?” she

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The Trouble with Tomboys



practically shouted. It was humiliating. She, B.J.

Gilmore—Rawlings—hated snakes.

Grady fell back a startled step. “You’re afraid of snakes?”

“Hell, no,” she growled and then snorted,

appalled he would even suggest the idea, even though her hand had already raised to cover the spot under her arm where her snakebite scar remained.

“I just don’t like them.”

He grinned, clearly amused, and she ground her molars. But damn it, she didn’t want to be feminine weak; she wanted to be feminine strong.

“It’s okay to be afraid of snakes, you know.”

“I am not afraid.” Her voice vibrated with irritation...and humiliation.

He lifted his hands in surrender. “Sorry. Honest mistake.”

At her glare, he tried to stop smiling, but it didn’t work, and his lips quirked up at the corner.

She folded her arms over her chest and let her eyes narrow.

Shaking his head, he seemed to relent. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry. Really. Just tell me which way he went, and I’ll see if I can get him out of here.”

“I didn’t see which way he went,” she answered, looking at him as if he was insane. “The damn thing slithered right over my hand, and I was out of there.”

Making a sudden gagging sound, she stared

down at her fingers in horror. “Oh, God. I need to wash my hand.”

As she raced inside, she heard Grady’s laughter follow her.

“Bastard,” she muttered, dashing to the sink.

Grabbing up the dish soap, she poured half the bottle over her fingers and commenced to scrubbing the skin raw.



****

215







Still chuckling, Grady shook his head again. For a full-blown tomboy, the woman had a healthy set of lungs on her. He hadn’t heard such a high-pitched scream since Caine had put a spider in his sister Emma Leigh’s hair when she was ten.

The prospect made him feel a little lighter. B.J.

was such an independent, self-sufficient woman, he liked knowing she’d actually need him for something every once in a while. Hey, maybe if he was lucky, she’d “dislike” spiders too, and he’d get to play hero even more often.

Searching the ground for a long black slithering object, he thought back to B.J. at breakfast. She was definitely something else. One minute, she could be a seductive vixen, driving him out of his mind with what she could do with her mouth. Then she was shrieking her head off over snakes, only to switch back into the ultimate tomboy a second later, acting too tough to be scared of anything.

He enjoyed the mix. He enjoyed B.J. The woman was a breath of fresh air. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed companionship until she’d

crowded her way into his life. But he liked having her around. And he liked catching her unaware when she paused in a room to look down at her still flat stomach in wonder, like she couldn’t believe there was a little human in there.

Amy had talked constantly about her pregnancy, how her body was changing and what she was

thinking. But B.J. remained quiet, hardly ever mentioning the fact she was carrying.

He found himself wanting to know what was

going on her mind when she laid a protective hand on her stomach and stood there lost in thought. He wanted to know what her body was going through and what emotions she was experiencing, because he had a sneaking suspicion the baby secretly delighted her.