Page 41 of The Trouble With Tomboys (Tommy Creek 1)

“B.J.,” Grady corrected.

A hint of pink highlighted the tops of his mother’s cheeks. Still smiling at B.J., she spoke through gritted teeth to her son. “That’s what I said.”

“You said D.J.”

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His mother finally turned from B.J. to pin her oldest with an annoyed look. “No, I said B. . .not D. Don’t question your mother.”

That was when the most amazing thing happened. Grady grinned.

Both Tara Rose and B.J. gaped.

“Yes, ma’am,” he murmured, all the while smirking from ear to ear.

B.J. was still thinking he had the most enticingly ornery look ever when Tara Rose cleared her throat. “Well, let’s not stand in the foyer all day. Come into the parlor.”

Said the spider to the fly.

B.J. shivered but followed mother and son into the next room, where they all three stood, awkwardly staring at each other as if expecting someone else to break the silence. Tara Rose kept sending curious little glances B.J.’s way, and B.J. was trying to get Grady’s attention by glaring at him, silently urging him to talk. But he seemed intent at rubbing at a scuff on his shoe with the heel of the other boot.

Finally, he glanced around. “Where’s Dad?”

“He received a call and had to check something in the south field.”

Grady grew alert. “Everything okay?”

“I’m sure it is.” Tara Rose pushed his concern aside with the sweep of her hand. “He’s always getting calls. I’m just glad it wasn’t three in the morning this time.”

She grinned B.J.’s way, probably trying to share an inside joke to make her feel included in the conversation.

But the tense smile B.J. returned had the older woman glancing away and sending her son a questioning look that asked, What the heck is going on? It was clear she had no idea why her son would come to call, bringing the “Gilmore girl” with him.

“Anyway,” Tara Rose said, clearing her throat. “Ah. . .” She glanced around the room as if she had no idea what to do with herself. “Oh! Why don’t you two have a seat? I’ll get us some refreshments.”

Looking eager to leave, she scurried toward the exit.

B.J. hoped Grady would decline for the both of them. But he obeyed his mother’s suggestion and started toward a cushioned high-back chair. She would’ve called the other woman back and told her she needn’t bother with trying to entertain them, but she already knew if she tried to talk, nothing would come out except a dry croak.

As soon as his mother disappeared around the corner, B.J. whirled toward Grady, who’d plopped into the chair already. She didn’t want any “refreshments.” She wanted to drop the news like a stink bomb and get the H-E-double hockey sticks out of there before she caught a whiff of the rotten hang time.

But when she spotted the crushed look on his face, she paused.

“I didn’t realize he received so many after-hour calls,” he murmured to himself. “I never get a call from work.”

The unspoken question, Why don’t I ever get a call?, lingered in the air between them. B.J. suddenly remembered the nasty words she’d said in Houston. You make everyone in town uncomfortable whenever you’re around because you freeze the living folks out like they should all feel sorry they’re still alive and your wife isn’t.

He lifted his eyes then, and he looked at her as if he were remembering that exact same line. She opened her mouth to apologize for being such a butt that night, for hurting him like she had. But a rough male voice spoke from behind them.

“Well, well. Be still my heart. If it ain’t that little Gilmore gal.”

B.J. spun around and sucked in a delighted breath. “Now there’s the love of my life,” she said and surged forward.

Grady’s grandfather, Granger Rawlings, had to be over eighty years old if he was a day. He’d lived in the Rawlings mansion since the moment he’d it built nearly fifty years ago. In a wheelchair now, he’d lost one arm and half a leg in an explosion on the oil field years ago. But she’d always adored the gruff old man. And he returned the affection one hundred percent.

Where other children had shied away from the intimidating oil tycoon, B.J. had been drawn to him. She still remembered the first time she’d ever seen him. It had been at one of Tommy Creek’s annual homecoming festivals. Since the Rawlings had sponsored the event, the entire family had gathered around a booth where they passed out free drinks to the townsfolk. B.J. had walked right up to Granger and tugged on his sleeve to get his attention.

“Who stole your arm and leg, mister?” she’d wanted to know.

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