The Trouble With Tomboys

“I heard about five minutes ago that someone had knocked up B.J. Gilmore.”

That finally evoked the response he’d expected. Her face drained of color and she dropped her bag of popcorn, spilling kernels around her bare feet.

“Who told you that?”

Grady folded his arms and stared hard. “I overheard Gabe Watson telling Ulrick Pullson about it at Herb’s Quick Stop. Both of them already knew.”

“Who?” she demanded, and then she shook her head furiously. “I...I just wasn’t sure how to say it,” she answered quietly. “I mean, was there any way to break it to you easily?”

Grady opened his mouth, but B.J. hurried to add, “One thing was sure, I definitely wasn’t going to tell anyone else until you knew.”

She stopped suddenly as if just realizing something. Then she scowled and pressed her hands to her hips, snapping, “Wait a second. What even makes you think this is your kid?”

She’d already given it away, but his answer was a quiet, heartfelt, “Because I’m not that lucky.”

B.J. looked like she was going to cry, and he felt like a heel for saying such a thing. He wasn’t typically a rude man. But B.J. wasn’t the type to break down and bawl when her feelings were hurt either. So why did the two of them together seem to bring out the worst in each other?

God, he wanted to scrub his face with his hands and mutter, “What a disaster,” but he didn’t want to hurt her any further. She already looked like she was on the edge and might crumble any second. He sighed then and really did scrub his face with his hands.

“I guess we’ll need to get married,” he announced, sounding none too pleased.