AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Amy was a different case entirely. Each woman goes through her own unique symptoms. B.J. has none of the complications your wife did.”
Grady merely scowled. His eyes slid to the woman sitting on the stool. With her legs dangling over the side, she looked like a child, waiting for the pediatrician to plant a “Good Job” sticker on her shirt. It made his stomach knot with tension. The thought of losing her the way he’d lost Amy made him physically ill. And the fact he was just now realizing this caused his skin to tighten about two sizes too small for his body.
He didn’t want her to die. He didn’t want their child to die. He wanted them both to stay healthy. And that insight scared the living hell out of him.
“This gal here has about the most ideal equipment for a pregnant woman I’ve seen in a long time,” Dr. Carl praised, setting a hand on B.J.’s shoulder as he sent Grady an intense, reassuring smile. “Everything I’ve checked is normal and healthy, and I foresee no problems at all in the upcoming months. You have nothing to worry about, Grady.”
Realizing he’d gone off the deep end with panic, Grady nodded. But he couldn’t help but linger close to B.J. as she hopped off the stool just in case she hit another dizzy spell. Thanking the doctor, she shook the old man’s hand and immediately turned to him.
“Satisfied now?” she asked.
Though she managed to put a pinch of annoyance in her voice, like being forced through this ordeal aggravated her to no end, he still heard the softness in her tone. The irritating woman was more concerned about his mental wellbeing than her own physical health.
Lowering his gaze, he nodded and mumbled, “Let’s go.”
Chapter Twelve
B.J. glanced down at her wristwatch as her younger brother stumbled into the hangar. It was nearly noon, and she’d asked him to come in at nine to help her take some aerial pictures.
“Don’t even start,” he groused as he pushed past her, smelling like a stale brewery. “I’ll be out and ready to go in a few minutes.”
“Whatever,” B.J. said on a shrug. “I’ve already waited three damn hours on you. What’s a few more minutes.” She’d been enjoying the race on television anyway. “Just don’t start the coffeepot.”
Rudy paused and scowled over his shoulder. “Why the hell not?”
“What? Are you the only person in the county who hasn’t heard?” She rolled her eyes as she patted her belly. “I’ll be yakking all over you in the plane if I get one whiff of coffee.”
Her brother blinked. “Yeah, I heard about the baby. But. . .the smell of coffee really makes you sick jus ’cause you got a bun in the oven?”
“Apparently. I stocked the fridge with cola if you need a caffeine fix.”
“Yeah? Thanks.” He turned away and started off.
B.J. returned her attention to the NASCAR race, thanking God Rudy hadn’t freaked out over her condition. Ever since yesterday when she and Grady had gone public with their news, she’d been treated like an alien with two heads. She suddenly understood why he’d withdrawn into himself after Amy had died. It sucked to have everyone staring and talking about you wherever you went.
The snap and fizz of an aluminum can opening behind her told her Rudy had returned. Without looking up from the screen, she said, “Twenty bucks says Gordon wipes out on that last turn there before the race is up.”
Rudy stopped at her side, took a five-second long chug, guzzling loudly as he swallowed. Then he wiped his mouth with the back of his free hand and burped. “You’re on.”
“Hell, I’ll give you twenty bucks just to tell me who really knocked you up. Rawlings or Smardo?”
B.J. growled and closed her eyes. “Leroy.” He’d been popping over every couple of hours to annoy her. “I swear to God, if you don’t shut up about that, I’m going to give you another bloody nose.”
Rudy snorted.
Leroy ignored her threat. “Twenty bucks,” he coaxed, waving a bill in front of her face. Though he tried to move it fast enough she couldn’t tell what denomination it was, she knew it was a single dollar.
Rolling her eyes, she shoved his hand out of her sight. “Get out of my face, asshole, and stop asking me stupid questions.”
“I thought it was a pretty good question myself.”
At the new voice, all three Gilmore siblings froze and then turned in unison. B.J. felt rather than saw her two brothers slink a respectful step back when they found themselves in the presence of Grady’s father, Mr. Rawlings Oil himself. B.J. had to admi
t her legs quivered a little with intimidation, but she made sure she didn’t change her stance any: cocked hip, arms crossed, and expression bored.
Giving Tucker Rawlings a single nod, she asked, “Can we help you with something?”
He flickered a single, meaningful glance toward her brothers.
