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****
B.J.’s phone was ringing as she stepped inside her back door. She groaned. If it was Tucker Rawlings, she was going to hang up on him. She’d had enough of Grady’s father for one day. He’d ruined her entire afternoon as it was.
Expecting to hear his voice and dreading it, she dropped the mail and lunchbox she’d carried in with her onto the kitchen table and scurried to the phone.
“Hello.”
“Hello. B.J.?” a hesitant female voice asked.
B.J. frowned. Who was this? “Yep. Sure is.”
“Oh. Well, good. This is Jo Ellen. Jo Ellen Gerhardt.”
Pausing in her perusal of the mail, B.J. lifted her face. Oh, dear God. Here we go again. If it wasn’t the father, it was the daughter. But, Jesus, if Jo Ellen planned to give B.J. a piece of her mind for getting herself knocked up by Grady, then she was going about it in way too polite a voice.
“Okay,” B.J. said. And?
She could imagine what kind of threats and name-calling Grady’s sister was going to start tossing around.
“Mama called last night and told us the happy news. . .about the baby.”
“Yeah?”
Dropping the cable bill in her hand, B.J. squinted blankly across the room and wondered what her caller’s main objection was. She seriously doubted the woman wanted to congratulate her. Thinking Grady’s sister could only have nefarious plans just like her dad, B.J. braced for the outpouring.
“Well, I was just wondering if you’d like to come over for a little while,” Jo Ellen said. “To, you know, girl chat.”
Girl chat? B.J. winced at the word before the main subject of the question struck her. Jo Ellen was inviting her over?
Okay, so maybe she wanted to cuss her out in person.
“Are you busy for the next hour or two?” Jo Ellen sounded almost hesitant.
Well, hell. A whole hour’s worth of name-calling? Grady’s sister must have some doozies. She could already imagine the typical insults. Gold digger, hoochie mama, bitch, slut, whore. But damn, a whole hour’s worth?
“I guess I’ve got some time,” she muttered on a sigh. Might as well get this over with now.
“Great,” Jo Ellen gave the perky reply. “I’ll see you in a few minutes.”
As she hung up, B.J. glanced down at her clothing. She’d been outside in the heat all day under a grimy plane engine. She should probably take a shower and change first. But, hell. Who honestly dressed up for a dressing down? Shrugging, she wiped her palms on her pants and headed back out the door.
****
Five minutes later, she stood at the Gerhardt’s, ringing the bell. In these parts, everyone knew where everyone else lived. In fact, B.J. could remember who’d lived in this particular house before Jo Ellen and her husband had bought it two years ago when they’d married. It was a modest-sized place, but clean and well taken care of. Jo Ellen was a Rawlings who’d actually married down on the social chain.
Come to think of it, Grady had done the same thing when he’d hooked up with Amy. In fact, Amy’s father still worked for Rawlings Oil in the office as a peon paper-pusher. Then again, the Rawlings family were the top dogs in this area. They couldn’t help but marry down. Emma Leigh, Jo Ellen’s twin sister, had to move all the way to Reno to find someone as rich as her to marry.
While B.J. was still wondering if Grady’s sister was going to accuse her of being an opportunistic social climber, the front door opened before she could knock.
“B.J.!” Jo Ellen said with a pleasant greeting smile, managing to sound surprised as if she hadn’t been expecting company. “That was quick.”
As Grady’s sister held open her front door and stepped aside, B.J. entered a pristine living room that belonged on the cover of one of those home decorating magazines. Glancing down at her boots, she hoped to high heaven she hadn’t stepped in anything gooey lately.
“I made some pastries,” Jo Ellen said as she pushed the door shut, imprisoning B.J. in the house with her. “The kitchen’s this way.”
She started off, and B.J. was helpless but to follow.
Jo Ellen Rawlings-Gerhardt was pageant-queen pretty. With her petite build and flawless complexion, she certainly didn’t look like a farmer’s wife. But B.J. couldn’t fault the woman her choice in men. Cooper Gerhardt was as masculine as Jo Ellen was feminine. He had one of those body-builder physiques with a golden Adonis’s head pasted on his hunky, muscular shoulders.
