Somethin' Dirty: Country Fever, Book 4 (10 page)

Worry shifted his insides around. He needed to speak with her doctors. His ma knew her own business, but it would ease his mind. He needed order in his life—a game plan. This floating along from moment to moment made him grind his teeth.

Except with Nola. His impromptu romp with her had felt just right, in all ways. Having someone to put his arms around, to lose himself in for a few precious moments, was amazing. And now memories of her seemed to be all over his ranch.

In his truck, he saw her smooth tanned legs that night he’d driven her home from The Hellion. In his house he saw her leaning over his infant daughter. And now he wouldn’t be able to enter the living room without reliving every pass of his cock through her tight walls.

His dick stirred, and he adjusted it. Nola’s scent was all over him, and he longed for more.

Too bad he couldn’t ignore her dreams of getting out of Reedy and pursuing a music career. Lots of young people had dreams like hers.

That was just it—she was young. He’d thrown away caution when he’d taken her body, but he didn’t want to stop doing it either. He wanted her ten ways to Tuesday—from behind, riding him cowgirl style, up against the shower wall and pinned to the cool kitchen tile on a hot summer night.

But he’d only lose himself if he continued. Too easily her warm blue eyes trapped him and made his heart do little flip-flops. No, there was too much at stake. Their lovemaking couldn’t be more than a one-time occurrence. They’d exorcised their demons early this morning and could both walk away from a sexual relationship.

How would she handle it? He relied on her to take care of Lyric. If she gave her resignation, he’d be screwed.

He grabbed his cell and punched a button. After two rings, his friend, Taylor, answered.

“Officer Levy.”

“It’s Griffin.”

“I see that. As a cop, I’m pretty damn good at investigating things such as caller ID.”

Griffin pushed out a laugh and relaxed a fraction. “You’ve been a smartass since high school, Taylor.”

“Thanks. I try. What’s up? You never call.”

It was true that in the past four months since Lyric crash-landed in his world, Griffin hadn’t gotten a free moment for beers or shootin’ the shit. He could tell Taylor about his ma or the dead calf. But he found Nola’s name forming on his lips.

After filling Taylor in about the situation, relief trickled through Griffin like cool water poured over his head after a day in the hot sun.

“I know this girl. Heard her sing at The Hellion. She’s amazing.”

“Yes,” Griffin said.

“And gorgeous.”

His cock throbbed. “Uh-huh.”

“Pretty young thing. Tanned legs and shorty shorts.”

Griffin latched onto the only word that acted as a road block. “Young.”

“You like ’em young. Even as a senior in high school, you dated the freshmen.”

He scuffed a hand over his face. “Damn, you’re right. What’s wrong with me?”

“You’re a man in your prime taking an opportunity with a sweet little morsel.”

“She’s practically a teeny-bopper. Christ, she’s so young.” He groaned into the phone.

Taylor laughed. “She’s not that young. Besides, you’re up for the challenge, man. And she’s got all the woman parts, yes?”

Griffin bit off a growl. “Fuck, yes.”

“What’s the problem? She’s up for it, and you’ve been alone too long.”

Leave it to Taylor to strip the situation down to basic man-talk. “Thanks for the stellar advice, as always. Come up to the ranch and help out this weekend. We’ll have a beer or two.”

A smile sounded in Taylor’s voice. “Nothin’ better than bonding over a steaming pile of manure, Turner. You got it.”

Griffin ended the call and shook his head at his friend’s words. Maybe he was making a big deal out of nothing when it came to Nola.

As he turned his truck down the hill leading into Reedy, his mind kicked into high gear again. Everything mounted, crushing him under the weight of responsibility and worry.

He fought for calm. The whole situation was spiraling out of control. Every cloud ran out of rain sometime, but right now, he was in the eye of the storm.

When he entered his ma’s house, shock tore through him. She lay on the sofa, looking frail and ill. Her pale face was drawn.

Griffin’s heart turned over. He dropped to his knees beside the sofa. “Are you all right?”

She waved a hand. Her old annoyed expression was a relief to him. “Just tired out. Help me up and we’ll go let the nurses bleed me dry.”

He wrapped an arm around her middle and guided her to her feet. She wobbled a little, punctuating her statement that she was tired. Every sweet memory of his ma’s energy and determination to never sit idle blew away with his worst possible thoughts.

Maybe the doctors were wrong.

Could the cancer have spread?

Gut burning, he shoved away his thoughts and led his mother through the small, crowded rooms of the house. Knickknacks needed dusting and something in the kitchen smelled—dirty dishes.

He added tidying the house to his list of to-dos.

After only a few chemo treatments, his mother was a wisp of her vibrant self. He guided her into the truck and when she didn’t move to buckle her seatbelt, he did it for her.

As he walked around the front of the truck, he fought a rising panic. But by the time he got behind the wheel, he’d stomped all over it.

He was going to fight long and hard for his mother if necessary. She’d be fine. Go into remission. Live to watch Lyric crawl, walk, attend her first dance.

At the hospital, he sat with her while they drew blood. Then as they gave her a shot to boost her immune system. By the time he got her tucked into her own bed, he felt as wrung out as she looked.

When he pulled the covers over her, she placed a thin hand on his. “You’re a good man.”

Those tears he’d been wrangling back welled against his lashes. He smiled into her loving brown eyes. “We’ll get through this. I don’t like you here on your own though. Will you move into my guest room?”

Her eyelids drooped. “I’ll think about it. Call me in a few hours, okay? I don’t want to sleep the day away.”

He almost asked why. She could spend a day resting if she damn well pleased, but that just wasn’t his ma. He bent and kissed her cheek. “I will.”

She snuggled under the covers, and he watched her drift off almost instantly. After he hand-washed a few dishes and ran a duster around the rooms, he cracked the blinds to let in some sunlight. Feeling better about leaving her, his mind zeroed in on Lyric—and Nola.

The drive up the steep hill to Needle’s Pass had never seemed so long. His heart sped up as he set eyes on his ranch. From the outside, it appeared to be slumbering, but inside it would pulse with life.

Because his daughter was in there with a woman he could fall in love with.

He practically ran to the front door, prepared to be greeted by smiles.

Instead, all hell was breaking loose.

Nola’s T-shirt clung to the perspiration under her arms as she paced the floor with the screaming baby. She’d tried everything—jiggling, singing, feeding, burping. Nothing stopped the train-whistle shrieks Lyric emitted.

Two hours into it, Nola had called her mother in tears, her hands shaking from her frazzled nerves. Her mother had calmly suggested bundling the baby. If she had colic, the tight wrap might help.

Lyric had kicked and wiggled free in seconds. Nola had wrestled the pink fuzzy blanket around her again, at which point Lyric’s face turned nearly purple with rage.

Terrified, Nola had hastily unwrapped the baby and started walking again. She’d checked her diaper a dozen times. Tried to direct a nipple between the baby’s lips.

She stared at the wall clock. In another hour she’d give in and call Griffin, but she didn’t want to bother him while he was taking care of his mother.

And she didn’t want to seem incompetent.

She did another revolution of the living room with the screeching baby on her shoulder. Every step she laid down felt weighted, and her nerves jangled like spurs on a boot-scootin’ cowboy.

“Shhh, Lyric. Shhh.”

The stiff baby churned her legs. Nola’s hair dripped into one eye and she smelled like spit-up. Lyric’s scream rose and fell beside Nola’s ear, ripping at the last thread of her control. She crossed the room and picked up the phone and put it to her ear.

“Nola.”

It took a heartbeat to realize Griffin’s voice wasn’t projecting through the receiver.

She whirled. Relief swelled in her chest, and tears sprang to her eyes.

“Oh, sweetheart.”

She didn’t know if he was talking to her or the baby, but she didn’t care. He was here, and she could unload this screaming child.

Griffin removed Lyric from her arms and hitched her high on his shoulder. She continued to shriek, and he didn’t even bat an eye. That must mean he’d dealt with this before and Nola hadn’t broken the baby after all.

When he slipped an arm around Nola’s waist and tugged her against his chest, she dissolved into noisy tears.

“How long has she been like this?” His soothing tone made Nola cry harder.

“Since y-you left.” She dragged a disgusting breath into her nose and tried to pull herself together.

“Why didn’t you call me?” His voice held no trace of judgment—only calm understanding.

“I thought I could handle it.”

He gave her a little squeeze and Lyric went through a bout of hiccupping cries. He jiggled her. “Sweetheart, believe me, it takes nerves of steel to deal with Lyric’s colic. You should’ve called.”

She tipped her face up to him, and he smiled. She shoved the hair out of her eyes. “I look awful.”

He shook his head. “Beautiful. In fact, your lips are like ice cream at the county fair.” He swooped in and claimed them. She melted like soft serve in the summer sun.

In the past few hours she’d given herself three talking-tos about breaking things off clean with Griffin before she ended up barefoot and pregnant on his ranch. After the morning she’d spent with Lyric, the idea made her cringe more than ever. But now she took the comfort he offered—drinking in his manly scent and craving more.

He broke the kiss and gave her that crooked bad-boy smile that sent her reeling. “C’mon. I’ll take care of this extremely happy baby while you shower.”

“Shower?”

He grabbed her hand and led her toward his bedroom. Then with Lyric still screaming in his arms, he took the time to turn on the water and find a fluffy towel and washcloth for Nola.

She turned to him, tears still hot in her eyes. “Thank you.”

“I’ll lay one of my shirts on the bed for you. It will work for a few hours. Once Lyric falls asleep, I’ll go out to see to the ranch then you can go on home. You’ve more than put in your time, but I do need you.” The dark words tipped her belly.

She narrowly kept from jumping into his arms, crying baby and all. “I’ll stay until you’re done.”

“I appreciate it.” He patted her ass, lingering over the curve of her cheek. With another smile, he was out the door.

As the baby’s cries drifted across the house, far from Nola, she began to calm. Steam rose around her. She stripped down and climbed under the shower spray, surrounded by the piney scents she associated with Griffin.

Hell, I’m in trouble. Seduced by a hot shower.

She washed away her tears, sweat and the spit-up. For long minutes she let the water course over her skin, thinking of the cowboy in the other room. A man who commanded everything he did. She still felt the evidence of his thorough command between her thighs.

She eased her fingers over her throbbing pussy. His earlier avoidance of her clit made her ache. After their wild sex, she’d been more than satisfied but now…

Was it wrong to finger herself in her boss’s shower?

Why bother being prissy now? She’d already sampled the boss himself.

She circled her hard nubbin, and electric shocks ripped through her. She leaned against the wall, parted her legs farther and stroked her pussy. Closing her eyes and inhaling Griffin’s body wash boosted her fantasy.

In reality all she had to do was walk out naked and let him take control. But it wasn’t fair to either of them. She’d thought this could be a fling before she left for Nashville, but now she wasn’t so sure.

Besides being giving in bed, he was sweet and melted her with a single smoldering look.

Her nipples bunched as she traced a figure eight pattern over her nubbin. Juices oozed from her, and she slid one finger into her pussy—nowhere near a relief after being stretched by the man in the other room.

She rocked against her hand, letting the pressure build.

A shudder rippled down her spine. She started to breathe heavily.

The shower curtain parted, and a wall of muscle crowded her against the wall.

“Started without me, I see.” His gaze burned into hers as he placed his hand over hers—and her mound. “You want me to touch you here?” He nudged her forefinger aside and pressed on her clit.