Somethin' Dirty: Country Fever, Book 4 (20 page)

Just as Molly had once said a cowboy with a daughter named Lyric was written in the stars.

Nola’s heart turned over. “I’ll take them.”

Molly’s eyes flared wide. “You don’t know how much they are!”

“I saw the price on the box. I’m splurging. Sometimes you can’t pass up something so perfect when it falls into your lap.”

Molly’s mouth tipped into a sly smile. “I have a feeling we’re not only talking about boots. But okay, I’ll write them up. Thanks for the commission.”

Chapter Thirteen

Griffin watched the last of the farm implements he was selling rattle away in the back of a farmer’s truck. He told himself he hadn’t needed those old tractor attachments or mowing decks. But fact was, he hated selling his stuff.

No, that wasn’t entirely true. He hadn’t minded giving up the motorcycle to Taylor. That money had paid Miranda’s tuition and housing for the year, a few bills he was behind on and got him four new horses. A small nest egg waited for him to buy a ring, but he’d been stalling.

Now he was selling items to put a nice buffer back into his bank account. He hated running on empty.

His ma was still in the hospital after a successful surgery, but he was run ragged between ranch, daughter and hospital. And to make things worse, Nola had been distant with him.

He felt her slipping away by the minute. She had enough money to leave.

“I need to do Nashville, Griffin. I know you understand.”

He’d stared at her profile. She lay in his bed—he could still taste her arousal on his lips. He sure as hell didn’t understand what was going on between them or how they would possibly end in anything but heartache.

He skimmed her torso with the flat of his hand. “When will you go?”

She pivoted her head to look at him. The expression in her eyes made his stomach plummet. “I know you’re hoping your ma can handle herself soon. And Lyric needs a nanny…”

Agitation ripped through his gut. He patted her hip. “Don’t you worry about us. You do what you need to do.”

Can’t believe I said that.
It was five thousand miles away from what he needed to tell Nola. But for some reason the words were locked up in him. He’d convinced Miranda to drop her dreams for nine months—he couldn’t ask Nola to do anything of the sort. His demands of Miranda—to have the baby, to marry him—got him single father status.

Fresh annoyance bombed any good feelings he may have possessed at having cash in his pocket. He closed the doors of the outbuilding and strode toward the house. The weather had finally turned, and steam ribboned from the ground as the sun burned off the dew.

Lyric had been cranky this morning, having awakened several times during the night. The last time, Griffin had rocked her for an hour before she’d finally drifted off. When he’d left her with Nola this morning, she’d been gnawing on her fists with the purpose of cutting a tooth.

He steeled himself to greet an equally grouchy Nola. He also needed to call his ma at the hospital and check in. Tonight he and Lyric would head into Reedy for a visit, but he had some chores to do around home first.

The new horses were thriving, but they needed a bigger space to roam. He had the fencing supplies. Now he needed the time to put into the task.

First he needed a cold drink.

His shirt clung damply to his shoulder blades. Swallowing hard at the thought of an ice-cold tea trickling down his throat, he increased his pace.

By the time he reached the house, he’d almost found some calm headspace. But when he discovered Lyric red-faced with rage in the baby seat, his mood rocketed into the stratosphere.

“Where’s Nola?” He bent and unbuckled Lyric. As he lifted her, she kicked against him, wailing in his ear. He patted her back and went through the house, looking for Nola.

He called her name a few times before she emerged from the bathroom, still drying her hands on a towel. He took one look at her sweet, innocent face and hated himself for ever getting involved with her.

She’d leave Reedy and become a big-time star. He’d be a distant memory, a guy she’d hardly recall after some hot country celebrity got his hands on her.

“Why the hell did you leave Lyric all alone in the kitchen?”

Her face scorched. “I was going to the bathroom,” she said through clenched teeth.

Ignoring her response, he whirled around and stomped through the house.

“You’re leaving mud on the floors. I just vacuumed.”

“Yeah, well, I was greeted by my daughter’s screams. I didn’t think to take off my boots.”

“Well you should. She was fine. People have to walk away sometimes.”

He knew she was right, but the snowball of agitation had already started rolling downhill. He slashed a hand through the air. “What about dishes? Did you make up bottles?”

Nola’s mouth tightened. “I’m getting to it. Just because some people begin their day at the butt-crack of dawn doesn’t mean all of us do.”

He pushed a breath through his nose and rummaged around the freezer for a cold teething ring. Using it to plug Lyric’s mouth, he glared at Nola. Last night she hadn’t done more than give him a cold peck on the mouth, which was quite the departure from the wildcat who’d asked him to fuck her ass in the shower.

To make it worse, she’d shown up wearing a pair of new blue cowgirl boots that tormented the hell out of him. His cock jerked now just thinking about how her tanned calves had looked against that blue leather.

She glared back at him for a brief moment before spinning to the sink. With jerky movements she plugged the bowl and filled it with water so hot it made the hair at her temples curl.

“Oh, and your mother called. She’d like you to come down to the hospital before four o’clock because that’s when the doctor makes his rounds.”

“And you didn’t think you should come out and tell me that?”

She glanced over her shoulder, giving him a clear look at her angry expression. “No. Why are you acting like such an ass?”

“Me? I’m trying to do my job, Nola. Take care of the ranch, a kid, my sick ma and you.”

She whirled around and placed her wet, soapy hands on her hips. “Me?”

“Yeah.” Goddammit, he wanted to take care of her in a thousand different ways. But she was drifting away from him on the sea that stretched between youth and weighed-down, middle-aged cowboy who couldn’t bring himself to tether her to Reedy, to his ranch.

To him.

They stared at each other for a full minute. When he didn’t respond to her, she shook her hands, flicking soap bubbles all over the floor. Then she strode into the mudroom.

He followed her, Lyric still in his arms and a black coal in his heart. “Where are you going?”

She shoved her feet into her blue cowgirl boots and twisted to look at him. “I’m leaving. I don’t need to take this kind of abuse from an employer for taking a bathroom break. If I can’t do your dishes right or take your messages to your satisfaction, I recommend finding someone who can.”

With that she shot out the door. He strode after her, wanting so badly to catch her in his arms and apologize, to say he was the biggest idiot in the world. Or drop to his knees and beg her to marry him again.

But he stopped halfway to the driveway and watched her go.

The coal in his chest grew cold. He placed a kiss on Lyric’s silky forehead and realized the sun was shining but he’d danced better in the rain.

“Have you called her?” His mother’s voice was weak.

Griffin snapped his mind back and tore his gaze from the hospital window overlooking the parking lot. “No.”

His ma pressed her lips together but said nothing.

Maybe he should call Nola. Or better yet show up at her house as he’d done before. Only this time he had no idea how to bridge the gulf he’d created between them.

He heaved a sigh. “You gonna be all right for the night, Ma? I have to make a stop for diapers on the way home.” Lyric lay in his arms, fast asleep after a fussy day. Finally some pain reliever had zonked her out.

His ma gave a watery smile and nod. Her eyes drooped with fatigue, but she looked a hundred percent better than she had after her surgery a few days before. The doctor felt positive about her outlook, which was amazing news but somehow solidified the fact that Griffin was a total asshole.

The people in his life could disappear too easily.

“I’m gonna get going, Ma.” He stood, and Lyric sighed in her sleep. He leaned in to kiss his mother on the cheek. “Love ya. I’ll be back tomorrow. Get some rest.”

“I will.” That was all she said, but he heard
stop being a jerk
in his head.

When he got to the drugstore, Lyric had awakened. He got her out of the car seat and carried her into the store. She seemed content for the moment, but it was only a matter of time before her teeth started hurting again. He’d better pick up more pain meds.

He made a beeline for the diapers when he glimpsed red hair.

His heart lurched.

Not strawberry blonde.
Red, you dumbass.

But when he approached, he saw it was Nola’s sister. They looked right at each other, and a dark snake of knowing slithered through his stomach.

Molly moved toward him slowly. Her face was closed. Though she wasn’t giving anything away, she didn’t have to. He knew.

“She’s gone, isn’t she?”

Tears sprang to Molly’s eyes, and she dropped her gaze. “Yes, today. She packed her car and took off right after lunch.”

God, that long ago? How far could she have gotten in that amount of time? She’d be most of the way across Texas. Panic seized him.

Lyric squawked, and he lurched into action. “I’d best be on my way.”

After making his purchases, he practically ran out of the store, away from the bearer of the news that made him ache. He got into the truck, barely breathing around the tears that clogged his throat or the hot knife of regret in his gut.

Nola was gone—on the road with the money he’d paid her, her guitar and a pipe dream.

He scrubbed both hands over his face. When he spoke to Lyric, his voice was strained. “Well, little girl, it’s you and me again.”

She blinked at him with wide eyes.

He folded his hand around her chubby fist inside his and shook it lightly. Moisture glazed his eyes as he thought of all he’d thrown away.

Nola sucked in a deep breath, filling her lungs to bursting. Then she flicked her fingers to release her nerves and let out all of her air. She pushed through the door of the music agent’s office and was immediately dazzled.

Posters of country music legends plastered the walls along with framed gold records. The posh décor screamed money. And Nola was determined to be part of it.

She approached the long, shiny desk where the receptionist sat. The desk was lacquered a bright purple, so shiny Nola could catch her reflection in it. Even the employee looked like a celebrity.

Nola smoothed her hand over her skirt nervously. She’d gone all-out with her attire today. A gauzy skirt, fitted corset top and her new blue cowgirl boots for luck. The leather belt around her hips looked as if a country song might have been written for it, and the bracelets lining her wrist completed the ensemble.

She’d spent two hours culling this costume for five minutes in the agent’s office. And she wouldn’t even get to see him today. Her voice had won her this chance, and she had to emanate country music from head to toe. In the end though, the flash drive locked in her fist would get her through those double doors.

Channeling that confidence, she gave her best smile.

“Yes?”

“Nola Brady. I’m dropping off a flash drive as requested.”

The woman’s jacket had to have cost as much as Nola’s car. Suddenly she wondered if she looked nice enough. Even the receptionist’s lipstick looked expensive. Nola’s had come from the Reedy drugstore clearance bin.

A deep ache for her hometown began in her core. She’d never been away from her happy family for this long. After a month, she found she missed other things she never dreamed of too—the sun sinking low over the mountains surrounding the sleepy town. The crush of summer tourists. She missed The Hellion on karaoke night even though she’d belted out a song in a different hotspot every night here in Nashville.

The Nashville crowds seemed to respond as well as the Reedy ones. Sooner or later she was banking on an agent or talent scout being in the audience.

When the receptionist checked her computer screen, Nola swallowed her nervousness. “Yes, you’re on the list. I’ll take the flash drive.”

Nola held out the silver device and dropped it onto the woman’s smooth palm. Her manicured nails closed around it.

“You’ll hear from us within a week if we’re interested. Good luck.” Something about the way the employee said that made Nola think of home. Maybe because her tone was genuine, and Nola hadn’t encountered that very often in the past month.

She thanked the receptionist and headed back out of the office, crossing her fingers and toes that this was it. Hell, she’d even cross her eyes all the way down in the elevator if it helped.