Somethin' Dirty: Country Fever, Book 4 (21 page)

The thought made her think of Molly, who’d been a master eye crosser as a kid. Their mother had battled an entire year of first grade where Molly looked at everyone like a half-wit, tongue lolling to the side and eyes crossed. Even her school picture had sported slightly crossed eyes.

Nola made the ride down to the ground level. Then she strode through the sleek lobby to the glass doors. Each day some of her fears trickled away as she learned a new street, a new pub or little opry tucked in an obscure section of town.

That first day she’d arrived, she’d almost peed her pants with excitement and terror.
And heartbreak. Can’t forget that.

If Griffin had asked her to marry him again, she would have said yes. In fact she’d waited for it day and night, but in the end he’d only pushed her away.

She firmly shoved that burning ache in her chest down and slammed a door on it. Locking it into a vault was the only way she could deal with it. On the cross-country drive she’d shed enough tears for a lifetime. The old trail of tears.

Pushing through the doors outside, she drank in the bustle of the city and tried to rid herself of her desire for a place called Needle’s Pass.

She was better off here, pursuing her dream. In the time she’d been here, she’d entered four contests and gotten recognition. In a bar called Belts and Boots, she’d placed in their monthly contest, which had earned her the right to pass along a sample of her music to an agent.

A thrill hit her belly at what she’d just done.

This could be it. Her break.

She wandered down the sidewalk, staring at her surroundings. Between the architecture and the culture change, she was enraptured with Nashville. After only two weeks she’d run out of money and had to snag a waitressing job, but she didn’t even mind that. Talking to people was fun, you never knew who you’d end up serving…and it reminded her of home.

Releasing a sigh, she admitted to herself it was probably time to call her family. She tried to keep those calls to a minimum. Never emotional, her father was short on the phone, asking about her job and the economy apartment she rented. She let him believe it was a decent place to live, but really she hated the peeling wallpaper and the noise from the other tenants.

No, she hated it because she’d heard gunshots on more than one night, and just being in the place made her bowels turn to water. When she didn’t need to sleep, she avoided it at all costs.

On the phone her mother sounded weepy and asked about her diet. Was she eating well? Did she have enough?

Nola had assured her that yes, she was getting a discount at the restaurant, and there was plenty of fresh fruit and vegetables in Tennessee.

But talking to Molly…that really gutted Nola. Because the day she’d left, Nola had blubbered all over the place and confided her love for Griffin.

Molly shook her head in dazed awe. “Well, that’s awesome, Nola!”

“No, it’s not,” she’d spat, throwing a fistful of bras into her suitcase. “Love isn’t beautiful or a fairy tale. It’s a pain in the ass.”

“Why? Because you can’t take it to Nashville with you?” Molly picked up a bra and dangled it from her finger. “I’m sure you can pack it away inside your heart. Come back for weekend flings with Griffin and have video sex when you’re apart.”

Nola battled her tears. Her nose was clogged and her skin too hot, too tight. She wanted to unzip it, peel it off and discard it like a chrysalis. Then she could really fly in Nashville.

“It’s not going to work with Griffin. He doesn’t like me.”

“What?” Molly sat on the bed.

“He just…” Nola gave up trying to neatly fold a pair of jeans and wadded them in the bottom of the suitcase. She glanced at Molly’s compassionate expression and almost broke down. “He thinks I’m young and incompetent. I don’t do the dishes when I should or do right by Lyric.”

“He hasn’t complained all this time you’ve been working for him.”

“Oh yes, he has. And today was the last time.”

Nola jerked herself from the memory. Tears stung, and she wished she could suck them back in. As carefully as possible she ran her forefingers under her eyes, trying not to disturb her mascara. This afternoon she planned to camp out in another music executive’s office and get some attention.

She crossed the street and headed down a tree-lined stretch. As she passed a silver birch tree, she dragged her fingers across the bark and tipped her face up to stare at the leaves.

God, she wanted Griffin. Right now, what would he be doing? Was he happy? Were Lyric and Alice thriving?

Molly would know.

That’s exactly why Nola didn’t want to call her.

Yet every cell in her being longed to.

I’m a mess.

She drifted toward a park bench. As she reached it, two young guys eyed her. Good old boys wearing jeans and T-shirts, reminding her too much of home.

“Love the boots,” one commented with a flick of his head.

“Thanks.” She had a love-hate relationship with these boots. They represented all the hopes she’d hung on Griffin. A path she’d never dreamed she’d follow. Yet he’d gripped her tight and pulled her down the path only to show her it was a dead end.

“You gotta be a singer. You just look like a singer.”

She smiled at the feeling of warmth his words infused. “I am.”

“Let me guess. You’re fresh off the bus, looking for a big break,” the other guy said. He was dark-haired and brown-eyed. Griffin’s coloring, but compared to the man she loved, these guys looked like high school kids.

Damn, she really was tainted forever.

“I’m pursuing my singing career, yes.”

“We know of a few places talent scouts frequent. We could probably get you in.”

“Yeah?” Her rule of always being polite had paid off more than once in this town.

“You got a phone?” The first guy pulled his from his back pocket.

Nola blinked at it, expecting to see a baby monitor. Her throat closed off. Dipping her head, she rummaged in her purse for her cell. “Right here.”

“Add my number. Call me tonight and I’ll give you a list of places you can try.”

“Thanks.” She smiled, but it felt wrong on her face—wobbly, splatted on with glue that didn’t do the job. The smile slid off her face, and she didn’t try to put it back. She added the guy’s number and gave a parting wave.

Then she continued on down the street. Her thumb roved over the keys of her cell on its own. She brought it to her ear. “Molly.”

“Can’t talk now, sis. I’m with a customer.”

Nola’s heart plummeted. She dragged her feet, scraping her heels on the sidewalk. What she wouldn’t give to be knee-deep in the field with her hand in Griffin’s and Lyric in her arm right now.

She started crying.

Molly’s voice projected into her ear, frenzied and guilt-ridden at once. “Oh hey, I’m sorry. I can talk. Mitchell, you’re doin’ all right there on your own, aren’t ya? Yeah, I thought. Okay, Nola. What’s going on?”

Nola gave a huge sniff.

“You’re failing.”

“What? No, I just got started. I’d hardly call it a failure yet.”

“You thought you’d jump right onto the scene with a big record deal.”

“No, I never thought that—”

Her sister cut her off. “Now you’ve realized what you had here wasn’t so bad. That there are other dreams worth pursuing.”

“Oh shut up, Molly.” Her tears vanished, replaced by anger. “You don’t know anything about it. I’m sorry I called you.”

“I know you only called to probe for information about Griffin.”

Nola stopped breathing.

“So I’m not wrong.”

Nola heard Molly shuffling hangers as she probably revolved through the store, straightening merchandise. She wanted to ask about Griffin, but her stubborn will kept her from opening her mouth.

Finally Molly said, “Have it your way. Don’t ask. I’ve gotta run now, Nola. Mitchell’s ready to check out.”

The phone clicked, and Nola growled. She stared at the digital display for a minute, unsure whether to hurl the phone into the gutter or get her sister back on the line. Dammit, Nola did want to hear about Griffin.

She dropped her phone into her purse again and hurried on. If she arrived at the music executive’s office around lunchtime, she might get a glimpse of him. All she needed was one person to talk to her, listen to her sing, give her a chance. She was sure of it.

She also possessed a bone-deep surety that Griffin was not okay either. What had he told her once?
I don’t do long nights well.

Since leaving, Nola had asked herself dozens of times whether he loved her or just having someone near. She was convenient. A single dad didn’t get a lot of dating opportunities. She’d fallen into his arms at The Hellion that night, then later into his lap when he took her home.

Nola had taken on the role of mother to Lyric, which obviously appealed to Griffin. And too easily she’d slipped into his bed and become his lover.

Any woman might have fulfilled his needs.

She fought her emotions and headed into a corner store for a bottle of sweet tea. But even slaking her thirst reminded her of Griffin because he made better sweet tea.

“Dammit.” She screwed the cap on with a jerk of her wrist. Disgusted with herself, she steeled her resolve and set out for the executive’s office. She would forget about her failed relationship and dashed dreams of tying herself to that man. And she’d return to her first love—singing.

An hour later she posed against a column in the lobby of the exec’s office, hoping he’d come out and ask her name. Her purse was filled with flash drives. She’d hand him one and he’d nod and smile. Then he’d ask her to join him for lunch, where she’d convince him she was the hottest new talent country music had seen in a decade.

But late in the afternoon, she gave up and let her fantasy swirl down the mental toilet. No one was going to see her, and she had to be at work in an hour.

Rushing across town to her apartment only made her feel more strung-out. By the time she donned her uniform of swingy denim skirt, plaid top and felt cowgirl hat, she was ready for a soak in a hot bath.

Damn, even that makes me think of Griffin.

With a growl, she locked her apartment and turned to run down the flight of stairs. Her ring tone blared from the depths of her purse, and she dug around for it without looking.

“Yeah?”

“Umm…Miss Brady?”

Her heart spasmed at the unfamiliar voice. “Yes, it’s Nola.”

“Mr. Duvall has listened to your flash drive and would like to invite you to audition for him. Tuesday at 7:00 p.m.”

Nola fist-punched the air and contained her shriek of glee. “That’s so exciting.”
Don’t scream. Don’t scream.
“I’ll be there. Thank you.”

After ending the call, she stared at the caller ID for ten full seconds. Yes, it was real. She had an audition.

At work she spread her grins and good mood all over the place and earned two hundred dollars in tips. It was the best day of her life.

Except she didn’t have anyone to share it with.

Tuesday at exactly 7:01 p.m., Nola sank to a leather sofa in the agent’s private office with her guitar and wearing her best country star outfit. She’d spent days rehearsing her song. Now she’d wow them with not only her voice but her writing abilities.

But when she opened her mouth, the first line of Griffin’s song burst from her.

Chapter Fourteen

The Reedy grocery store boasted exactly two square feet worth of baby food. The glass jars were lined up on two shelves, perfect rows with labels facing forward.

Griffin stared at them, at a loss for what to do. The books all said to start babies on bland vegetables first. But his first attempt at giving Lyric carrots had ended with him sporting orange polka dots. Same with green beans.

“Whattaya think, little girl? Does squash sound good?”

Lyric sat up in the shopping cart, chubby fists wrapped around the handle. She kicked her little socked feet and gave him a two-toothed grin. At six months old, she’d suddenly learned how to sit up and popped two new teeth in a week. Now at eight months she was terrorizing Griffin by dragging herself across the floor.

“Today it’s baby food. Tomorrow skinny jeans. Gah.” He rubbed a hand over his face and resumed his perusal of the jarred food. His ma had recommended ignoring the pediatrician’s advice to go slowly and try one food at a time, and just give Lyric several new foods at once.

Griffin liked the smorgasbord idea, but what if Lyric had a food reaction? Then he wouldn’t know what she was allergic to.

“You don’t like anything anyhow,” he muttered. Plucking a jar off the shelf, he turned it to read the label. It had roasted sweet potato flavor. Was it flavor or real sweet potatoes? Hell, he could cook a potato. Maybe he needed to forget about jars and get down to basics.

Lyric squealed, and a lady pushing a cart past them stopped to smile. “Aren’t you the sweetest little thing? I’m sure Daddy has his hands full with you.”

Griffin centered his gaze on the woman. She was in her late thirties, her warm brown hair grazing her shoulders in soft waves. He didn’t know her, but he’d seen her around town.