Somethin' Dirty: Country Fever, Book 4 (8 page)

“Uh-huh.” Molly sucked on her straw, filling her cheeks with virgin margarita.

Irritation wove through Nola. “Why can’t we have alcoholic margaritas, Mom? We’re all adults.”

Her mother flicked her head toward the liquor cabinet. “Help yourself if it makes you feel better, but my guess is the lack of tequila isn’t what has your guitar out of tune.”

Molly leaned across the table. “I think it’s one hot cowboy daddy.”

Nola shoved away from the table, gathered her plate and dumped the contents into the trash. “I’m going to the studio to practice.” Without waiting for a reply, she sailed out of the room.

As she navigated the basement stairs to her home music studio, she ground her teeth. Her family just wanted her to forget about becoming a singer and to latch onto something close to home. Simple job, married life. Children.

She wasn’t ready, and she might never be. Music was in her blood. Everywhere she went people told her she should try for a music career. She wouldn’t be satisfied with herself until she did.

She scooped up her guitar and sank to the edge of her chair. Her fingers worked the strings without thought, and a new tune that had been revolving in her head all afternoon started to emerge. As she toyed with the new melody, she forgot about Lyric and Griffin. By the time the words started to materialize in her mind, she was certain she walked on the right path.

Get enough money to get to Nashville and follow my dreams
. Griffin was just a hand up to her dream. Too bad the mere thought of the rough older man made every nerve ending inside her spark.

Chapter Five

Griffin tucked the baby monitor in his back pocket and stole out into the night. The air wrapped around him, cool and crisp. After a dirty dream of Nola bare naked and his fingers buried in her sweet pussy, he welcomed the outdoors.

Damn, that woman was trouble. Too young for him, and now that he knew she was headed to Nashville, he needed to steer clear. The last thing he and Lyric needed was to be a stop on Nola’s tour.

As Griffin strode across the dew-spangled grass to the barn, his mind clicked into rancher mode. Late in the evening one of his cows had started laboring. He usually let them toil on their own for a while, checking intermittently for trouble. Now that Lyric was sleeping for her long stretch, it was the perfect time to check the cow.

The instant he stepped into the barn, he smelled trouble. Fear and pain had their own odor. And the sickness mingled with it was a dead giveaway.

He yanked the chain overhead and lit the bare bulb in the center of the barn. It cast a thin glow over the stall where the heifer was on its side, eyes rolling wildly.

“Damn.” Griffin dropped to his knees in the hay and ran his hands over the cow. Her stomach rippled with the baby that was obviously trapped.

Launching back to his feet, his mind raced ahead.
Get the chain and the homemade rig used to exert pressure. Phone’s in my back pocket in the event I need to call the vet.

No, he needed to call Ma to come sit with Lyric while he worked with the cow.

As this thought passed through his mind, his stomach clenched. His mother wasn’t in any shape to make a midnight drive to Needle’s Pass.

He slung the chain over his shoulder and lifted the metal rig he’d hand-crank to pull the calf. Then he fished in his pocket for his phone.

A few days ago he’d put Nola on speed-dial—in the event he needed her for an emergency, he’d told himself even as his groin ached with desire.

She answered on the fourth ring. Her throaty voice speared him with lust. Too easily he pictured her tousled hair and tank top slipping down one golden shoulder.

“Nola, it’s Griffin. Can you come up?”

“I—what? Griffin?”

He smiled at the confusion in her tone. Protectiveness surged in his chest. “Yeah…Griffin. I need to pull a calf. Can you sit with Lyric?”

She made a humming noise that caused his cock to jerk. “I guess I could.”

“I’ll give you double pay for the extra hours. And you can sleep as long as she’s sleeping.”

“All right. Just give me…” She paused, and he heard items being tossed around. “Give me half an hour.”

The cow’s body shuddered, and Griffin stretched his lips over his teeth in his own grimace. “Thanks, Nola.”

He hung up and kneeled before the cow again. He set up the rig, feeding the chain to the gear. When he cranked the handle, the chain would tighten. Now he just needed to reach inside the cow and find the calf’s leg.

First he ran his hands over the calf’s outline to detect the way it was laying. He’d done this often enough to know its front legs were bunched up and hindering its birth.

“Damn.” He yanked off his flannel shirt and moved to the back end of the cow. “You’re not gonna like me for this, but in the end, it’s what you need.”

The disgusting work of rooting around inside a cow’s womb and searching for a foreleg took up the next few minutes. When he heard Nola’s tires crunching on gravel, he swore. If he extricated himself from his project now, he might have a harder time later.

“Nola!” he called once he heard the car door close.

When she didn’t respond, he called again. A moment later her footsteps sounded at the door of the barn.

“In here,” he grunted as the cow’s body clamped around his arm, constricting it.

“What the…?” Her boots appeared, and he squinted at her from the corner of his eye. “Yuck!”

“That’s an understatement. Listen, Lyric is sleeping. The house is open. Just go on in and make yourself comfortable on the couch. There’s a baby monitor in the living room already tuned to the Lyric Channel.”

She smiled at that. Hell, she was still mussed from sleep, her hair loose and curling over her forehead, and her baggy sweatpants only added to her allure. “Okay, you just…do what you’re doing here. I’ll take care of Lyric.”

He offered her a smile as he encircled the calf’s leg with his fingers and tugged it downward. “Get some sleep, Nola.”

She stared at where his arm disappeared into the big animal’s body, disgust etched on her pretty face. “I’ll try.” She turned and left the barn. He listened to her crossing the lawn and the front door quietly opening and closing.

Breathing a sigh, he looked at the cow. “You and me now, babe. Let’s do this thing.” With a hard wrench, he guided the calf’s leg forward. The cow groaned. Griffin worked for long minutes to attach the chain to the leg.

His muscles strained. From the baby monitor, he heard a snuffling noise and was instantly on high alert. He pushed away the night sounds—peep frogs and scurrying mice. Then he heard Nola’s soft, soothing croon.

“Shh, baby, it’s okay.”

He pictured her patting Lyric’s spine, calming her back to sleep. She’d probably been the one to disturb Lyric by checking on her.

Griffin smiled and secured the chain. With a grunt, he hunkered back against the side of the stall and used his flannel to wipe his hand. “We’re gonna get your baby free then celebrate with a nice scoop of grain,” he told the heifer.

But half an hour of cranking later, the calf was no closer to being born. Muscles burning and frustration mounting, he prodded the cow’s belly, hoping to guide the baby. What he wouldn’t give for a glass of sweet tea and his bed.

He fell back, out of breath from his efforts. A sweeping glance at the cow’s body told him she wasn’t faring well either. He worked harder. Sweat dripped into his eyes, and he blinked it away.

At that moment, Lyric’s cry rang out from the monitor. He froze and shot a glance at his watch. Hell, he’d been working for two hours and it had felt like minutes. Lyric’s wails echoed through the barn. A second later he heard Nola.

“What’s wrong, little miss? Hungry?”

His pulse tripped at the sweet words. The baby’s cries fell away as Nola obviously carried her through the house to the kitchen. A few minutes of his backbreaking attempts later, Nola’s voice came through the monitor again.

She was singing.

Griffin’s throat thickened. He battled the need to go to her—to put his arms around her and his child and shelter that moment. Instead he was going to have to call the vet, crop up more bills and remain in the barn until dawn seeped into the sky.

Nola’s voice rose and fell in a soft ballad. He’d heard the popular song before, but her unique twist was more compelling. He placed the call to the vet and waited while Nola sang two more songs. Finally, the monitor fell silent.

Griffin swiped his damp forehead with his forearm. Telling himself over and over that Nola was too young, wasn’t for him, didn’t keep brand new feelings from seeping in.

Half an hour later, frustration mounted when the vet arrived and took over the battle for the calf’s life.

“We’ll save your cow, Turner. But we might not be so lucky with the calf,” Rick said.

Griffin set his teeth together and nodded. The sun was mounting the sky. Soon he’d have to clean up and take his mother to the hospital for blood work. He’d be forced to abandon his morning routine with Lyric, and that didn’t set well with him, even if Nola was doing fine.

Time ticked by, and he kept glancing at his watch.

“Got somewhere to be, Turner?” Rick asked, cranking the rig for all it was worth. The calf moved a few inches, and its foot appeared.

Griffin shook his head. “I’ll see this through.”

A few minutes later, the cow gave a huge push, and the calf landed in the hay, still.

“I was afraid of that,” Rick said quietly.

Griffin stared at the newborn, hating that it was lost. Such a big fight to end like this.

His mother’s battle might end the same. And Lyric might grow into a wild child. He may turn out to be a hopeless single parent. Might as well heap on the trouble.

“Goddammit,” he grated out and got to his feet.

“I’ll finish up here. You go inside. You’ve had a longer night than I have, Turner.” Rick nodded to him.

Chest burning with anxiety, Griffin stomped out of the barn. He cleaned up with the frigid water from the outdoor spigot then went into the kitchen, where he used soap.

Around him the house was silent. Nola was feet away, sleeping on the couch, and Lyric wouldn’t be up yet. Griffin stripped off his shirt and poured himself a big glass of that sweet tea he’d been craving.

After a night like this, he wished he could abuse his liver with something harder as he had in his youth, but now Lyric took care of that thought.

A shifting step made him raise his head. Nola stood there, tousled from sleep, her eyes heavy-lidded and her lips ripe.

He might not have any control over a lost calf or his mother’s illness or how much Lyric disobeyed in her teen years, but dammit, he could take what he needed.

In three strides he caught Nola in his arms.

When he slanted his mouth over hers, she gave an all-over shiver. He suctioned his lips against hers, and she gulped in his scent.

This was one hell of a way to wake up. A bare-chested man in the kitchen, wearing an expression of fierce need would melt any woman, especially when she’d lain awake on his couch for hours, thinking about him.

Wanting him to do this very thing.

He took control of the kiss, swirling his tongue over hers until she grew dizzy. Her nipples puckered. When he lightly dragged his teeth over her tongue, her pussy clenched.

Swaying against him, she pressed her aching breasts to his chest. The craving for more was too strong to fight. Since that night at The Hellion, she’d only wanted to feel his rigid length gliding inside her. Now that she knew him a little better, that need was stronger.

Painfully stronger.

She looped her arms around his neck and drowned in his kisses. He rocked his erection against her lower belly—a promise to come.

Every touch, every kiss he’d given her whirled in her brain like a song—a strong man with loneliness in his eyes that vanished when he looked at her. The song could write itself, and maybe later she’d pick it out on her guitar.

Nola tangled her fingers in the longer hair on his nape. He followed her action, twisting his fist in her waves and yanking her head back. She gasped as he dropped his mouth to her throat and licked it like the most sumptuous treat.

Small squeaks emitted from her. If Molly were here she’d stand in the corner clapping with glee. Nola was female after all!
I shouldn’t give in to him. I don’t need a lover when I’m leaving Reedy. And he’s my boss.

Griffin raised his head and their gazes locked. In that moment, a thousand sentiments zapped between them. Her emotions somersaulted and she lost her grip on them.

“Yes,” she whispered, gritty.

“Damn straight,” he growled. In a fluid motion, he plucked her off her feet and spun toward the living room. The warm colors of the space blurred past her vision as she sank her teeth into his earlobe, the side of his neck.

He tugged her head and latched onto the spot above her collarbone until she felt the warmth of a bruise blossom on her skin. By the time he laid her on the sofa and stretched atop her, her panties were totally soaked.