Somethin' Dirty: Country Fever, Book 4 (16 page)

She burst out into the cool night air, relief coursing through her veins. She settled her gaze on her car and quickened her step.

A crunch of boots on gravel behind her raised hairs all over her body. It was him. She knew it.

Don’t look back. Just get to the car.
She delved a hand into her neckline, located her car keys stuffed safely in her bra and pulled them free. Holding the jagged metal between the knuckles of her first two fingers made her feel slightly more in control. If he came at her, she’d strike with the sharp key. Hopefully that would buy her enough time to get to her car.

The steps behind her grew faster, closer. Her breathing hitched in her lungs. Forty more paces to the car. Why, oh why had she parked this far away?

Actually, she didn’t have a choice. When she’d arrived, the lot had been packed.

“Where’s the fire, little lady? Oh yeah, in my pants.”

The door of The Hellion opened again, and music pulsed out. Nola shot a glance over her shoulder, praying the person who’d exited would act as a buffer between her and the stalker.

Part of her mind dipped low, thinking this was all her fault—that she shouldn’t have paraded herself in front of all those people. She’d only been asking for something like this to happen.

Then she got angry. No, she wasn’t at fault. This guy needed to be put in his place.

“Stay away from me,” she called out in a voice firmer than she felt inside.

A truck bounced into the parking lot, headlights washing over her. Then the engine revved, and the tires spun gravel as the driver stepped on the gas.

She took off toward her car, cursing her heels on the uneven ground. Her heart thrummed, a trapped bird with the chance at freedom. Her guitar thumped her outer thigh.

“Hey, you crazy sonofabitch!” the stalker hollered.

The truck braked in a spray of gravel, and Nola reached her car as the driver got out. Big shoulders passed before his headlights as he went after her stalker.

“You bugging this woman?”

The voice sliced through Nola.

Griffin. She dropped her guitar and watched him make a lunge at the stalker. How the hell had he found out? Had he been parked in the dark, watching her escape?

The stalker danced back a few steps and said something she couldn’t hear. Griffin strode forward, his body rolling like a predator’s. She shivered and wrapped her arms around her middle.

“What did you say?” Griffin barked.

This time she heard the stalker loud and clear. “You her daddy?”

“That’s what I thought you said.” Griffin threw himself forward. He and the stalker landed in a pile of thrashing limbs and angry words.

Shaking, Nola ran to them. Headlights glared over their bodies. The stalker threw a punch, and Griffin caught his fist. A quick twist made the man howl and fall back, grunting in pain.

Griffin climbed to his feet and glared down at him. “Better wander back inside and call 911. I’m pretty sure you just dislocated your elbow.”

“Motherfucker!”

Nola made a sound, and Griffin looked right at her. In the ring of light, he appeared to be an avenging angel. “You okay?”

“Y-yes.”

“Get your guitar and get in my truck.”

His command sent a heated thrill right to her pussy, but her heart bucked in disobedience.

“No, I can make it home now.”

“Don’t make me put you in my truck, Nola. Get. In.” When she didn’t budge, he pressed his lips together and his shoulders sagged. “Please?”

She passed a shaky hand over her face then nodded. She wouldn’t go home with him, wouldn’t fall into his arms again. They had to break off this insane love affair before she was mired too deep to follow her dreams.

He watched her as she gathered her guitar, standing sentry over the man writhing on the ground. When Nola neared, Griffin took the guitar from her and placed it in the back of his truck. Then he opened the passenger’s door and gestured for her to get in.

She did, barely making the climb in her heels and short skirt. At her struggle, he gripped her hips and boosted her in. She bounced and locked her knees together, her arms around her chest.

Griffin got in too and closed them inside the truck. Silence was a thousand pounds of concrete on her chest, smothering her.

“How’d you find out?” she squeaked.

His angry glare might be for her or the residue of his fury with the stalker. “Rick saw the guy hassling you and called me.”

“How’d you get here so fast?”

“You’re not the only one who can make it from Needle’s Pass to Reedy in twenty minutes.”

Damn, she was linked too tightly to Griffin already. People were starting to connect them in their minds.

Her shaking started in earnest. Griffin plucked her into his arms and deposited her on his lap. She tried to scramble off. His touch would be her undoing—tears threatened.

“Goddammit, woman. Don’t you see you’re in shock? Do you think a little country gal like you is scared half out of her wits every day?”

His words infuriated her. He made her seem like some dim-witted young girl, unable to handle herself.

What would I have done? That guy’s a hundred pounds heavier. He could toss me over his shoulder like a hay bale.

Her stomach bottomed out, making her glad she hadn’t drunk anything.

Griffin flexed his arms around her, bringing her nose against his soft flannel shirt. His piney scent and warmth almost stole her control. He felt so right. And he’d hurt a man to keep her safe.

Maybe she was an innocent, cut from the bolt of country cloth that would act as a net for her, keeping her from being savvy enough to survive in any other environment.

Like Nashville.

She swallowed hard and pushed away from Griffin’s chest. He let her move but kept his arms wreathed loosely around her back.

“Come home with me,” he said hoarsely.

She drowned in his dark tones and all they implied. Shaking her head, she said, “No.”

“Let me take you home then.”

She couldn’t sit in the same vehicle with him and not want his lips on every inch of her body. She shook her head again. “I’ll drive myself. Go home, Griffin.”

He twisted his gaze from hers. She nearly buckled at the hurt etched across his handsome features. The errant lock of hair that always fell into his eyes drooped, and she clenched her fingers to keep from brushing it away.

She reached for the door handle. He released her, and she climbed out. He didn’t move to help her down though her legs were obviously trembling. She glanced at the ground in front of the headlights. The stalker must have crawled off while she sat in Griffin’s arms.

Nola retrieved her guitar and made it back to her car before her tears broke loose. The dam shoring up her self-doubt crumbled. She slid behind the wheel and let the drops trickle down her face.

Only when she backed out did Griffin drive away too, headed in the other direction, up to Needle’s Pass.

She couldn’t keep her thoughts from touching on his ma, who been picked up at the hospital and been set up in the guest room again. He’d probably awakened her to sit with Lyric so Griffin could come and save the day.

His words dug into Nola’s psyche. She was all country, had only ever visited a handful of cities. Her family vacationed in the mountains in a tent, not in New York City. She’d been sheltered from dangers, living all of her years under her parents’ roof. She’d never dealt with a belligerent neighbor or even an irate customer.

By the time she rolled into her driveway, she felt so low. Disheartened.

Molly opened the door for her after she knocked five times. “Where the hell’s your key?”

“Couldn’t fit it in my bra.” She straggled past her sister, guitar in hand.

Molly shut the door and spun on her. The woman wore only a camisole and a scrap of lace for panties, always ready for action that had yet to come. “Can’t fit a whole hell of a lot in that outfit.”

“You’re one to talk.” Nola set down her guitar, annoyance instantly roused.

“You have a good time tonight?”

“Not so much,” Nola said softly.

“That man of yours show up to hear you sing?”

“No…” He showed up for other reasons. Maybe the most important reasons.

“I knew it,” Molly said. “You finally drove him away, didn’t you? Don’t you realize a man like that only comes into your life once? You let him go and you’re left with drunks, cheaters, liars, lazy asses. You’re throwing away something great—”

“Shut. Up.” Nola glared at her sister. Too well she realized she might be making the error of her life, but she couldn’t very well tow him, his sick ma and Lyric across the country to reach her dream of becoming a country singer. Even hauling them in her mind would be too much baggage.

After tonight, she felt so close to that goal. The crowd loved her—her songs.

Griffin’s low voice revolved around her head all of a sudden.
Only one lyric important enough to sing to you.

“I’m going into the studio.”

“Make sure you don’t wake us again,” Molly spat and strode away.

Nola stifled a growl and took her guitar into the basement studio. She only lit one lamp and sat in the golden ring of light, a meager spotlight where she sang not her own song, but Griffin’s.

Chapter Ten

“You doin’ all right, Ma?” Griffin held her elbow and guided her out of the sedan his mother drove before she got sick. She was still far from her normal, hardy self but today she seemed less fragile.

“Yeah, yeah. Stop coddling me.” She waved but wore a smile. From the backseat where her car seat was secured, Lyric squawked, ready to get out too.

“Just a second, sweetheart.” He made eye contact with her, and she flapped.

Dragging Lyric to the hospital for chemotherapy and blood work wasn’t ideal, but he was faring. Just as he was making it work to have her in the barn. He strapped her into the bouncy chair and put it somewhere safe while he worked. She didn’t mind watching him shovel or feed animals. And she often stared at the birds flitting through the rafters.

But this wouldn’t work forever. His daughter’s feet were already hanging off the edge of the seat. Another month and she also wouldn’t put up with not being mobile. Since the night she’d rolled off the bed, she’d begun to roll all over the place. He’d put her on a blanket on the living room floor and a few minutes later find her in the kitchen.

And fuck, he missed Nola’s presence in his bed.

She’d done so much for him around the house. Just having a break from folding miniature laundry or mixing formula had been welcomed.

But he missed her in the way a man did a woman, with a bone-deep need. To hear her voice, listen to her singing. Feel her wrapped around every damn inch of him.

His ma waited on the sidewalk while he snagged the baby seat from the car. His chest was tight. Today his mother would find out whether or not the cancer had stalled enough to operate.

She still faced a radical mastectomy, but they could deal with that.

The doctor’s office was jam-packed. He let his ma take the only available seat and leaned against the wall, Lyric in her seat at his feet. She blinked up at him and he pulled a face that made her give a drooly grin.

Glancing up, he caught a woman smiling at him. Around his age with a wide-eyed beauty. She sat beside a woman who was probably her mother.

He looked her over more closely. She was in the same stage of life as he was. He stole a look at her bare ring finger. Perhaps she was divorced with kids and also bearing the responsibility of a loved one’s illness. He could smile at her and start a conversation. Take her to dinner.

But he wasn’t looking for a companion. One had just fallen into his lap when Nola took the nanny job.

He gave the woman a little nod. Then Lyric started churning her arms and legs, gearing up to scream, he bent and unbuckled her, pulling her free. He straightened with her hooked in his arm, facing forward so she could look around.

The woman across the space smiled wider. “She’s beautiful.”

“Thank you.” He jiggled Lyric a bit, more out of nervousness than because she fussed. He didn’t want to get to know anyone but a little country singer with a spitfire attitude and the voice of an angel.

She was headed to Nashville soon. It had been a week since the night he raced to her at The Hellion, but a few well-timed questions at the drugstore about the family had let him know she hadn’t left yet.

The nurse opened the door to the waiting room and called a name. The woman he’d spoken to stood and helped her mother to her feet. They made their way into the office.

He felt his shoulders droop in relief. Lyric made a few angry noises, so he plugged her mouth with a finger. She gnawed on him for a bit. Drool slid down the back of his hand.

His ma was engrossed in a health magazine, reading with her glasses pushed down her nose. She wore a simple, chic scarf around her head today. The red color flattered her and made her look almost okay.