Somethin' Dirty: Country Fever, Book 4 (5 page)

She shook her head. “I’m not in the dating game.”

Disappointment was ice water trickling over his head, down his shoulders and dousing his desire. So he’d been right in putting on the brakes. He needed a mature woman, not a fling.

“Fair enough.” His ragged voice drew her gaze to him again. “But you have to tell me where you live.”

She gave him an address, and he put the truck into gear, bumping out of the gravel lot toward the hills where rich daddies kept their little girls safe from guys like him.

After chores and a trip to the outpatient oncology center with his mother, Griffin laid Lyric on a quilt on the floor and positioned a baby gym over her. She happily cooed and batted at a cow jumping over the moon that rattled while he looked over his finances.

His ma would undergo a month of chemotherapy in hopes of shrinking the tumor before surgery. He desperately needed backup. He couldn’t exactly haul Lyric into the pasture with him and attempt to care for two hundred head of beef cows.

He tapped his pen against his checkbook and looked at his daughter, who grinned at her toys, mindless of the trouble he was in.

“What am I gonna do with you, little girl?”

The phone pealed, and he removed it from the holder without glancing at the caller ID. “Turner here.”

“Uhh…I’m calling about an ad you placed? Looking for a nanny?” The woman’s voice faltered.

He sat up straighter. Did he know this caller? The voice sounded familiar. Maybe someone he’d run across in town. “Yes, I’m looking for a full-time caregiver for my four-month-old daughter in my home up on Needle’s Pass.”

“I’m interested in the position. What does it pay?”

He gave her a weekly rate, hoping like hell his budget would seriously support it off paper. “What kind of experience do you have?”

“I’ve babysat for many families since I was thirteen. Recently, I watched my cousins for two weeks while their parents were overseas on vacation. Does that count?”

Since no one else had answered the ad, yes, that counted. In his opinion, if she was flesh and blood and could change a diaper, she was qualified. “Yes, that sounds great. When can you come up and we’ll talk?”

“I have some time this morning. I’m helping my dad out at his office in the afternoons only now. At least until I get this job—if I get this job.”

“Why don’t you come up and we’ll discuss the particulars? Then you can meet Lyric.”

He detected a smile in her voice. “Lyric?”

“Yes, my daughter.” The words to the song he’d written floated through his mind.
Only one lyric important enough to sing for you…
Griffin gave her the address.

“I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

He ended the call and stared at the receiver in his hand, wondering about this woman who’d answered his ad. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a flash of movement. Lyric flapped her arms wildly and rolled onto her belly.

He jumped up and prostrated himself on the floor to stare into her bright blue eyes. “Lyric! You rolled over! You smart girl!”

She stiffened until her body rocked from side to side as if she were a jet ready for take-off. Laughing, he guided her arm up so she could roll without it hindering her, but she just kicked for a minute on her belly. When her face grew red, he rolled her onto her back and kissed her slobbery open mouth.

“Daddy’s smart baby. C’mon, doll. Let’s get you prettified so you can meet the woman who might be your nanny. Can’t have you smelling like that. Not a good impression.”

He took Lyric into the bedroom, where he changed her poopy diaper and fed her fat limbs into a fresh one-piece with pink bears on the toes.

By the time he was finished, he had just enough time to glide his fingers through his messy hair and throw a few dishes into the dishwasher. When the knock sounded on the door, he strode forward with Lyric on his shoulder to answer it.

He pulled open the wooden slab and bam. Nearly crumpled at the sight of the red-gold hair.

Fuck, it’s her.
How had she found him? After their almost-encounter that night, he’d thought nothing would come of it.

Wait. She’s here for the nanny job?

Nola met his gaze, and shock tumbled over her gorgeous features. “I…I must have the wrong house. I’m looking for Turner?”

“That’s me. Griffin Turner.” Grinning like an idiot, he stepped aside. “Come in.”

She did, legs moving woodenly. He shut her inside his house with him, knowing that jerk of wanting low in his core again.

“Umm…”

“I’m looking for a nanny.” He flipped Lyric around to face Nola, supporting her around her middle with his forearm. “This is Lyric.”

Nola stared at the baby, and he noted the softening around her mouth and eyes. “Ohh. She’s as pretty as her name.”

Okay, I’m in love.

“Come in and sit. We’ll talk over coffee. Unless you want…?”

She shook her head. “Coffee is perfect. And for the record, I don’t usually drink, you know.”

“But you…” he ducked his head, “…remember that night?”

Her face scorched. “Everything about it.”

He waved her toward his kitchen table. She sat and removed her coat while he bent and placed Lyric in her bouncy seat. Then he fed the old percolator on the stove with water and fragrant coffee grounds.

Nola laughed. “That’s quite domestic for a guy. Actually, all of this is.” She looked around at his homey kitchen and daughter.

He met her gaze, dying to cross the floor to her. He crossed his ankles instead, leaning against the counter. “Thank you. I’m a rancher, so good coffee is imperative. It’s calving season too, and I’m running full-tilt, supported only by high-test and pure will.”

Concern lit her eyes. “So may I ask where Lyric’s mom is?”

“Isn’t one. I’m raising Lyric alone. Well, with the help of my ma. But she’s sick. Breast cancer. It’s why I need help.”

Nola wrapped her fingers together. “I’m so sorry to hear that. So you need someone during the days?”

And in my bed at night.

“That’s right.” He bobbed his head, trying to fight his awareness of the curve of her breasts in her pale blue sweater or the enticing column of her throat. Too well he recalled her flavor.

“To care for Lyric and what else?”

“Feed her, bathe her, make bottles. Entertain Her Highness.” He smiled at his little girl. When he looked back at Nola, she was staring at him in a way that melted his insides.

“Also, some house duties. Baby laundry—I’ll do my own. Light cleaning. I don’t expect perfection—just a livable place to put my feet up when I come in from the field after an exhausting day.”

She nodded. “How old is Lyric again?” She got up and crouched before the baby seat. Lyric watched her with wide eyes. Then she gave a big burp and spit up. Nola froze, and Griffin’s alarms went off.

He moved forward. “You can just use the…um, drool bib. She’s four months.”

Nola glanced at him, a flush settling on her high cheekbones. She gripped the bib and wiped away the spit-up. “You’re a sweet baby, aren’t you? Even if you’re spitting at me.” Nola’s voice pitched higher, and Lyric flapped her arms. The pink teddy bear feet churned.

“She wants you to pick her up,” Griffin said, watching Nola closely. If this was going to work out, she had to be comfortable with Lyric.

“Oh. Okay.” Nola looked over her shoulder at him then fiddled with the buckles holding the baby in place. Once the baby was in the striking beauty’s arms, Griffin’s heart lurched.

God, yes. I’ll curl around you both.

No. Bad idea. She’s too young, and now she’s my employee.

The baby leaned into her, and Nola lowered her nose to Lyric’s head and drank in her scent.

His heart barreled ahead, a runaway horse no one could control. His throat tightened. She was perfect. Fucking perfect.

Nola half-turned to him. “The coffee’s ready.”

So am I.

“What do you think? You want the job? I need someone reliable. It might be for a long spell, at least until my ma gets back on her feet.”

The unspoken words hung between them. If she recovers.

Nola nodded, her nose still against Lyric’s fuzzy scalp, though a crease of worry lived between her red-gold brows. “Look, I’m sorry about that night. Between one too many drinks and my singing high, I wasn’t thinking straight. I promise I won’t let it impact me.
 
I’ll take the job. If you want me.”

That’s what terrifies me, sweetheart.

Fuck, a baby. It was the kiss of death to a single woman. Hunky cowboys with puppies Nola could harden her heart against, but this? She was screwed.

I can always back out of the position.

Who was she kidding? Excitement battered her insides at the thought of spending all day at Griffin’s house. The baby was adorable—and without a ma. It wouldn’t take too long to learn how to care for an infant, would it?

Nola bit her lower lip against a rising internal struggle. How easy would it be to slip into this life—to take care of a beautiful, rugged man and his daughter?

No, she was only taking the job to get out of the optometry office. If she didn’t, her father would never stop nagging her to take the position permanently. Once she did that, she’d be locked into Reedy forever, typing patient billing information while old ladies peered nearsightedly at her.

Guilt would tether her to her father’s office. But this nanny position paid a bit more and she could walk away with only a smidge of regret.

She drove straight to the boot shop to find Molly. Her sister hadn’t let up with her questioning about Griffin taking her home. Her romantic sister imagined true love and a happily-ever-after from one ride. Nola was thorns on her sister’s roses.

Besides, Griffin had shot down her advances. Actually turned down her offer for sex.

Hell. Could she really work with him?

Maybe she could. Their conversation had been easy today. He’d given her the tour of his house from one end to the other as well as some of the outbuildings. So if she ever needed him, she’d know where to find him.

The thought sent a stab of excitement to her belly.

Molly was on her knees in front of a cowboy with her “flirt” turned on high as she fitted his new leather boots. Smiling, Nola hung back and watched her sister in action. She practically threw herself at the man, who had to be at least twenty years her senior. Still, Molly didn’t care about age—she just wanted to find the man who would complete her soul.

“How do those feel? Don’t want anything pinched,” Molly said.

Nola shook her head at the insinuative words.

“They’re right fine, Ms. Molly. Thank you for your assistance,” he drawled, smiling at her.

Molly gained her feet, and Nola beckoned to her.

“What’s up, sis? You look as if you just won the lottery.”

Damn, she felt as if she’d left Griffin’s house with some sort of prize. She schooled her expression.

“No, I got the nanny position.”

“That’s great, but Daddy’s not going to take it well.”

“He’ll be fine. In fact, once he gets a qualified office assistant, he’ll realize what a screw-up I am in that environment.”

“Well, he’ll miss you buying him Chai teas and honey buns.”

Nola laughed. “That’s more like it. So, Molly…this guy with the nanny position? He’s a single dad.”

Molly’s eyes popped. “Yeah? And he’s gorgeous, isn’t he? Tell me he’s gorgeous.”

“It’s Griffin from The Hellion.”

Her sister dragged an exaggerated gasp through her lungs. “What?” she squealed. “Oh my God, Nola. It’s fate.”

Nola shook her head as soon as she saw that word perched on her sister’s lips. Since kindergarten, Nola had been telling her it wasn’t fate that she and Bobby sat together on the bus. In eighth grade, she’d promised Molly that she and Jordan were not slated for marriage. And on and on.

“No, his ma is sick with cancer, and he needs some help. That’s all.”

“And the kid? How old?”

Nola tried not to allow her insides to freeze at the thought of being left alone with Lyric. “Four months, a little girl named Lyric.”

“Jeezus!” Molly grasped Nola’s forearms and shook her. “You’re a country singer and he has a kid named Lyric? It’s fate, woman! Open your eyes.”

Yeah, Nola had mused about that too, but it was coincidence. No matter that if she had her own child, the name would have been a perfect fit.

“When do you start?”

She glanced at her gold watch. “Actually, I need to run. He sent me to the store for diapers and formula. When I get back, I’ll take over for a few hours while he tends cattle.”

“Lordy, I may faint.” Molly fanned herself. “He’s a cowboy.”

Ohhh, is he
. Pure male in low-slung jeans and a worn cowboy hat.

Nola ignored the burn between her legs. “Anyway, I won’t be home till late tonight. Tell Mom not to keep dinner. I’ll probably fix a sandwich at Griffin’s.”