Somethin' Dirty: Country Fever, Book 4 (6 page)

“You’ve gotta make chicken marsala for him. It’s your best dish.”

“It’s not a date. I’m taking care of his kid. Okay, you’ve got a customer. Try not to drape yourself all over him.” Nola scooted out the door and back to her car.

She spent an hour trying to find the items on his list. By the time she paid for the baby supplies, she was rethinking her decision to take the nanny position. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if she stayed at the optometry office.

Except now that she knew Griffin was in a jam, something deep inside her wanted to reach out and help. All the way back to Needle’s Pass, she warred with herself. If she planned to walk away, sooner worked better than later.

It was a bad idea to be around a man she could so easily lose control with.
I’m not the right person for this position.

When she entered, he was on the phone, the receiver tucked between ear and shoulder and a pissed-off Lyric over his opposite shoulder. Nola’s decision to leave him in the lurch vanished. Hurriedly she set the bags down and took the baby.

The bundle squirmed, and Nola panicked. What the hell was she supposed to do with her? She bounced her for a moment, trying to discern what she needed. Fed? Burped?

“Let’s start with the basics.” She clutched her awkwardly to her chest and peeked between the snaps on the baby’s legs. A soggy diaper. With what she hoped was a smile at Griffin, she whisked Lyric down the hall to the changing table.

His voice rose and fell, a low tenor that did things to her insides. She tried to block his voice by talking to Lyric, but he kept invading her senses. A moment later, Lyric was still fussy but clean. Nola’s hair tumbled into one eye, and her shirt clung to her damp skin after wrestling two fat legs into a sleeper.

She lifted Lyric and looked up to see Griffin in the doorway, staring at her.

“She’s hungry. She’s on a four-hour schedule. A minute more than that, and she’ll let ya hear it.” He grinned lopsidedly, the bracket cutting a path in his cheek. Nola shivered. Too well she recalled the feel of his beard scraping her sensitive skin. And that soul patch…

“Right. I’ll handle it if you have work to do.”

He gave a short nod. “I do.” Still he didn’t leave.

Awareness prickled all over her body. Shit, this wasn’t what she’d signed up for. She crossed the room, and he stepped aside so she could pass. In the kitchen, she floundered around the space until she found bottle, warmer and burp cloth. He watched her without lifting a hand to find the things for her, which was good because she needed to learn where everything was on her own.

And she didn’t want to appear incompetent.

When she sank to the sofa with the baby in her arms, he said, “Looks as if you have everything under control. I’ll be outside. Holler if you need me.”

A sliver of want did a backstroke down her spine. Without looking up from her task of feeding Lyric, she nodded. “Thanks.”

Focusing on the baby, she let her mind wander. What had happened to Lyric’s mother? Under what circumstances had Griffin gotten custody of his daughter? And had he loved her mother?

She searched the baby’s tiny features for traces of the parents. The fuzz on her head was coming in dark, pointing to her paternal heritage. But perhaps her mother had been dark-haired too.

The child’s snub nose and chubby cheeks gave no hint of what she’d look like as an adult. Nola cast a glance around the living room. A field stone fireplace stood cold with ashes, and a thick wooden beam mantel was devoid of photographs. The only picture in the room was a big canvas photo of Lyric as a newborn.

Nola’s heart echoed with the emptiness Griffin must feel in his life. No wonder he’d looked at her like that from the doorway. Having a woman in his house, caring for his daughter, probably gave him the feeling of a family.

But not with her. Nope, she was just an employee, stockpiling cash so she could break for Nashville. There, she’d hit all of the local haunts and try to meet with some music executives.

Sated, Lyric drifted into a deep sleep. Nola dreaded even standing up, afraid she’d wake up. Finally, she awkwardly shifted the baby and laid her in the bassinet against the living room wall and covered her with a soft, crocheted blanket. She grinned down at her for a moment. Everything on her was pink, from her sleeper to the pink hearts on her diaper. The blanket and bassinet were both pink, and her bedroom was a pink explosion.

Funny, because a single dad might have chosen more masculine accoutrements for his daughter. One thing was certain—Griffin had a story, and whether Nola liked it or not, curiosity burned in her gut.

She puttered around the living room, cleaning up. Now this she knew how to do.

Then she figured out the washing machine and set it to wash a load of baby clothes. When she turned to leave the small laundry area, a wall of muscle blocked her.

Sucking in a deep breath of surprise was a bad idea. Griffin’s musky male spice filled her head.

“Find everything okay?” His voice dipped low, then he cleared his throat. “Need any help?”

She clasped her hands together. “Nope. Got it under control.”

He shifted to the side and let her pass. As she moved to the kitchen to continue her chores, her skin prickled. Was he staring at her ass?

Warmth settled low in her belly. As fast as the heat pooled, she doused it. The last thing she needed was to feed into her attraction for him. He was dangerous enough with his rugged good looks.

He followed her into the kitchen. While he leaned against the counter, sipping a glass of sweet tea, she opened and closed cupboards to find homes for the clean dishes. Holding a casserole dish, she raised a brow at him.

His heavy stare rooted her to the floor. “Cupboard beside the sink.”

“Thanks.”

Was he going to hang over her, watching her every move?

Annoyance filtered into her system, followed by the realization that she wanted him to want to be around her.

Oh no. Time to put on the brakes.

She spun from the dishwasher but couldn’t quite meet his gaze. “Well, that’s it for now. Do you need anything before I go?”

“No, everything seems to be in order.” He reached out then pulled his hand back and ran it through his hair.

Nodding, she said, “Good. I’ll see you tomorrow morning then.”

When she moved toward the mudroom, he sidestepped right into her path. Before she gave in to her burning want, she extended her hand to shake his. Professional distance was a must. Sleeping with one’s boss was never a good idea. Less so when she didn’t want any ropes to bind her to Reedy.

He took her hand, and she curled her toes into the floor at the feel of his work-roughened palm. “Thanks, Nola.”

Heart throbbing, she rushed out of the house and shut herself inside her car. As she made her way back down the mountain, she breathed easier. The tension between her and Griffin had to all be in her head. Tomorrow would be easier.

But she had a feeling that keeping a professional distance from the rugged cowboy was going to be like keeping a stallion away from a mare in heat.

Griffin bounced a fussy Lyric on his shoulder and tossed another look out the kitchen window at the driveway. Nola was due any minute, and his internal clock knew it.

Where that woman was concerned, he was far too aware. For the twelfth time since taking her on as nanny, he reminded himself that besides now being on his payroll, Nola was too young. Still, his overactive libido didn’t apply an age to desire.

Lyric squawked.

“I know she’s late.” He glanced at the clock on the range. They hadn’t really discussed a time for her to arrive, but he’d assumed she knew ranchers got up early.

He resisted the urge to put Lyric in her bouncy seat and clean up the few breakfast dishes. But if he ignored the mess, he’d have something to talk to Nola about. If he didn’t think of a to-do list, he feared what may spurt from his mouth.

Armed with a mental list, he took the baby outside and stared down the driveway. The overcast sky made him eager to get to work before it rained. Where was she?

He let Lyric capture a hank of his hair. After twenty minutes, irritation rolled off him. Nola was living up to his perception of young women.

With his resolve firmly in place again, he went back inside. Seconds later the drone of an engine made his heart leap.

Dammit, stop that.
He peeked out the window and watched Nola’s bare legs emerge from the car.

His cock jerked. Disgusted with his lack of control, he swung from the window and met her at the mudroom door. When she saw his expression, the smile fell from her face.

“Oh no. I’m late, aren’t I?”

The uncertain way she nibbled her lip sent Griffin into an instant state of arousal. But a single look at her fresh, young face helped him clamp off his desires. Wanting this woman was wrong in 500 ways, starting with her age and ending with the fact she was his employee.

“Some dishes in the sink to do. Laundry to fold. And can you change the crib sheets?” He thrust Lyric at her. Awkwardly, she accepted the baby and held her a little apart from her body. “She’s been fed and changed. I’ll be in the barn.”

With that, he stomped outside. Gulping air, he strode faster to put more distance between him and that alluring woman.

But an hour of back-breaking barn work didn’t ease the grip she had on him.

Forty more minutes of feeding and watering animals only gave him time to go over ten reasons why she was irresistible.

Twenty more minutes of horseback riding to the top field to check the herd afforded him a better view of his personal goals. No matter how lonely and horny he was, he did not want another Miranda in his life.

His relationship with Nola was strictly professional. He wrote her checks and she cared for his daughter. Simple.

But when he returned to the house for lunch, only to find a covered plate with a sandwich and a few pickles on it, his heart rocked.

He eyed her. “What’s this?” He lifted the corner of the plastic wrap covering the plate.

She fidgeted, a faint flush coating her beautiful features. “I figured I was making myself a sandwich anyway and might as well make two.”

A kernel of warmth took root in his chest. He pulled off the plastic and lifted the top slice of bread to see a random selection of deli meat and cheese. She didn’t know his tastes, but it was the most delicious sandwich he’d ever seen.

And she was the most appealing woman. Replacing the bread, he met her gaze and smiled. The corners of her mouth twisted up to match his. For an excruciating heartbeat, he battled the need to take her in his arms.

She looked so unsure.

She was fucking perfect.

Dropping her gaze, she said, “I hope the sandwich is okay.”

“I can’t wait to dig in.” He studied her clenched fingers. Was it possible she struggled with the memory of their urgent kisses too?

Nola shot him a weak smile. “Lyric’s down for a nap.”

“She’s right on schedule. She’ll wake up ravenous.”

“Is there anything you need me to do this afternoon?”

Yes. Give me a chance.

No. Keep sending out those warning vibes. I obviously have some kind of control problem.

He swept his gaze over the tidy kitchen. It even looked as if she’d mopped. “I can’t think of anything. Unless it’s folding laundry. Baby laundry is a tedious bitch to fold.”

She laughed, a full, sweet sound that reminded him how well she sang. His body reacted with a primal violence. Gut plummeting, cock lengthening, heart squeezing.

To cover the moment, he bit off a huge bite of his sandwich. As he chewed, Nola tilted her head and watched him with an absorption he wanted to cling to.

She’s probably never seen a man make a pig of himself in her presence.

When he finally swallowed, her gaze drifted up to his. The natural roses in her cheeks deepened in color. “I’ll just…check on Lyric.”

He gave a short nod. “Sounds good. I’ll finish up and get back to work.”

As she pivoted, he dug his fingers into his palms to keep from grabbing her back. The luscious view of her ass shook his firm resolve. Lifting the sandwich again, he tried to recall the reasons Nola was all wrong for him.

And then she glanced over her shoulder at him, a wistful expression in her eyes.

Hell, I’m lost.

On day four of her being late, Griffin vowed to give her a firm start time. But part of him hoped her erratic schedule would keep him from jumping her. Every minute he waited for her reminded him that she was too young/immature/probably self-centered/off limits.

When he came inside for lunch, no sandwich awaited him. He opened the refrigerator and rifled through a few plastic containers of leftovers. Finding the chicken stir-fry he’d made two nights ago, he popped the lid off and stuck the dish in the microwave.

Nola breezed into the kitchen, her hair in wild disarray.
She looks as if she’s been well-loved.