Somethin' Dirty: Country Fever, Book 4 (7 page)

He shoved the thought away.

Glancing up, she caught his gaze. It held. And held for another long beat of his heart. God, he was so tired of fighting this attraction. Maybe he should let her go and hire some older woman he didn’t want to bend over the counter, washer and sofa.

Nola threw him a wave and a tight-lipped smile and went into the laundry room.

The pull was too much. Griffin followed.

Crowding her into the space suddenly felt all right.

She spun to face him, eyes wide, lips parted. “What are you doing?”

Griffin grinned down at her and shook his hair out of his eyes. He hitched his thumb in his front pocket and continued to look at her.

“I’ve got everything under control.” She pressed a palm over her heart.

He pulled away from the wall. One step closer and he invaded her space. Two, and she was pressed against the washer. He braced a hand on the wall cabinet over the appliances and leaned close.

The notes of her perfume sent him reeling. She folded her hands into fists.

His gaze locked on her. For a mind-spinning moment, he fought an inner war.

She ducked under his arm and shot toward the door.

Griffin’s heart caved in, and he hung his head for a moment. What the hell was he doing?

Chapter Four

Griffin scuffed a hand over his face to wipe away the sight of Nola’s ass swaying away from him. He felt like a grade-A asshole. She’d been under his employ for under a week, and he was cornering her over a pile of spit-up laundry.

But to be fair, she had looked up at him with those long-lashed blue eyes filled with the same longing he’d seen in The Hellion.

With a shudder he adjusted his dick and followed her to the kitchen. She stood at the sink, rinsing a bottle. The view from the back made him want to bend her over the table. But when she turned, he caught the despair etched on her face.

“Look, I’m sorry about that. I shouldn’t have done it. Won’t happen again.”

She slashed the air with a hand to cut him off. “If you’re finished for the day, I’ll just be going.”

He chewed his lower lip a moment then released it. As far as he knew there weren’t any cows in labor, and his ma was home resting. Lyric was down for her late nap, and Griffin probably had an hour of peace ahead of him.

Trouble was, he couldn’t think of anything better to fill his time with than kissing Nola.

His cock stirred, and he took a hasty step toward her.

She threw up her hands to ward him off even as she swayed his direction. “I can’t get involved with you. I’m going to leave Reedy as soon as I have enough money.”

He stared at her. From every angle, wearing countless expressions, she looked as if she’d stepped off the pages of a magazine.

“I’m a singer. I mean, you knew that.” She swiped a hand through her strawberry-gold waves. “But my goal is to get to Nashville. Try for something bigger.”

A hole blossomed in his gut. He was so right to keep her at arms’ length. She needed to get out of Reedy. With beauty and talent like hers she was sure to rise to the top. Some people had it, and she oozed that special something from every delicious pore.

“You have an amazing voice. The world deserves to hear it.”

She had goals, just like Miranda. He needed to forget about her being anything but Lyric’s caretaker for a few short months. Except she was staring at him that way again—as if she was hungry and only he could hold out the ripe strawberry for her to nibble.

Jeezus. The thought of her lips clamping around something else made his cock bulge to full length. He bit off a groan.

Nola let her gaze wander downward, taking in his arousal. Her blatant perusal turned him on like nothing else. He clenched his hands into fists to keep from grabbing her, throwing her over his shoulder and stomping to his bedroom.

Her gaze traveled up his body, scorching a path that ended on his face. He returned her stare, unapologetic for his state.

Something slipped in her gaze—permission. Welcome.

He took two strides and caught her in his arms. “Griffin,” she squeaked a moment before he crushed his mouth to hers.

Lust tingled down his spine as he plunged his tongue between her sweet lips. She melted in his embrace, molding her soft breasts to his chest. He gripped her ass and dragged her against his erection.

Each velvety pass of her tongue tore at his control. He cupped the back of her head and dived deeper. Hell, he never wanted to surface.

She was just as wild. Her short nails dug into his back, and she opened wide to his questing tongue. She tasted spicy like cinnamon or freshly chewed grass.

Tearing away, he pressed gentler kisses to the corner of her lips, her delicate jaw, around her throat to her ear. Her breath came in pants. When he palmed her breast, she gave a quiet cry.

That’s it
. He lifted her off her feet. She wrapped her thighs around his waist and found his lips again as he set her on the counter. She wore denim shorts, a tank top and a denim vest he couldn’t wait to peel off.

Dark pressure tightened his groin, and his hips moved on their own. He ground his cock into the V of her legs. The scent of her arousal hit him, and he growled.

He glided a hand under her shirt, over the taut belly he longed to lick, and up to her rounded breast. When the weight filled his hand, he stole a peek at her face.

Want was a song scrawled over her beautiful features.
And I’m going to make you sing it. Over and over again.

He discarded the vest, lifted her top and pulled her bra fabric until the creamy mound of flesh popped free.

Hell, her nipple was dark and beaded.

With a rumble of need, he trapped it between his lips. Rolling and swirling it until she writhed. She tugged his hair, raising goose bumps all over him. When had that ever happened?

He sucked her bud into his mouth and laved it with his tongue, wanting more, more, more.

“Griffin…”

“Baby, I wanted to do this that night after you bewitched me with your voice. And for the past four days. I can’t keep my hands off you anymore.”

She stopped breathing. Every line of her body tensed, and he lifted his head to see her features frozen—far from the moment.

Dammit, he was an idiot times ten. He couldn’t toy with her. She wasn’t too young to know that what her body wanted and what her mind wanted were two separate things. And he wasn’t being fair to himself either.

He released her and stumbled two steps back. Confusion warred on her features. At that moment, Lyric’s despondent cry drifted from the living room.

Nola shook her head as if to regain her senses, arranged her clothing and jumped off the counter. A painful ache spread from Griffin’s cock upward to clamp around his heart. Nola wasn’t for him, no matter how much he wanted her to be.

“I’ll see to Lyric. You can go for the day, but I want to talk to you about coming earlier,” he told her.

“When should I be here tomorrow?”

His ma usually came around six-thirty, but he could push back his chores. “Seven. I’ll see you at seven. And I’m sorry about what just happened. It won’t happen again.”

Their gazes connected for a heartbeat, but he dropped his first to stare at her little pink toes.

“See you.” She moved off toward the mudroom, and Griffin issued a pent-up breath. Lyric needed him, his ma needed him. But what if he needed someone?

“What’s for dinner?” Nola leaned against the counter, close to where her mother stood dicing tomatoes, onions and jalapenos.

“Spicy salsa chicken.”

Nola swept her gaze over the counter at the other ingredients. Then she went to the fridge for cheese. Wordlessly, she and her mom worked to place the four cutlets in a dish then topped it with salsa and cheese.

Their silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but she knew her mom was disappointed that Nola hadn’t kept her job at the optometry office.

Finally, her mother spoke. “How was your day with the baby?”

Today Nola had arrived five minutes late to Griffin’s, and he’d already fed and dressed Lyric. She’d looked adorable in a ruffled romper, and Griffin had combed her sparse hair into a tiny curl on top of her head.

From afar, Nola loved the idea of taking care of an infant, but when he passed the kicking bundle into her arms, worry tugged at her. In the end, Lyric had been a peach of a baby, only throwing a fit when Nola hadn’t realized she needed to change a diaper until wetness seeped through onto her jeans.

And Griffin…he’d looked heartbreaking in rugged denim, boots and a flannel shirt, which he stripped off by the time he came in from his chores. Nola had drifted to the kitchen with Lyric in her arms to watch him gulp down two consecutive glasses of water.

“Want me to make you something to eat?”

He’d given her a sideways smile that jerked her off balance. “Not in our deal, is it? You take care of Lyric. I’ll handle myself, thanks.”

She’d nodded, fighting disappointment. After that, she’d chided herself for a solid hour. Where had the urge to care for a man come from anyway? It might be Molly’s dream but hers lay with a record deal.

Nola refocused on her task and her mother. “My day went pretty well.”

“No screaming baby? That’s good to hear,” her mother said from the depths of a cupboard, where she was bent over to drag out the blender. When they had spicy salsa chicken, they always had virgin margaritas. After spending the day reliving Griffin’s lips on her nipple, Nola could use a shot of tequila in hers.

Heat sliced through her.

Molly’s boot steps preceded her into the kitchen. Her sister appeared, all cowgirl smile and wide eyes, but Nola wasn’t falling for the deception. Under her sister’s innocent appearance was a hardcore interrogator.

She wasn’t disappointed.

“How’s the hunky cowboy daddy?” she drawled.

Nola leaned her elbows on the counter and propped up her chin.
Marvelously sculpted and dotted with dirt and sweat after his chores
. She’d yearned to lead him into the shower and soap him from head to toe.

“The cowboy daddy is holding it together.”

Molly inched nearer, and her mother straightened. “What do you mean?” her mom asked.

“Well, he’s a great dad. He had Lyric dressed and fed by the time I arrived. Then he took care of the ranch before taking his mother to a doctor’s appointment. She has cancer.”

Her mom’s eyebrows rose. “Poor woman.”

“Poor Cowboy Daddy,” Molly interjected. “That’s a lot of weight for a man to carry.”

“For anyone to carry.” Their mother adjusted Molly’s romantic notions.

“No wonder he needed you,” Molly said.

“Yeah, I wish I could do more. Right now Lyric takes some entertaining, but she sleeps a good portion of the day too. Griffin keeps the house tidy, so I feel as if I’m wandering around when I could be helping him.”

“In the barn?” Molly waggled her brows.

Nola rolled her eyes and went to retrieve ice to feed to the blender. “I can’t help but wonder what happened to the mother. I mean, what sort of woman gives up her baby?”

“Maybe it was a tragic accident and Griffin’s just waiting for the right woman—” Molly stopped at their mother’s pointed look.

Nola ignored her sister and shook her head. “There’s a story in his past, that’s for sure. And it’s hard not to admire a man willing to take on the responsibility of raising a child on his own.”

Both women nodded in agreement. While they mixed the margaritas they dropped the discussion. Nola and Molly set the table, and then their mother ran off to greet their daddy.

At dinner, Nola stole a peek at her father. He didn’t appear angry—just a little tired.

“How was the new girl?” Nola asked around a bite of chicken laden with sour cream, salsa and cheese.

“She’s catching on. And how is the nanny job?”

Nola smiled as the image of Lyric popped into her head. While Nola had fed her, Lyric’s eyes seemed to grow with every suck, until they took up her entire face. “It’s fine. Good pay for an easy job. The baby’s a dream.”

“Got you wrapped around her finger already?” Her father smiled for the first time since Nola quit, and she relaxed a little.

“Around her daddy’s finger, I’d say. You should see the way he has her outfitted. The nursery looks like a bubble gum factory exploded, and the kid has a wardrobe to be envious of.” Nola forked in two more mouthfuls of chicken before she realized everyone was staring at her and not eating.

“What?”

“Uh-oh,” Molly said with a grin. “Sounds as if this job might be more than a means of getting to Nashville.
 
That can mean only one thing.”

Nola felt a flush creep over her throat and face. She set down her fork. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Did you scour the Internet for the latest in country music news today, Nola?” Molly asked.

“Well no. I didn’t have time. I was working.”