Somethin' Dirty: Country Fever, Book 4 (22 page)

She turned her smile onto Griffin. “Sorry, I’ve heard about you and your daughter.” She caught Lyric’s hand. When the baby directed the woman’s finger toward her mouth, the lady pulled it free with a laugh.

Griffin looked at her more closely. “What have you heard?”
How I’ve been a basket case since Nola left town?

He’d basically become a recluse, and for him, that was saying something. When he drove his ma to the doctor, he didn’t speak to anyone. No more standing on the corner by the drugstore, talking cattle prices with the guys. And he hadn’t spoken to Taylor in too long.

Griffin’s ma had tried to discuss the subject of Nola, but he’d shut her right down. He didn’t need to hear about how he should get out there again and find someone new to date.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t introduce myself. I’m Katherine.” The shopper extended her hand, and Griffin shook it.

“Griffin.”

“I know.”

That wasn’t good. Was he becoming the guy people in town gossiped about? Old Turner, sitting up there with his sick ma and a baby, pining over that Brady girl. Christ, he might be.

Hell, that’s exactly what he was.

Katherine had the grace to blush. “My sister is a nurse in the chemo clinic. She’s spoken of you coming in with your mother and daughter.”

“Ah, I see.” So Katherine hadn’t heard the gossip in church or the lady’s guild meeting. He breathed a sigh of relief.

She gestured to the baby food. “She’s just starting foods, right?”

“Yes, and she hates them all. Last week we tried a few, but she won’t keep any in her mouth.” And no wonder—it tasted awful. Would it be so difficult to mix in some butter and salt?

Katherine gave a short laugh and bent to talk to Lyric. “Are you being naughty and giving your daddy a hard time?”

Griffin’s stomach dropped out as if he’d just taken a wild turn on a bull. Memories of Nola bent over Lyric, cooing and talking to the baby as if she understood every word, rolled through his head.

He fought down a rising lump in his throat. Suddenly he wanted nothing more than to escape the grocery store and this woman. She was nice enough, yes, and pretty in her own right. And she was obviously interested in him, which set off alarm bells in his head.

He wanted to back away, hands up, and warn her off him. He didn’t do well with relationships and had managed to drive away the best woman who’d ever entered his life.

“I think we’ll just try these.” Griffin grabbed about ten miscellaneous jars and placed them in the cart. “Thanks for chatting, but we have to get back home.”

Katherine eyed him as if she was about to say something, but he hightailed it to the front of the store, far away from female attention. Every bone in his body craved a certain little country singer, and he couldn’t stick around and risk Katherine asking him out.

When he got home, his ma took one look at him and recognized his panic. She came forward to take Lyric from him, and he set the grocery bag on the table with a small clunk.

“Don’t you think it’s time to give up the stubborn cowboy ruse and just call her?”

“What?” He jammed a hand through his hair, pretending she shocked him with her question.

She settled Lyric on her hip and released the Velcro strap on the baby’s bonnet. “You’re surly, Griffin Edward Turner.”

He shot her a look. “Oh, I get all three names?”

“When you’re not listening to your inner voices, that’s the only way to get your attention. Remember when you were sixteen and determined to jump that cliff on your dirt bike?”

“Odds were twenty to one on me.” Half the school had been rallied around him, cheering him on. Only one other person in Reedy had completed the jump. Personally Griffin wasn’t afraid of the gap. Falling to his death in the rocky ravine was never a question in his mind, because the jump was more about having the guts to try it.

His mother went on. “I had to get your attention then, and I’ll damn well get it now.”

He looked at her hard. Her appearance was improving daily, and she was no longer acting like a shell-shocked victim of a dreaded disease. He secretly believed half of her battle had been mental—just like the cliff jump. Once she figured out she could survive her cancer, she made up her mind to go on living.

Suddenly yearning broke over him. For Nola. For his youth.

For that dirt bike.

How reckless he’d been as a teen. Even in his twenties, no one rivaled his lust for life. He threw himself into every venture without even checking the depth of the water. But somewhere along the lines he’d lost that fervor.

He’d like to call himself a cautious single father, but that wasn’t it. He hadn’t truly embraced life in far too long. Although he’d given Nola a few impulsive moments.

“Ma, can you keep Lyric?”

She blinked at him and shifted the baby to the other hip. “I guess so.” She narrowed her eyes. “What are you planning?”

He let his gaze linger on Lyric. In the eight months since her birth, he’d given up plenty, and gained more. He wasn’t willing to put her in a glass bubble either.

“Give her the baby food smorgasbord tonight, Ma. I’ll be back in a few hours.”

“Oookay.”

He walked into the mudroom and found a pair of leather gloves.
In case I have to climb out of a ravine.
His mother followed him, distress creasing her eyes. He leaned in and pecked her on the cheek. “Don’t worry. I’ll be back. Tell me which food Lyric likes better.”

Outside, he strode straight to the barn. He might not own a dirt bike anymore, but he had something just as good. Bart.

The horse wasn’t lazing, eyes half-closed in snoozing bliss. No, the stallion was waiting for Griffin as if he’d predicted this moment.

“Ready, boy?” Griffin grabbed a bridle and fitted it on the horse. Then he led Bart from the stall into the sun. Gripping the horse’s mane, he swung bareback onto the animal. “Hope you’re feeling energetic today. Yaw!”

He galloped across the fields, angling upward so the horse didn’t tire running straight uphill. Bart’s muscles coiled and released under him, and Griffin let his mind go. They carved a path through the high grasses. When the terrain turned rockier, he slowed Bart a little.

As the intermittent stones gave way to rock, Griffin gazed out over the landscape. This was one of the highest points in Needle’s Pass. He and Taylor had spent many an evening here with their girlfriends and a six-pack. Judging from the remains of a campfire, the peak still lured people.

He dismounted and walked a hundred yards to the ledge. The jagged rocks jutted from the earth, extending in a sort of false shelf and giving the illusion one could walk out on it and cross the gap to the other side. In total the jump was only about seven feet. If you stood on the ledge, you’d be closer. But the shelf wouldn’t hold his weight.

Besides, he was determined to jump it. His ma had put a stop to his glory all those years ago, but not now.

He walked back to Bart. Running a hand down the animal’s soft coat, he gathered his courage. A misstep would land him fifty feet down. If he went and got himself killed, what would happen to Lyric?

He could only think of one person he’d want to raise her, and that galvanized him into action.

I’m going to jump this goddamn ravine. Then I’ll go home and call Nola.

When he spurred Bart on, he allowed the horse its head. The best way to make the jump was mindlessly. He had to be one with the animal and not give a thought to stride length or timing.

They’d make it or wouldn’t.

Just as he and Nola would. But he was done fucking around.

Bart ground the rock under his hooves as he made the run. The horse dug in. Sprang. Griffin felt a smile spread over his face as the horse leaped.

All those years ago he’d thought about looking down as he jumped. But now that he was mid-flight, he didn’t give a damn what was at the bottom. He looked at the sky.

Nola poured every ounce of homesickness and love she felt for Griffin into that song. That damn song she wasn’t supposed to sing.

The one that got the record deal.

How was she going to tell Griffin she’d stolen his song and sold it to Nashville?

She flopped on her bed face down. The past two weeks had been a whirlwind of phone calls and texts with the agent. The record company had big plans for her, loved her look, her voice, what she stood for. Apparently her home-grown qualities appealed to the masses right now, and the company wanted to strike before the branding iron cooled.

For the thousandth time she contemplated her situation. This was why she’d come to Nashville, but now that she was neck-deep in recording sessions and contracts, terror seized her.

She’d sworn her family to secrecy about the news, in case something fell through. Sort of like having a miscarriage. If she never birthed this career, she didn’t want to explain it to the world.

And how the hell was she going to make the most important person understand? Griffin would never speak to her again.

Her cell rang, and she glared at it. Last week she’d made a certain song the ring tone for the agent’s office and had regretted it ever since.

Turned out the polished receptionist’s name was Jessica, and she was now Nola’s number one fan. And Jessica called dozens of times a day. Nola longed for peace and quiet. A rocking chair on a wide front porch and a cold beer in hand.

Griffin’s kisses.

Stifling a groan, she grabbed the cell.

“Hi, Nola, it’s Jessica.”

I know.

“There’s a party tonight at the house of one of the execs. Bryant would like you to be there.”

Nola glanced at the wall calendar where her work shift was indicated in red marker. “I have to work.”

“No, no, no, no. You’re big time now, girl! Bryant says to get your bikini on and he’ll pick you up at seven-thirty.”

“I don’t have a bikini.” Hell, she didn’t even have a swimsuit. When packing for Nashville, she hadn’t given a thought to swimwear.

“Then we’ll have to go shopping! Come at lunchtime. We’ll hit the shops.”

Jessica was tireless in her quest to give Nola the best chances. But everything felt wrong. Namely a single about to be released with her name on it, which she did not write.

“Okay, I’ll meet you for shopping. But I need to talk to you about that song. ‘One Lyric’ shouldn’t be released first. I’m thinking ‘Girl with a Gun’ should be the first single.” Nola gripped the phone, prepared for Jessica’s laughter.

Bryant had laughed at her too. “C’mon, Nola. The song is perfect. A ballad like that is a sure hit, and you need to leap into the waters with it. Let those sharks know who has the prettiest teeth. I know Bryant spoke with you about this issue. We don’t understand why you’re stalling—”

Because it’s not my song.

Jessica went on. “The song is perfect for a debut. Wait until you hear it after the recording studio mixes it. We’re always right about these things.”

If Griffin wasn’t totally lost to me before, he is now.
He would never come after her with a copyright lawsuit, only despise her privately.

Nola swiped her knuckles over her eyes. “All right. Whatever you say. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

She ended the call and buried her face in the covers. Dragging in a deep breath, she wished for a nose full of Griffin’s spicy scent. Leather and hardworking man. Her body reacted with instant arousal.

On the night she’d signed the deal to release his song, he’d called her. Guilt and self-disgust had kept her from answering her phone. If she could kick her own ass with those adorable blue boots, she would. He deserved to know.

And she needed to know why he was calling. Instead of speaking with him, she’d phoned Molly and probed for information, but her sister knew nothing of Lyric, Alice or the man who held Nola’s heart.

Biting down on her lip, she stared at the ceiling. She could call him now. But what to say?

Hey, Griffin. Sorry I ran off. I’d hoped you would ask me to marry you for what—the third or fourth time? Then I missed you so much that your song just came out of me. And guess what? Now I’m going to make thousands of dollars on those lyrics you taught me while your cock was buried deep inside me. Oh yeah, and I’m not giving you credit for it.

She yanked herself off the bed and headed to the shower. Chances were she didn’t have enough cash in her account for any bikini Jessica would choose. Her taste was Angus steak on Nola’s hamburger budget. That meant charging a bikini to her emergency credit card. Until her first advance came through for the record deal, she still pinched pennies.

Plus she had to call off work tonight—again—which would probably get her fired.

She prayed some money came through fast. On the other hand, she dreaded the release of that song.

Hours later she and Jessica were browsing the racks of a posh store. “This one?” Jessica held up a white string bikini.

“No.” Nola scrunched her nose.

“That’s the fifth one you’ve turned down. You’d look amazing in it. What’s the problem?”