Somethin' Dirty: Country Fever, Book 4 by Em Petrova

own bed, he felt as wrung out as she looked.
    When he pulled the covers over her, she placed a thin hand on his. “You’re a good man.”
    Those tears he’d been wrangling back welled against his lashes. He smiled into her loving brown eyes. “We’ll get through this. I don’t like you here on your own though. Will you move into my guest room?”
    Her eyelids drooped. “I’ll think about it. Call me in a few hours, okay? I don’t want to sleep the day away.”
    He almost asked why. She could spend a day resting if she damn well pleased, but that just wasn’t his ma. He bent and kissed her cheek. “I will.”
    She snuggled under the covers, and he watched her drift off almost instantly. After he hand-washed a few dishes and ran a duster around the rooms, he cracked the blinds to let in some sunlight. Feeling better about leaving her, his mind zeroed in on Lyric—and Nola.
    The drive up the steep hill to Needle’s Pass had never seemed so long. His heart sped up as he set eyes on his ranch. From the outside, it appeared to be slumbering, but inside it would pulse with life.
    Because his daughter was in there with a woman he could fall in love with.
    He practically ran to the front door, prepared to be greeted by smiles.
    Instead, all hell was breaking loose.
     
    Nola’s T-shirt clung to the perspiration under her arms as she paced the floor with the screaming baby. She’d tried everything—jiggling, singing, feeding, burping. Nothing stopped the train-whistle shrieks Lyric emitted.
    Two hours into it, Nola had called her mother in tears, her hands shaking from her frazzled nerves. Her mother had calmly suggested bundling the baby. If she had colic, the tight wrap might help.
    Lyric had kicked and wiggled free in seconds. Nola had wrestled the pink fuzzy blanket around her again, at which point Lyric’s face turned nearly purple with rage.
    Terrified, Nola had hastily unwrapped the baby and started walking again. She’d checked her diaper a dozen times. Tried to direct a nipple between the baby’s lips.
    She stared at the wall clock. In another hour she’d give in and call Griffin, but she didn’t want to bother him while he was taking care of his mother.
    And she didn’t want to seem incompetent.
    She did another revolution of the living room with the screeching baby on her shoulder. Every step she laid down felt weighted, and her nerves jangled like spurs on a boot-scootin’ cowboy.
    “Shhh, Lyric. Shhh.”
    The stiff baby churned her legs. Nola’s hair dripped into one eye and she smelled like spit-up. Lyric’s scream rose and fell beside Nola’s ear, ripping at the last thread of her control. She crossed the room and picked up the phone and put it to her ear.
    “Nola.”
    It took a heartbeat to realize Griffin’s voice wasn’t projecting through the receiver.
    She whirled. Relief swelled in her chest, and tears sprang to her eyes.
    “Oh, sweetheart.”
    She didn’t know if he was talking to her or the baby, but she didn’t care. He was here, and she could unload this screaming child.
    Griffin removed Lyric from her arms and hitched her high on his shoulder. She continued to shriek, and he didn’t even bat an eye. That must mean he’d dealt with this before and Nola hadn’t broken the baby after all.
    When he slipped an arm around Nola’s waist and tugged her against his chest, she dissolved into noisy tears.
    “How long has she been like this?” His soothing tone made Nola cry harder.
    “Since y-you left.” She dragged a disgusting breath into her nose and tried to pull herself together.
    “Why didn’t you call me?” His voice held no trace of judgment—only calm understanding.
    “I thought I could handle it.”
    He gave her a little squeeze and Lyric went through a bout of hiccupping cries. He jiggled her. “Sweetheart, believe me, it takes nerves of steel to deal with Lyric’s colic. You should’ve called.”
    She tipped her face up to him, and he smiled. She shoved the hair