Read Online Somethin' Dirty: Country Fever, Book 4 by Em Petrova - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Em Petrova
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the chain to the gear. When he cranked the handle, the chain would tighten. Now he just needed to reach inside the cow and find the calf’s leg.
First he ran his hands over the calf’s outline to detect the way it was laying. He’d done this often enough to know its front legs were bunched up and hindering its birth.
“Damn.” He yanked off his flannel shirt and moved to the back end of the cow. “You’re not gonna like me for this, but in the end, it’s what you need.”
The disgusting work of rooting around inside a cow’s womb and searching for a foreleg took up the next few minutes. When he heard Nola’s tires crunching on gravel, he swore. If he extricated himself from his project now, he might have a harder time later.
“Nola!” he called once he heard the car door close.
When she didn’t respond, he called again. A moment later her footsteps sounded at the door of the barn.
“In here,” he grunted as the cow’s body clamped around his arm, constricting it.
“What the…?” Her boots appeared, and he squinted at her from the corner of his eye. “Yuck!”
“That’s an understatement. Listen, Lyric is sleeping. The house is open. Just go on in and make yourself comfortable on the couch. There’s a baby monitor in the living room already tuned to the Lyric Channel.”
She smiled at that. Hell, she was still mussed from sleep, her hair loose and curling over her forehead, and her baggy sweatpants only added to her allure. “Okay, you just…do what you’re doing here. I’ll take care of Lyric.”
He offered her a smile as he encircled the calf’s leg with his fingers and tugged it downward. “Get some sleep, Nola.”
She stared at where his arm disappeared into the big animal’s body, disgust etched on her pretty face. “I’ll try.” She turned and left the barn. He listened to her crossing the lawn and the front door quietly opening and closing.
Breathing a sigh, he looked at the cow. “You and me now, babe. Let’s do this thing.” With a hard wrench, he guided the calf’s leg forward. The cow groaned. Griffin worked for long minutes to attach the chain to the leg.
His muscles strained. From the baby monitor, he heard a snuffling noise and was instantly on high alert. He pushed away the night sounds—peep frogs and scurrying mice. Then he heard Nola’s soft, soothing croon.
“Shh, baby, it’s okay.”
He pictured her patting Lyric’s spine, calming her back to sleep. She’d probably been the one to disturb Lyric by checking on her.
Griffin smiled and secured the chain. With a grunt, he hunkered back against the side of the stall and used his flannel to wipe his hand. “We’re gonna get your baby free then celebrate with a nice scoop of grain,” he told the heifer.
But half an hour of cranking later, the calf was no closer to being born. Muscles burning and frustration mounting, he prodded the cow’s belly, hoping to guide the baby. What he wouldn’t give for a glass of sweet tea and his bed.
He fell back, out of breath from his efforts. A sweeping glance at the cow’s body told him she wasn’t faring well either. He worked harder. Sweat dripped into his eyes, and he blinked it away.
At that moment, Lyric’s cry rang out from the monitor. He froze and shot a glance at his watch. Hell, he’d been working for two hours and it had felt like minutes. Lyric’s wails echoed through the barn. A second later he heard Nola.
“What’s wrong, little miss? Hungry?”
His pulse tripped at the sweet words. The baby’s cries fell away as Nola obviously carried her through the house to the kitchen. A few minutes of his backbreaking attempts later, Nola’s voice came through the monitor again.
She was singing.
Griffin’s throat thickened. He battled the need to go to her—to put his arms around her and his child and shelter that moment. Instead he was going to have to call the vet, crop up more bills and remain in the barn until dawn seeped into the
First he ran his hands over the calf’s outline to detect the way it was laying. He’d done this often enough to know its front legs were bunched up and hindering its birth.
“Damn.” He yanked off his flannel shirt and moved to the back end of the cow. “You’re not gonna like me for this, but in the end, it’s what you need.”
The disgusting work of rooting around inside a cow’s womb and searching for a foreleg took up the next few minutes. When he heard Nola’s tires crunching on gravel, he swore. If he extricated himself from his project now, he might have a harder time later.
“Nola!” he called once he heard the car door close.
When she didn’t respond, he called again. A moment later her footsteps sounded at the door of the barn.
“In here,” he grunted as the cow’s body clamped around his arm, constricting it.
“What the…?” Her boots appeared, and he squinted at her from the corner of his eye. “Yuck!”
“That’s an understatement. Listen, Lyric is sleeping. The house is open. Just go on in and make yourself comfortable on the couch. There’s a baby monitor in the living room already tuned to the Lyric Channel.”
She smiled at that. Hell, she was still mussed from sleep, her hair loose and curling over her forehead, and her baggy sweatpants only added to her allure. “Okay, you just…do what you’re doing here. I’ll take care of Lyric.”
He offered her a smile as he encircled the calf’s leg with his fingers and tugged it downward. “Get some sleep, Nola.”
She stared at where his arm disappeared into the big animal’s body, disgust etched on her pretty face. “I’ll try.” She turned and left the barn. He listened to her crossing the lawn and the front door quietly opening and closing.
Breathing a sigh, he looked at the cow. “You and me now, babe. Let’s do this thing.” With a hard wrench, he guided the calf’s leg forward. The cow groaned. Griffin worked for long minutes to attach the chain to the leg.
His muscles strained. From the baby monitor, he heard a snuffling noise and was instantly on high alert. He pushed away the night sounds—peep frogs and scurrying mice. Then he heard Nola’s soft, soothing croon.
“Shh, baby, it’s okay.”
He pictured her patting Lyric’s spine, calming her back to sleep. She’d probably been the one to disturb Lyric by checking on her.
Griffin smiled and secured the chain. With a grunt, he hunkered back against the side of the stall and used his flannel to wipe his hand. “We’re gonna get your baby free then celebrate with a nice scoop of grain,” he told the heifer.
But half an hour of cranking later, the calf was no closer to being born. Muscles burning and frustration mounting, he prodded the cow’s belly, hoping to guide the baby. What he wouldn’t give for a glass of sweet tea and his bed.
He fell back, out of breath from his efforts. A sweeping glance at the cow’s body told him she wasn’t faring well either. He worked harder. Sweat dripped into his eyes, and he blinked it away.
At that moment, Lyric’s cry rang out from the monitor. He froze and shot a glance at his watch. Hell, he’d been working for two hours and it had felt like minutes. Lyric’s wails echoed through the barn. A second later he heard Nola.
“What’s wrong, little miss? Hungry?”
His pulse tripped at the sweet words. The baby’s cries fell away as Nola obviously carried her through the house to the kitchen. A few minutes of his backbreaking attempts later, Nola’s voice came through the monitor again.
She was singing.
Griffin’s throat thickened. He battled the need to go to her—to put his arms around her and his child and shelter that moment. Instead he was going to have to call the vet, crop up more bills and remain in the barn until dawn seeped into the
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