“It’s okay,” Jamie assured him before turning to Emily. “What’s worrying you, sweetheart?”
Emily’s voice was small. “What happensaftersummer?”
Jamie didn’t have all the answers, but she could give them something.
“Well,” she said carefully, squeezing Clayton’s hand, “if everything works out, I’ll stay a little longer.”
Clayton nearly choked. “You will?”
Jamie nodded. “If that’s okay with y’all?”
He chuckled. “Did you just say ‘y’all’?”
Jamie rolled her eyes. “I mean, if it’sall right?”
Charlotte launched herself onto the couch and into Jamie’s arms. Emily followed a second later, wrapping her small arms around them both.
Clayton’s eyes softened as he nodded. “I’d say it’s more than all right.”
The girls took off on their bikes toward their grandparents’ house, giving Jamie time to unpack. She hauled her bags into Clayton’s bedroom, eyeing the TV mounted on the wall.
Clayton strolled in behind her. “About time I got me a TV.”
She dropped her bags onto the bed. “It’s too bad you don’t get a signal out here.”
“Check your phone.”
She shot him a look. “Why?”
“Just check it, for crying out loud.”
With a sigh she pulled her phone from her carry-on. She blinked. “Wait . . . why do I have service?”
He smirked, arms crossed. “Had the internet fella come by.”
Her jaw dropped. “Oh my God, Clayton! That means we can watch the Bachelor tonight!”
He let out a low chuckle. “Ain’t no way I’m sitting through one of them fool shows. But you go on ahead, now.”
They drove to the studio the next morning, talking aboutThe Bachelorthe whole way. Last night they’d stretched out in bed, watching it together. Clayton swore he wasn’t going to get sucked in—he even kept his hands busy, idly tying his ropes—but once it started he couldn’t look away.
He couldn’t believe women from all over the country had left their homes, their jobs, just for a chance to meet some stranger who wanted a wife.
Shorty was already waiting at the studio when they arrived, all smiles.
Shit. Shorty.
With all the talk aboutThe Bachelor, they hadn’t even discussed how to break the news to him. And he wasn’t going to be happy.
“The Osmonds’ song, finally,” Shorty said, tipping his hat. “Fans have been asking for it. We’re going to release it as soon as possible.”
“Got to record it first,” Clayton pointed out.
“That’s why you’re here,” Shorty said. “The band’s already laid down the tracks.”
“There’s something we need to tell you . . .” Jamie started.
“Oh, and I think I found you a short-term rental,” Shorty cut in. “Figured you wouldn’t want to stay at Clayton’s longer than necessary.”
