Jamie Keaton adjusted the delicate strap of her emerald gown, her fingers smoothing over the fabric as if that would calm the nervous energy buzzing in her veins. The air inside the arena crackled with anticipation with the biggest names in the industry gathered under the dazzling stage lights.
But none of it mattered as much as the people sitting behind her.
Charlotte and Emily were practically vibrating in their seats, their whispered excitement reaching Jamie’s ears even over the hum of the crowd. Ruth and Nolan flanked them, reining in the girls’ energy just enough to keep them from bouncing into the aisle.
Clayton, seated beside her, seemed the picture of ease, one arm draped over the back of her chair. But Jamie knew better. She could see the way his fingers tapped idly against his thigh, the telltale sign of his anticipation.
Then the moment arrived: “The nominees for Best Country Duo/Group Performance are . . .”
Jamie felt Clayton’s hand slip into hers, his thumb running over her knuckles in slow, steady circles.
“Think we can go three for three tonight?” he murmured, his voice a low drawl that sent warmth coating her stomach.
She arched her brow. “Are you planning on throwing me over your shoulder if we do?”
“Damn right.”
The envelope was opened and the name inside was revealed.
“And the Grammy goes to . . . Clayton Langley and Jamie Keaton,‘I Did A Good Job of Drinking’!”
Behind them Charlotte and Emily exploded with cheers, their tiny voices ringing over the applause.
Jamie barely had time to react before Clayton was grinning like a devil, his eyes flashing with mischief.
“No, wait, Clayton, don’t you dare . . .”
Too late.
A squeal escaped her as he swept her off her feet, tossing her over his shoulder like a damn sack of flour. Laughter and cheers filled the arena and Jamie smacked his back, even as she couldn’t stop the breathless laughter bubbling out of her.
When he set her down on stage she was shaking her head, barely able to suppress her smile as they took the mic.
“I think we both know there was a time we never would’ve dreamed we’d be standing here like this,” Clayton said, lacing his fingers through hers.
Jamie grinned. “Yeah, because I couldn’t stand you.”
Laughter rippled through the crowd.
“But somewhere along the way,” Clayton continued, his voice turning softer, more certain, “we figured out that maybe, just maybe, we make a damn good team. In music. In life.”
A voice suddenly rang out from the audience.
“We love you, Miss Mom!”
Jamie turned, catching sight of Charlotte and Emily waving wildly from their seats, their enthusiasm uncontainable.
Clayton chuckled beside her, his grip on her hand tightening. Jamie just shook her head, sending a playful kiss toward the girls before turning back to Clayton.
“Well, folks,” she said, clutching her statue, “I guess I’ve gone country.”
The applause thundered through the room as they exited the stage, their hands still clasped together.
But the night wasn’t over.
When the Country Album of the Year was announced, Jamie was still trying to catch her breath from the first win.
She felt Clayton tense beside her, though he kept his expression composed.
