“Yeah, same.” Clearly there was more to the story. “I googled her, and there isn’t even a recent picture.”
“It’s weird, James. I’m curious about what happened.” Ruth lay on the bed, propping her head up with her hand. “Can I share a secret with you?”
Jamie arched an eyebrow and nodded.
She continued, her voice taking on a dreamy quality, “I have a crush on Dr. Nolan Langley.” A blissful sigh escaped her lips, her eyes glazing over.
“Really?” Jamie asked, tilting her head as she studied her friend. “He kind of looks like Clayton.”
Ruth’s dreamy expression snapped into one of pure indignation. “What do you mean? Clayton was People’s Sexiest Man Alive.”
She met her stare with an unimpressed look. “I don’t remember voting.”
Ruth gasped. “You don’t think he’s handsome?”
“You mean if I didn’t know him?”
Ruth nodded, urging her to be honest.
Jamie pursed her lips, considering. “I guess. But he’s so annoying I couldn’t get past it. And those dad jokes? The worst form of torture imaginable.” She shuddered for effect.
Ruth groaned, throwing her hand up. “You’re impossible.”
Four hours later they finally rolled into Atlanta. The sky stretched wide and clear, a crisp blue unmarred by clouds, and the mild seventy-degree air felt almost like spring—especially compared to the winter chill they’d left behind in Nashville.
Jamie walked to the front of the bus, hitching her bag higher on her shoulder as she stepped over a crumpled hoodie in the aisle. She exhaled, already picturing the gleaming marble floors of her hotel, the hush of luxury, and—most importantly—a bed that didn’t reek of Clayton.
“Well, look who’s up. You get some good rest?” Clayton asked.
“I wasn’t sleeping,” Jamie said defensively. “I was writing. Dusty thinks I can get at least two of my songs on the record.”
“What about Doofus?”
She smirked. “I wasn’t going to tell him.”
“He wouldn’t know the difference.” Clayton tugged at the mess of twisted ropes in his hands. “He asked for some changes on my last record, so I waited a few days and sent the tracks back.” He smirked. “Loved ’em.” He looked up, eyes glinting. “Didn’t change a damn thing.”
“I’m going out for a fucking smoke,” Gus interrupted.
“Language,” Clayton reminded him. “There’s a lady present.”
“Do I look like a lady to you?” Jamie smirked. “Your language is fine, Gus.” She locked eyes with Clayton. “I hate watching my language.”
Gus tipped his hat and took Duke with him.
“Where’s Ruth?” she asked.
“She went to check you guys in.” Clayton set down the ropes and picked up his guitar from the couch, strumming idly.
“Why don’t you have a PA?”
“A what?”
“A personal assistant.”
“Don’t need one.” He rested his guitar on his lap. “Want to hear something I’ve been working on?”
“I’ll put my Simon Cowell hat on.” She closed her eyes in response to his vacant stare. “Never mind. Don’t you watch television?”
