“I was trying to protect you,” Ruth’s voice wavered.
Jamie closed her eyes, the weight of five years of friendship pressing on her. “I know,” she said, softening. “Let’s forget it, okay?”
“Okay, but I have to tell you something . . .”
“Now what?”
“You’re receiving more threats, and Shorty wants to bring in the authorities.”
Jamie let out a sigh. “I’m sure it’s nothing.”
“They’re from Memphis Girl, warning you to stay away from Clayton.”
“That’s a little difficult with me staying here.”
“Please report any suspicious activity,” she said, concern evident in her voice. Her assistant worried more than her parents ever had, and it was comforting to have someone around who cared. “How are you holding up?”
“I’m mortified, Ruth.” Jamie dropped her head into her hands, elbows resting on the kitchen island. “Derrick’s tangled up with a teenager he swore he couldn’t stand.”
“The media’s turning against him,” Ruth said.
“I’m not surprised.” Jamie exhaled. “A famous actor and a kid? Of course people are questioning their power imbalance. I doubt he even considered the consequences. He hates bad press.”
“Serves him right,” Ruth said.
Jamie blinked.Ruth?Miss sunshine-and-rainbows? The woman apologized to empty chairs, for God’s sake. Jamie had enough bite for both of them, but that edge in Ruth’s voice caught her off guard.
“It sure does,” she said, recovering.
“What’s on your agenda today?” Ruth asked, shifting the subject.
Jamie landed her gaze on Clayton’s acoustic guitar, propped in the corner. “I guess I’ll write some music while I’m stuck out here. Not much else to do except stare at cows.”
“Everything’s better with cows around.”
“What?”
“Oh.” Ruth laughed. “It’s a Corb Lund song.”
Jamie sighed. Of course, it was—some country singer, no doubt.
“Depending on how long I’m out here I might need a satellite phone.”
“I’m on it!”
After spending a few hours lost in a book Jamie turned her focus to songwriting. The words came fast—sharper than she expected. She called it “When We Two Parted,” borrowing from Lord Byron, knowing titles couldn’t be copyrighted. She’d never written a breakup song but this one poured out of her, raw and unfiltered. Derrick had lied to her and she wanted the world to know it.
A knock sounded at the door and Poppy barked, but she remained on the couch.
“Anyone home?” Clayton called out.
Jamie approached the front door, annoyed with him for dropping by unannounced, even though it was his house. “Ever thought about calling first?” she asked in a sarcastic tone. Clayton pointed to the landline—the receiver was off the hook. “Oh, I didn’t want to be disturbed.” She motioned toward his guitar. “I hope you don’t mind. I got inspired to write.”
“A breakup will do that.”
“Yeah, whatever.” She shrugged. “Technically we were on a break, like Rachel and Ross.”
“Who?”
