She thought about the long list of Derrick’s dietary restrictions—gluten, dairy, shellfish, tree nuts, peanuts, and a bunch of fruits she couldn’t keep track of. She smiled at Clayton and replied, “Nope.”
A little while later Ruth arrived at the ranch with Jamie’s carry-on bag and her Martin guitar. Jamie sighed in relief at the sight of them, reaching for the guitar case first, her fingers brushing over the worn leather handle.
“You’re a lifesaver,” Jamie said, giving her friend a grateful smile. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
Her assistant hugged her. “Same, James.”
“Thanks for coming to this dinner thing with me,” Jamie said, sitting on the couch. “As you know, I’m not great with parents, especially mothers.”
Ruth had agreed to stay for dinner, partly because she never turned down a home-cooked meal, but mostly because she wasn’t about to pass up a chance to see Nolan.
“Are you serious?” Ruth popped her gum. “I like nothing more than a family get-together.”
“You’re a sick puppy.” She glanced at Ruth before pausing. “Can you believe that after five years of dating Derrick’s mom still has pictures of his ex in her house?”
“Mrs. Anderson isn’t very nice,” Ruth said as she reached into her bag. “I know you’re not getting service out here, so I grabbed some magazines.”
“Rags.”
“They’re mostly about Derrick and what they’re calling his ‘child bride.’”
Jamie wiggled her fingers. “Hand them over.” Ruth gave her a stack of tabloids. “Wait, is there anything about me?”
“Not much.” Ruth shrugged. “You’re hardly mentioned.”
“I don’t know if that’s a good or bad thing.”
A car honked in the driveway and Jamie’s stomach churned. She gripped the kitchen counter, silently praying for some last-minute catastrophe—an earthquake, a blackout, a meteor crashing through the roof. Anything to get her out of this dinner.
But the universe, as always, was unhelpful. So was her immune system. She hadn’t been sick in years, thanks to that damn flu shot.
Derrick, of course, wouldn’t have that problem. He was an anti-vaxxer—claimed he didn’t trust putting “unnatural chemicals” in his body unless it was Botox.
The horn blared again, longer this time. Impatient.
Jamie exhaled slowly, steeling herself. One dinner. Just one.
She could survive it. Probably.
“That must be Clayton,” Ruth said, handing Jamie the bottle of wine and the flowers she’d brought. “Are we taking Poppy?”
“No, the lazy princess is sleeping. Plus, Duke’s a disaster when they’re together.” Jamie smirked, picturing the chaos that always ensued when her poodle and Clayton’s lab got together. One more thing she and Clayton couldn’t agree on: dog discipline. Not that it surprised her.
She opened the front door just as a truck pulled up, Nolan behind the wheel and Clayton lounging in the passenger seat like he owned the place. Of course he didn’t just sit, he sprawled, all long legs and careless confidence.
“Hi, Nolan!” Ruth waved as she brushed past Jamie, practically vibrating with excitement.
“Hi, ladies!” Nolan called back, his easy smile making Ruth nearly sprint toward him. Jamie sighed. Subtlety was not her best friend’s strong suit.
She turned her gaze to Clayton, who was already watching her. He didn’t say a word, just winked. A slow, cocky, damn-well-knowing-what-he-was-doing wink.
Jamie rolled her eyes as she climbed into the truck’s cab, determined not to let him get to her. But the way his gaze lingered made her pulse stutter for half a second longer than she’d ever admit to.
“It’s nice to see you again, Ruth,” Nolan said, grinning as he held the door open for her. “Hi, Jamie.”
Ruth giggled—actually giggled. “The pleasure’s mine, Dr. Langley.”
Jamie bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. Ruth, ever the picture of charm, had suddenly turned into a nervous mess. She was never going to let her live this down.
