Clayton let out a short laugh. “Doubt that.” He smirked. “Besides, men of sense, whatever you may choose to say, do not want silly wives.”
Momma’s eyes narrowed, then she huffed. “Austen.”
“Austen.”
She sighed. “Just don’t get your heart broken.”
“Well, last time I did I wrote a number-one song.”
As the truck bounced along the dirt road, Duke quietly riding beside him, Clayton replayed their conversation. Maybe Momma was right—maybe he was coming on too strong. But Jamie lit something in him he didn’t know how to dim.
He knocked on the front door, figuring she’d appreciate the effort since she’d all but read him the riot act the last time he showed up unannounced. When she opened it, wearing pajamas with Poppy’s face printed on them, he bit back a grin.
“I didn’t know you were comingtonight,” she said, looking put-out.
“You won’t even know I’m here.” He stepped inside, duffel bag slung over his shoulder, while Duke raced in, tail wagging.
“This really isn’t necessary,” she said, shutting the door behind him. “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I’ve been doing it since I was eight.”
“Sorryabout your momma.”
She waved that off. “Forget about my mom—yours is on another level. I appreciate her straightforwardness. No bullshit.”
Clayton smirked. “Birdie Langley does not suffer fools gladly.”
“To tell you the truth, she scares the living hell out of me.”
“Why do you think I’m still single—well, divorced, that is.”
Jamie snorted. “Want me to write you a list?”
“That might be helpful.” He couldn’t help but flirt with her. She was probably the sassiest woman he’d ever met and, unlike Tammy, she didn’t need anyone to take care of her. And, Lord help him, she was drop-dead gorgeous, especially in her pajamas.
Jamie picked up her dog off the couch and cradled her like a baby. “I feel bad you’re not with your girls.”
“I put them to bed, but not before they talked my ear off about you.”
“Do they like me?” she asked, almost like she didn’t believe it.
“Did they show you their Schleich horse collection?”
“Yeah, it’s really impressive. And they have all kinds of farm animals, not just horses.”
“They won’t let me near those things—scared I’ll break them.” He scratched his beard. “They love horses. Real horses. You ought to go riding with them.”
“You really want me to break my leg, don’t you?” She set Poppy back down and tucked her in with a blanket.
“Well, if you broke your leg you’d need me to help you.”
Jamie shot him a look. “Clayton, I wouldn’t need your help if I broke both arms and both legs.” She grabbed her guitar from its case. “Anyway, I’m going to finish this song. You sure you don’t want your bed back?”
“I kind of like you in my bed.”
Jamie rolled her eyes. “That’s a good song title.”
“It is,” he agreed, heading toward the kitchen. “Want a drink?”
“As long as it’s not beer.”
