Reba tapped a finger to her chin, pretending to consider. “An Okie, huh?” Then she grinned. “All right, I’ll allow it.”
Jamie pulled out her phone, knowing Ruth would be too shy to ask. “Can I get a picture?”
Reba turned to her. “Are you Jamie Keaton?”
“I am.” Jamie shook her hand.
“That song of yours with Clayton is on my playlist.”
Jamie smiled. “Thank you, Ms. McEntire.”
“Reba,” she corrected with a wink.
“Thank you, Reba.”
Jamie held up her phone as Reba put an arm around Ruth.
“Say cheese,” Jamie said, snapping the picture just as Ruth erupted into laughter, gasping for air. The shot would be perfect—pure, unfiltered happiness.
All that waiting for a two-minute rehearsal. Jamie barely had time to get comfortable before it was over. She and Clayton were presenting Group of the Year—he read his lines, she read hers, and the pre-taped video rolled, announcing the nominees. When it ended Jamie had the honor of revealing the winner.
As soon as they were done the stage manager ushered them backstage to the green room, where Ruth was still deep in conversation with Reba. From the way they were laughing they looked like old friends.
Jamie and Clayton stopped by the bar and he ordered their drinks—using his Steve Trevor accent, of course. She rolled her eyes but accepted the glass anyway.
When they reached Ruth and Reba, still chatting like besties, Ruth turned to them. “How did it go?”
Jamie took a sip. “Quick.”
Clayton grinned. “Smooth.”
Reba glanced at her watch and let out a little sigh. “Shoot, I’ve got to run. I’ll see y’all tonight.” With a warm smile she gave Ruth’s arm a squeeze and was gone.
A large man wearing a security uniform approached them, his expression unreadable.
“Miss Keaton?” His voice was calm but Jamie’s stomach tensed at the way he looked at her—serious, like she was in trouble.
She swallowed hard. “Yes?”
“There’s someone waiting for you in your dressing room.”
Jamie’s pulse skipped. “Who?”
“I don’t know, ma’am.” He shrugged. “They just told me to tell you.”
Her breath caught in her throat. A thousand possibilities flashed through her mind, none of them good. Her body went rigid, a cold weight pressing on her chest.Please, not him.
“I’m coming with you,” Ruth said firmly, her eyes narrowing. “It could be your stalker.”
Jamie curled her fingers into fists. Her skin prickled as a familiar unwanted fear crawled up her spine. “How would my stalker even get past security?” she said, but her voice wasn’t as steady as she wanted it to be. She took a step toward the exit, her heart hammering now.What if it’s Derrick?The thought alone sent a chill through her.
Clayton stepped closer. “I’m coming too.”
Jamie nodded, her throat tight, and followed the security guard, each step heavier than the last.
The security guard opened a door with a star sign that readjamie keaton.
“AJ?” Jamie froze in the doorway, stunned to see her father lounging in her chair across from the vanity. But of course he’d found his way backstage, probably spinning some story to an unsuspecting stagehand about how he’d been invited.
