CHAPTER 35 #3
“The press. The fans. The industry.” Shorty pulled off his hat and rubbed his forehead. “There’s already a ton of speculation about you two, and now it’s going to explode. And not in a good way.”
Clayton waved a hand dismissively. “Let them talk.”
Shorty’s expression hardened. “That attitude might work for you, but Jamie’s single is taking off. If this turns into a circus it won’t just be a distraction—it could change the entire narrative around her music.”
Jamie’s stomach dropped. She hadn’t thought about it like that. She’d spent years building her career, controlling her image. The last thing she needed was for all the attention to shift from her music to whatever people thought was happening between her and Clayton.
Shorty glanced between them, his usual easy-going demeanor replaced with sharp focus. “You need a plan. Fast. Before this blows up in your faces.”
Jamie exhaled slowly. “What do you suggest?”
Shorty rubbed his beard, thinking. “I’ll bring in a film crew. They’ll capture you two recording. We’ll release the single as a behind-the-scenes video and control the story before the media runs wild with their own version.”
The crew arrived a few hours later, setting up lights and reflectors while cameras rolled. They captured everything—the missed lyrics, the laughter, the way Jamie and Clayton instinctively leaned into the music, perfectly in sync despite their differences.
She focused on the song but the cameras saw more than just the music. They caught how Clayton watched her when he thought she wasn’t looking. The way their voices blended, as if they’d been doing this for years.
When they wrapped Shorty looked satisfied. “This feels raw and real—exactly what we need.”
Jamie wasn’t sure if he meant for the fans or something else entirely.
A few days later Jamie returned to the studio to re-record a part she wasn’t happy with. Clayton’s vocals were flawless—of course they were. But she wasn’t about to let him outshine her.
She entered the control room and Dusty and Evan pulled up her track on the screen.
“It sounds great, Jamie,” Dusty said. “If there’s anything you want tweaked I can fix it in post.”
“Nope,” she said. “Not using editing on this. Sorry.”
Dusty sighed. “If you insist.”
She walked into the vocal booth, adjusted her headphones, and breathed. One take, that’s all she needed. When the verse came through the speakers, it was perfect.
“We got it,” Dusty’s voice boomed through the mic. “Come in here for a sec, please.”
She pulled off her headphones. “What’s up?”
“The artist I’m producing wants to know if you have any songs.”
Jamie frowned. “What artist?”
Dusty leaned back in his chair, smirking. “Reba McEntire.”
Her heart nearly stopped. “I don’t write country songs.”
Dusty chuckled. “Tell that to your number-one hit.”
She hesitated, then shook her head with a breathless laugh. “I mean . . . I’ve got hundreds of songs.”
“That’s what I figured.” He nodded. “Send me a few when you get home. No pressure, but she’s got an album to finish. ”
When Jamie returned to the ranch she was riding an adrenaline high. She couldn’t wait to tell Clayton that Reba McEntire had requested one of her songs. This was it, this was what she’d always wanted: to be a songwriter.
She burst through the door. “Clayton, come quick!”
He appeared from the kitchen, brows furrowed. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong.” She shook her head, breathless with excitement. “Reba McEntire wants one of my songs!”
His expression shifted instantly, a slow smile spreading across his face as he pulled her into his arms. “That’s incredible! What song?”
She adjusted her topknot, her mind racing. “I don’t know. I have hundreds, but they’re all rock.”
“Then why not write a new one?”
She blinked, then grinned. “That’s a great idea.” Grabbing her acoustic guitar, she flopped onto the couch. “I’m going to write a country song.”
“I love that for you,” Clayton teased, mimicking the women on The Bachelor .
She laughed—then froze. “Wait. That’s actually a great song title. Do you want to help me write it?”
His brows lifted. “Thought you didn’t co-write.”
“Things have changed, Clayton.” She met his gaze, her smile softer now. “A lot of things.”
They spent the afternoon crafting the song, Clayton working out the music while Jamie shaped the lyrics and melody. The process flowed effortlessly, as if the song had been waiting for this moment.
Her phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen and her stomach flipped.
“Oh no.”
Clayton looked up. “What is it? ”
She turned the phone toward him. “My exam results are in.”
“Well, go on, now. Let’s see how you did.”
Her hands felt clammy. “I can’t look.”
“Want me to do it?”
She nodded, logged into her account, and passed him the phone. He tapped the screen, his expression unreadable as her heart pounded.
After a beat, he smirked. “What’s the first line of ‘I Did a Good Job of Drinking’?”
“What?” She wrinkled her nose, thrown by the question. Then it hit her. “Congratulations are in order?”
Clayton nodded. “You passed, darlin’.”
A breath she hadn’t realized she was holding rushed out of her. Before she knew it she was off the couch, throwing her arms around him, happy tears slipping down her cheeks.
Everything she’d wanted—her dream, her future, and Clayton—had come together in one perfect day.
A sharp knock sounded at the door, followed by the dogs barking. Even little Heathcliff scrambled to the door, his nails clicking against the floor.
Jamie tensed. “Are you expecting someone?”
“Not a soul,” Clayton said, already moving.
Jamie followed a step behind as he pulled open the door. Standing on the porch was Shorty, flanked by two officers in Williams County Sheriff’s Office uniforms .
Her pulse quickened. Whatever this was, it wasn’t good.
“Howdy, folks,” Clayton said, opening the door wider. “How can I help you?”
Shorty gave a quick nod. “Mind if we come in?”
Clayton stepped aside, letting them in. Jamie barely breathed as Shorty gestured to the officers. “This is Deputy Moore, and this is Deputy King. They’d like a word.”
Jamie’s pulse drummed in her ears. “Are we in trouble?”
“Have a seat,” Shorty said.
Jamie and Clayton sank onto the couch while the officers and Shorty stood.
“This is about the threats you’ve been getting,” Shorty told them.
Jamie exhaled in relief, tension releasing from her shoulders.
“Did y’all find the person responsible?” Clayton asked, squeezing her hand.
Deputy King nodded. “We did.”
Jamie sat up straighter. “Who is it?”
“Is it Tammy Travis?” Clayton guessed.
Deputy King shook his head. “AJ Baxter.”
The air in the room shifted. Jamie blinked, her mind scrambling to make sense of the name.
“What?” Her voice came out thin, barely there. Her father?
“We worked with Las Vegas PD on this,” Deputy Moore explained. “He was arrested this morning.”
Jamie barely heard him over the rush of blood in her ears.
Deputy King cleared his throat. “With his prior convictions he’s looking at significant jail time—if you want to press charges.”
Clayton’s grip on her hand tightened. “She does.”
“This doesn’t make sense,” she whispered. “I’m his daughter.”
Deputy King nodded grimly. “He told the Vegas police he was trying to get you press. Put you in the headlines.”
Jamie let out a bitter laugh. “Press? Since when has he ever given a damn about my career? ”
Shorty sighed. “It wasn’t about helping you, Jamie. It was about helping himself.”
That sounded like AJ.
Deputy Moore added, “Vegas PD found out he’s in deep with some bad people—gambling debts, unpaid loans. He needed cash, fast.”
Jamie’s pulse pounded in her ears. “So what? He thought somehow scaring me would make him rich?”
“Not exactly,” Deputy King said. “He figured if he created a scandal between you and Clayton it would drive up your publicity, framing Tammy in the process. Bigger media attention, more press. He told the officers, and I quote, ‘A little drama never hurt a celebrity.’”
Clayton cursed under his breath. “That son of a bitch.”
Jamie shook her head, trying to process it. “We never made the threats public.”
“He got desperate.” Shorty crossed his arms. “That’s when he tried to sell your story to the tabloids—about your mother being a drug addict and you being homeless.”
Jamie inhaled sharply. That was it. That was always it. AJ had never seen her as his daughter. She was a business opportunity. A paycheck.
Jamie swallowed against the lump rising in her throat.
“Jesus, I can’t believe this.” She dropped her head into her hands, but the disbelief didn’t last long.
Of course AJ was behind this.