He stretched each letter like he had swirled his tongue in molasses. God, why was she thinking about histongue?
She was there to work, not hit on the talent. Why would he look twice at her? His options were probably like Olive Garden breadsticks: never-ending and hot.
Brinton, meanwhile, saw herself as more like a cute librarian than an Instagram baddie. At least she was blessed with enough curves that she needed to jump when pulling on jeans.
Jamie outstretched his catcher’s mitt-sized palm. When she took it, he squeezed.
God, his hands were huge.
Brinton’s belly clenched. Was it the thrill of unexpected warmth from his touch? Or, the triple shot of espresso that she had downed on an empty stomach?
It didn’t matter. She had to get herselftogether. First priority: stop staring at this man. Brinton dropped Jamie’s hand and pushed out a shallow breath. Her eyes shifted to Lucero’s camera.
It was showtime.
“If you’re just joining the live stream, I’m Brinton Shaw,” she said. Immediately, she regretted how tinny her voice sounded. “I have a special guest with me, country music superstar Jamie Crawford Jr.”
Without missing a beat, he flashed that glimmering, for-the-cameras grin. “I’m a huge fan of the magazine. Believe me, the pleasure is all mine, Ms. Shaw.”
Ms. Shaw. A white-hot flash zipped up her spine as his smoldering baritone warmed her ears. For some reason, it anchored her enough so she could focus.
Keep your thoughts on the sound of his voice.
“Just wait until I’ve asked my questions,” Brintonanswered. Her voice felt a hint steadier. Richer. Jamie’s eyes flickered. Did he notice too?
“Maybe you’ll go easy on me, since you’ve got home field advantage?” he asked, dragging those perfectly white teeth over his pillowy bottom lip. She had to stop looking at hislips.
“Um, we should get into tonight’s nominations. You’re up for Best New Artist,” she stammered. “You must be ecstatic.”
“I…” His voice trailed off. Jamie’s eyes fell to his black cowboy boots. “I’m grateful to be here, but I don’t always feel like I deserve such fortune.”
Brinton raised her eyebrows. “I think your fans would disagree. Your song ‘Table for One’ shot to the top of the Hot 100 chart. It was the first country single to do so since, well…”
“My father,” Jamie answered flatly. He frowned, then gazed back down at the ground. “Yeah, I couldn’t believe it either.”
Was he embarrassed? Who knew that was a prerequisite to Nepo Baby fame?
“I think you made the heartbreak anthem your own,” Brinton volleyed back. “The facets of humor beneath the sadness were so unexpected.”
He softly smiled, then leaned closer to her microphone. “Oh yeah? What were you expecting?”
Was he flirting with her? And did she like it? Or rather,shouldshe like it?
Brinton wet her lips. Her thoughts raced quicker than her mouth could move.
“I wasn’t expecting that any woman could makeyoucry into your whiskey. I mean, you’re the Heartbreak Prince. You don’t earn that nickname lightly.”
“Well, I’m full of surprises,” he quipped, as if egging her on.
Brinton took the bait. “Okay, then I have to ask, who was the lucky lady? You sing about so many women in that song. First crush, maybe?”
Technically, Rich had pushed Brinton to ask this. She wasn’t angling to dig into Jamie’s personal life. Even if he probably had an industrial storage unit full of women’s panties fans had flung on stage. But Brinton was on a mission. She had to land this plane.
“Oh, honey, I don’t kiss and tell.” Jamie chuckled through a slow, easy smile. “Though, now I’m wondering if it might be you?”
He was definitely flirting with her. Famous people did this all the time to seem more relatable. So why did her mouth feel like she had licked a roll of sandpaper?
“Let’s, um, stay on track,” Brinton countered. Suddenly, she was burning up. It must be Lucero’s lighting rig. Obviously.
