Picture this: the red carpet at the 2025 Paley Honors Fall Gala, a glittering affair where Hollywood’s finest mingle under crystal chandeliers, champagne flutes clinking like whispered secrets. Amid the swirl of sequins and spotlights, Reba McEntire – the fiery-haired country queen at 70, her smile as radiant as a Oklahoma sunset – pauses for a breathless interview. Her fiancé, the gravel-voiced actor Rex Linn, 68, stands just off-camera, his broad shoulders a quiet anchor in the frenzy. She’s wearing a ring that catches the light like a captured star, and when asked about wedding bells, her laugh bubbles up, warm and wry. “Wedding planning is impossible because of scheduling,” she confesses, eyes twinkling with that trademark McEntire mischief. “We’re like, ‘Well, we want it this month, but if work comes up, we’ll be there for work, and then we’ll go get married later.’ Work comes first, in other words.”
It’s a line that could soundtrack a thousand country ballads – the push-pull of passion and profession, the sweet ache of putting dreams on hold for the ones that pay the bills. But for Reba and Rex, it’s not a lament; it’s a love letter to a life lived on their terms. In an era of Instagram-perfect proposals and TikTok timelines, their story unfolds like a slow-burn vinyl record: decades in the making, rich with detours, and utterly unapologetic. Engaged since a candlelit Christmas Eve whisper in 2024, they’ve kept the world waiting – and waiting – for the big day. No Vegas elopement, no destination bash in Tuscany (despite one wildly speculative Facebook rumor that had fans in a frenzy last week). Just two icons, juggling Grammys and gunfights on set, savoring the “tremendously” joyful limbo of being almost-hitched.
As Reba slips her hand into Rex’s later that night – he in a tailored tux that hugs his cowboy frame, she in emerald velvet that hugs her curves – you can’t help but root for them. This isn’t just celebrity gossip; it’s a masterclass in mature love, the kind that laughs at logistics and leans into legacy. With Reba coaching divas on The Voice, starring in her sitcom Happy’s Place, and Rex chewing scenery as the no-nonsense sheriff on Longmire reruns and beyond, their calendars are war zones. Yet here they are, turning “impossible” into their most endearing duet yet. “I’m enjoying it tremendously,” Reba beams, flashing that ring like a badge of honor. “Got a ring on my finger. Yeah, I’m loving it.”
To understand why their wedding feels like the ultimate plot twist – and why fans are hanging on every delayed date – you have to rewind the reel. Reba McEntire isn’t just a name; she’s a force of nature, a woman who’s sold 75 million records, snagged three Grammys, and headlined the Grand Ole Opry more times than most folks change socks. Born in 1955 on a ranch in McAlester, Oklahoma, amid the dust and dreams of rodeo life, Reba was saddling horses before she could spell her name. Her daddy, Claude, a world-champion steer roper, taught her the grit that would fuel her rise: from high school talent shows to a steel magnolia belting “Fancy” on the charts. By the ’80s, she was divorce No. 1 on CMT, her voice a velvet whip cracking open hearts from Nashville to NoLa.
But love? That’s where the plot thickens. Reba’s walked two aisles before this one. Her first, at 21, was to Charlie Battles, a fellow rodeo rider who swept her off her boots in 1976. It was a whirlwind of hay bales and honeymoons, producing son Shelby, now 35 and a horseman in his own right. But by 1987, the spark had fizzled; divorce papers cited irreconcilable differences, though Reba later quipped it was more like “irreconcilable schedules.” Enter Narvel Blackstock in 1989, her manager and bandleader, who became husband No. 2 in a Nashville courthouse ceremony. For 26 years, they built an empire – Reba’s touring machine, her Broadway stint in Annie Get Your Gun, even a doll line. But whispers of Narvel’s wandering eyes led to a 2015 split, amicable on paper but gut-wrenching in the tabloids. “I was married to my work,” Reba reflected in her 2015 memoir Unlimited, a line that echoes today like a cautionary chorus.
Then came the pandemic pivot, 2020 – the year the world stopped, but Reba’s heart restarted. Enter Rex Linn, the towering Texan with a voice like bourbon over ice and a laugh that could fill a coliseum. Their paths first crossed 34 years earlier, in 1991, on the dusty set of The Gambler Returns: The Luck of the Draw, a Kenny Rogers TV movie where Reba played a saloon singer and Rex a gunslinger sidekick. She was 36, fresh off her divorce from Charlie, navigating superstardom solo. He was 34, a Dallas boy breaking into Hollywood after theater gigs and cattle ranching back home. “We instantly bonded over living in Oklahoma and our love for horses and acting,” Reba wrote in her 2023 cookbook-memoir hybrid Not That Fancy. “He made me laugh, and we became good buddies.”
That laugh – deep, rumbling, the kind that starts in your belly and ends in tears – was Rex’s secret weapon. Born in 1957 to an oilman father in the Lone Star State, he traded Longhorns for leading-man dreams early. By the ’90s, he was popping up in soaps like Nightingales and miniseries like Young Indiana Jones, but it was his gravelly timbre that hooked directors. Voiceover king: think AT&T ads, the off-screen narrator for The Sportsman Channel. On-screen? The booming bad guy in CSI: Miami, the lovable lawman in Longmire. Never married, no kids – Rex poured his heart into horses (he owns a spread in Oklahoma) and thespian pursuits. “I’ve always been a late bloomer,” he’d joke in interviews, a line that fate would italicize.
For three decades, Reba and Rex orbited like friendly planets – holiday cards, the occasional rodeo run-in, a shared agent who teased them about their “unrequited chemistry.” Then, lockdown hit. March 2020: Reba, isolating on her ranch, lost her hairdresser to COVID. Grief-stricken, she reached out to Rex, a mutual pal, for solace. “We talked for hours,” she told People in 2023. Days later, fate doubled down: both cast in Young Sheldon as feisty grandparents. Virtual chemistry reads sparked real-life sparks. By April, they were Zoom-dating over Oklahoma sunsets. “It was like no time had passed,” Rex recalled on the Your Last Meal podcast in 2022. “One minute we’re swapping horse stories, the next I’m flying to Nashville to cook her my chili.”
That chili – a Linn family legend, spicy enough to singe your sinuses – became their love language. May 2020: Rex touched down in Music City, mask dangling from one ear, a pot of his award-winning brew in hand. Reba, in jeans and a Stetson, greeted him with a hug that lingered. “We went to dinner, and it was magic,” she shared in Not That Fancy. Walks in the Parthenon gardens, late-night jam sessions where she’d croon and he’d croak along. By June, the world was reopening, but they were sealing shut any doubts. Paparazzi snapped them at a Nashville steakhouse, her hand on his knee, his eyes crinkled in that perpetual grin. “Dating at our age? It’s liberating,” Reba told Us Weekly that summer. No games, no ghosting – just two souls who’d waited lifetimes for this encore.
The timeline from there reads like a rom-com script with a country twang. July 2020: Quarantine road trip to Oklahoma, where Rex introduced her to his herd of quarter horses, and she schooled him in barrel racing (he ate dirt, hilariously). August: Joint interview on The Kelly Clarkson Show, where Reba gushed, “Rex is my rock, my comedian, my everything.” Fans ate it up – #RebaRex trended for days. September: First red carpet together at the ACM Awards, her in fire-engine red, him in boots polished to a sheen. “He’s the yin to my yang,” she quipped to reporters, as flashes popped like fireworks.
2021 brought depth to the dazzle. Reba’s Broadway dreams deferred by the delta wave, she leaned on Rex through virtual rehearsals for her residency at the Venetian in Vegas. He flew in weekly, trading Bosch shoots for backstage banter. “He knows my scars,” she confided in a Rolling Stone profile that spring. Rex, fresh off voicing a villain in The Morning Show, mirrored the vulnerability: “Reba’s laughter healed parts of me I didn’t know were broken.” October: They adopted a rescue pup, a scruffy mutt named “Sundae,” who became the furry mascot of their blended worlds – Reba’s three dogs and Rex’s equine empire now one big, barking brigade.
Pandemic silver linings peaked in 2022. Rex proposed a “quarantine vow” over FaceTime – not official, but a promise ring etched with horseshoes. Reba countered with a surprise: tickets to the Kentucky Derby, where they bet on longshots and won big (enough for a private jet joyride). By year’s end, whispers of cohabitation swirled; sources spotted Rex’s truck parked at Reba’s Brentwood manse. “We’re building a life, brick by loving brick,” she told AARP in early 2023.
The official ask came Christmas Eve 2024, in a scene straight from Reba’s own songbook. Snow dusting the Oklahoma ranch (a rarity, but magic nonetheless), Rex dropped to one knee by the fireplace, a velvet box holding a cushion-cut diamond flanked by sapphires – her birthstone, his nod to their bluegrass roots. “Reba, you’ve been my leading lady since ’91. Marry me, and let’s write the sequel,” he reportedly said, voice cracking like a vinyl groove. She said yes through tears and laughter, sealing it with a kiss that tasted of eggnog and eternity. But true to form, they zipped their lips. “We were going to announce it as soon as we got engaged,” Reba later explained at the Paley Gala, “but the fires happened here in Los Angeles. It was not the right time.”
Those wildfires – the devastating Palisades blaze that scorched celeb enclaves in January 2025 – stole headlines and heartstrings. Reba, ever the philanthropist, pivoted to relief efforts, her Reba’s Ranch Foundation donating millions to displaced families. Rex joined her on the ground, hauling supplies in his F-150, their engagement a private talisman amid the ashes. For nine months, they savored the secret: stolen weekends at his Texas spread, where he’d grill ribeyes while she’d strum guitar anthems-to-be. “It felt like our little conspiracy,” Rex shared in a rare Variety sit-down in July 2025. “Whispering ‘fiancé’ in bed, giggling like teenagers.”
The reveal? Pure poetry. September 15, 2025, Emmy Awards: Reba, nominated for her guest spot on Big Sky, glides the carpet in a gown of midnight blue, Rex at her elbow in classic black. No preamble – just her flashing the ring to E! News, declaring, “It never really presented itself until we went to the Emmys. It just kind of happened.” The internet imploded: #RebaRexWedding trended globally, memes of Reba’s “Fancy” video edited with tuxedo emojis flooded TikTok. Fans, from Swifties to seniors, swooned. “Proof that soulmates have no expiration date,” one X user posted, racking up 50K likes.
Now, three months post-announcement, the honeymoon haze meets reality’s rough edges. Wedding planning? A logistical labyrinth. Reba’s 2026 slate is a beast: The Voice Season 27 coaching gig (January-May), Happy’s Place filming (June-September, her NBC sitcom where she plays a bar owner inheriting her late husband’s watering hole), plus a Las Vegas residency reboot and a potential Broadway revival of Reba: The Musical. Rex? No slouch – guest arcs on NCIS, a Yellowstone spinoff whisper, and voice gigs for Disney’s next animated Western. “We only have 13 free days in 2026,” Reba revealed to AARP last week, her tone equal parts awe and amusement. “That’s it! So, low-key it is.”
Low-key, for these two, means intimate and intentional. No 500-guest extravaganza like Reba’s 1989 wedding to Narvel (complete with a 10-tier cake and Opry cameos). Instead: a ranch-side gathering at Reba’s Oklahoma spread, maybe 50 souls – family, Shelby and his wife Kelly, Rex’s siblings, a smattering of Young Sheldon alums. “We’ll host friends and family,” Rex told InStyle on November 12, “maybe some barbecue, a bluegrass band, and vows under the stars.” Reba envisions wildflowers from her own fields, not florist fuss; a playlist of their duets (she’s teasing an original “Rex’s Chili” ballad). Officiant? Likely Blake Shelton, her Voice protégé and fellow Okie, who’s joked about “tying the knot with a lasso.”
The delays? Not drama, but devotion. “Why rush?” Reba mused in a Good Housekeeping exclusive on November 15. “We’re enjoying this phase – the engagement glow without the gown fittings.” Rex echoes: “At our age, we’ve learned love isn’t a deadline. It’s a dance.” Their routine? Mornings mucking stalls (Reba’s 100-acre ranch is horse heaven), afternoons scripting lines (they workshop dialogue over lunch), evenings cuddled with Sundae, bingeing Ted Lasso. Shared passions fuel the fire: both avid equestrians, they’ve competed in charity cutting horse events, Rex’s booming “Yee-haw!” syncing with Reba’s whoops. Acting binds them too – dream project? A Western rom-com where she plays a sheriff, he her reluctant deputy. “The chemistry’s there,” Reba winks. “Hollywood, take note.”
Fans adore the authenticity. On X, posts gush: “Reba and Rex proving 70 is the new forever young. #NoRushToTheAltar,” one viral thread reads, sparking 10K replies. Another: “In a world of flash-mob proposals, their slow jam is soul food.” It’s resonating beyond country circles – AARP’s engagement piece hit 2 million views, with boomers sharing their own late-life love stories. “God saved the best for last,” Reba told the mag, a line that’s become their unofficial mantra.
Of course, no fairy tale skips the thorns. Reba’s past divorces cast long shadows – the sting of public scrutiny, the ache of co-parenting across coasts. “I’ve been burned, but Rex? He’s balm,” she confided to People in October. For Rex, the bachelor tag brought baggage: “Folks assumed I was commitment-phobic. Truth? I was waiting for her.” Their age gap? A mere two years, but maturity’s the real bridge. No kids between them (Rex dotes on Shelby like a second son), but legacies to blend: Reba’s shelf of CMA Awards, Rex’s shelf of character-actor Emmys.
As 2025 wanes, whispers of a spring 2026 “pop-up” ceremony swirl – perhaps tying into Reba’s Vegas run, with Elvis impersonators for flair. Or, per one insider, a courthouse quickie followed by a hoedown. Whatever the when, the why is clear: this isn’t about the dress or the dance floor; it’s about two hearts that found their harmony after half a century’s overture. In Reba’s words, from a gala afterparty toast: “We’ve got the rest of our lives. Why not make the planning part fun?”
And so, as fairy lights twinkle over Malibu’s recovering hills, Reba and Rex drive home – top down, radio crooning her “The Heart Is a Lonely Hunter.” The road ahead? Windy, wondrous, wedding TBD. But for now, in the rearview, nothing but love’s long, lovely trail.
