Page 10 of Please, Stay

“I’m not one of those kinds of reporters,Mr. Redding. I don’t print things just to sell papers. Consider your message received, loud and clear. I’ll leave you to your breakfast. I’m sure you can search for Statem inWikipediaand find all the information you need.”

Before he realized he’d done it, he grabbed her forearm in a loose grip to keep her from walking past him. He’d traveled across the country to see her. He wouldn’t ruin it over something this trivial.

“Juliana.” He waited until their eyes met. “Please don’t make me eat alone. I do that enough as it is.” Guilt tightened his throat. A part of him had worried she might squeal to the press. After seeing her again, the pure honesty in her face, he wondered why he’d ever doubted his instinct in trusting her.

Her green eyes softened.

His body tensed, but it wasn’t the guilt this time. Attraction. Plain, old-fashioned attraction to a pretty woman. So different from Hollywood. Quick flings with co-stars or models never resulted in a lasting relationship.

Every relationship had an expiration date. When the fake coverings wore off, and he finally had a glimpse of the person underneath. But he relied on that. A long-term commitment to anyone wasn’t in the cards for him.

She sat back down, avoiding eye contact. Grayson finished his cinnamon roll in silence. She seemed to have given up on destroying her muffin.

Finally, she sighed and acknowledged him again. “Where would you like to start the tour?”

“You pick.” Grayson drained the last of his coffee. He wiggled a finger in his ear. “As long as it doesn’t involve Christmas music, I’m all in.”

Her smile transformed her entire face into something sinfully angelic. “Are you against Christmas music?”

“Not really, but I don’t tend to celebrate Christmas.”

“Will you be here through Christmas?”

“Yes.”

Her lips parted with a soft breath. “You don’t see family or anything?”

He answered her with a pleasant smile. His personal information, that side of his life, wasn’t up for discussion. Spending a couple weeks with Juliana didn’t entail opening himself up and revealing his past. She held his gaze for a beat longer before seeming to drop it and rise from the table. “I have work in a few minutes.”

“Then we’d better get started on my tour.”

He followed her outside and onto the main street of Statem. Juliana took a deep breath. “I guess we’ll start right here. This is Jefferson Street.” The view matched the mental imaged he’d conjured up when she’d described the place. Large, colorful antebellum homes with wraparound porches had greeted him on the way in. Old brick buildings, mature oak trees, and even a few white picket fences lined the main street. Instead of a one-horse town, Statem was a one-light town.

She lifted her face to the sun and closed her eyes. “I sure do enjoy a cold, crisp December,” she said, enhancing her Southern accent. He could play along.

He refolded his jacket over one arm as he held out his other arm and gave a short bow. “Well, Miss Juliana, can I escort you on this fine, swelterin’ day?”

The sunlight glinted off her hair, reminding him of dark honey. She smoothed a hand down the front of her jeans as she might a wide hoop-skirt and fanned herself like a delicate Southern Belle. “Why, yes, sir, Mr. Henry, I’d be delighted.”

She laughed. A fraction of the tension he usually carried around released with the sound.

Juliana’s voice held a smooth cadence as she spoke with authority and pride in her hometown. She knew where she came from. Her ancestors and roots, no matter who they were or what they did, she had a history. A past.

He would never know that feeling.

“It’s been said that the ghost of Miss Penny Jenkins still roams the Richardson County Library down the way. She’s waitin’ on Benjamin Carrol to meet her there. Their parents didn’t like one another. Kind of like a Hatfields and McCoys type thing.” A wistful smile played on her lips as she looked down the road at the library. “They’d leave each other notes in a book of Shakespeare.”

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from her. “How’d she die?”

“Broken heart. Benjamin was killed at Gettysburg. Miss Penny didn’t wake up the next morning after hearing the news.” A soft sigh escaped her lips. Her sweet, innocent face captivated him more than any actress. She pointed further down the road. “And, at the end of the street, is theDispatch.”

“That’s where you work?” Grayson still held her hand in the crook of his arm. Each time her fingers moved, that thin edge of attraction crept forward a little more. She spoke to him like a real person. Not an actor. Even the co-stars he’d dated didn’t understand his need to have something solid. Normal. Everyone else seemed content with living in the privileged, fantasy world of Hollywood. Here he was, clamoring to experience something real. Juliana’s life and her problems were real.

“Yes. My father and I run the entire thing. From the stories to the printing. He’s planning to retire next year. He’s battling a few health problems, and I’ll take over. I already signed the purchase contract to buy him out.”

Grayson lifted her hand from his arm, studying the ink stains along the edges of her nails. “You do the printing?” More ink stains along her pants caught his eye. She tried to wiggle her hand free, and he finally released it.

“Yes. I do. The paper only comes out on Saturdays and Sundays, so we print from about mid-day Friday until midnight tonight. An old press requires a lot more manual attention than the newer ones. I don’t operate the mechanical side of it unless they need me.” She wiggled her fingers. “That’s the dirty work.”

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