Page 27 of Please, Stay

Grayson’s mouth fell open as Juliana covered her own to suppress a laugh.

Rhonda leaned down and patted him on the shoulder. “You’re a lot nicer looking in person. The beard helps a bit.” She tilted her head to the side, her mouth downturned. “But still no James Dean.”

“Thank you.” He took his driver’s license back. “I think.”

She shuffled away. Grayson rubbed a hand over his beard. “That might have been the nicest insult I’ve ever received.”

“I doubt you receive very many insults.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You’d be surprised. Especially at how mean some journalists can be when reviewing my movies.”

“Don’t even. I didn’t insult you, just the script.”

He reached out for her hand, but she dropped it below the table. “I think I better keep that for now.”

“You don’t trust me?”

“Trust?” She cocked her head to the side, imagining how this night might end if she didn’t have her father hovering around the edges of her decisions like a guard dog. “I think you’ve never sat on this side of the table from yourself. Aside from your fame, your entire presence is a little overwhelming.”

A different waitress Juliana didn’t recognize set their drinks on the table, her eyes locked on Grayson in female appreciation. She hadn’t realized it before, but without the threat of her father or the intensity of the motorcycle rides, Grayson wasn’t a movie star. Not anymore. He still made her nervous, but there was something more. Then it clicked.

“You’re nice.”

He choked on the beer, coughing until he took another drink. “Nice?”

“Yeah.” Had no one ever told him he was nice before? By the way he seemed to consider it an insult, it didn’t look like it. “You seem like a genuinely nice guy. That’s a little surprising.”

“And that’s why you don’t trust me?”

“No.” She gripped her hands together in her lap. “That’s why I don’t trust myself.”

10

As the unseasonably warm day shifted into the night, the temperature slowly dipped into the mid-fifties. The cold wind sliced through Grayson’s shirt as he shifted gears on his motorcycle. The speed kicked up a notch. Juliana’s arms tightened around his waist. Rarely did he date a woman who wanted to ride his bike. It’d mess up their hair or clothes. For a woman who played her life so safe, Juliana laughed and squeezed him when he took a turn, leaning to the side with the bike.

He’d refused to let her go home after they finished dinner. Not yet. Not when he didn’t know the next time she’d get away from her dad. The only thing he’d thought to offer her was a ride in the dark. Good thing he’d filled up the tank. After staying at the restaurant until closing, they’d driven around for the past hour. Backcountry, two-lane roads that meandered all over the southern part of Georgia.

Police lights silently flashed behind them.

Not the best way to end a date. He followed Juliana’s hand signals and shouts and killed the motorcycle in front of a house a few miles outside of town. Small town cops stopped him when riding through on his bike. Some recognized him. Others didn’t. Juliana didn’t move right away.

“I should go ahead and apologize.”

Grayson set his kickstand. “For what?”

“Family.”

He stilled. “Don’t tell me your dad’s a cop, too.” That would top it off.

A small laugh escaped. “No.” She swung her leg over the back of the bike and pulled the helmet off. Her long hair fell around her shoulders and over his jacket she’d worn for the ride. “But my uncle is.”

“Awesome.” The barriers to dating Juliana continued to mount. Hell, if he’d walk away now. Did her uncle have a thing against guys also?

The police cruiser's door opened, and he exited, his boots crunching over the gravel. His long, lanky frame looked ready to fight in an MMA ring instead of playing the part of Andy Griffith in the Statem.

“Jules?” The young man’s voice didn’t meet with Grayson’s expectation of an uncle, either.

“I thought you were Uncle Jimmie.”

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