Page 67 of Please, Stay

Her dad pushed against Grayson’s chest. “Listen here,” he shouted. “I don’t know who you think you are coming in here like this.”

With her focus on Grayson and his unusual panic, it was easy to ignore her dad’s reddening face. She patted her dad’s shoulder. “Calm down. It’s fine.”

The door to the diner opened. The same lady she’d seen before pointed at her. “I knew that was her. And there’s Grayson!”

Another woman, short and athletic, pushed her way into the diner holding out a microphone. “Ms. Campbell, how long have you been dating Grayson Moore?”

“Grayson, Grayson!” The man Becky must have seen with the large camera shouted next. “Do you have any comment for assaulting the man in Atlanta?”

Juliana blinked as the camera flashes peppered her. More and more people continued to file in. It must have distracted her dad because Grayson’s arm snaked around her waist and pulled her backward into the kitchen. Over the top of the questions shouted by the strangers came Ms. Iris’s threat to call the police if they didn’t leave or start behaving in her diner.

Grayson led her through the kitchen, past the one confused cook, and around to the back entrance. He grabbed his helmet off a counter. Her new pink helmet sat there as well.

Juliana didn’t even know what to ask. The paparazzi had found them. That much was obvious. And, as he held out her helmet, she realized she was supposed to leave with him. No word about last night or yesterday. No explanation.

“Hurry,” he said as he clipped the latch on his helmet. The helmet fit over her ponytail, and she tried to snap the clip closed under her chin. Her shaking fingers fumbled as raised voices floated in through the cracked kitchen door. She’d worked most of the night, but that exhaustion disappeared as adrenaline began to pump through her body, but it left her feeling uncoordinated.

Grayson pushed her hands away and clipped the helmet for her like he’d done every time they’d ridden. He stepped away for a second and looked out the cracked back door of the diner. “Damn it. They’ve moved to the back, too. We need to run to my bike. I don’t want you in this mess.”

She laced her fingers through his. Scared was an understatement, but more than that, he worried her. The dark circles under his eyes and his mouth set in a hard line told her everything she needed to know. This is what he’d tried to avoid. The press. The attention. She didn’t want his Christmas ruined.

He tugged her out the door.

She sprinted, holding his hand tight.

Men and women shouted. Lights flashed. She kept her eyes glued to the ground to keep from falling.

Grayson cranked the motorcycle as Juliana climbed on the back. She wrapped her arms tight around his waist. The bike lurched forward. They passed the thirty or more people gathered outside. Cameras and cell phones pointed in their direction.

She buried her face in his back, blocking out the ice-cold wind. It sliced right through her light jacket and jeans. His motorcycle tilted side to side as he maneuvered around cars on the main street. He opened the throttle. It was a straight shot to the edge of town.

Then there were cars right behind them, honking and keeping pace. She refused to look at his speedometer. Really fast didn’t need a number attached to it to scare the hell out of her.

If Grayson headed to the open highway, would the paparazzi chase them all the way to Atlanta?

“Turn right at the end of this street!” She shouted. Her nerves might not make it to Atlanta. Her arms were already shaking from the grip she had on Grayson’s waist.

The motorcycle jerked when Grayson changed gears. Juliana held on tighter, leaning with him as he made the sharp turn. The cars crept closer.

“Take the next left.” Cameron better be home. She’d let the idiots behind them deal with a Sheriff’s deputy and pissed off country boy.

The honking cars rumbled over the gravel driveway behind them. Grayson weaved in between the parked police car and an old, blue truck. Cameron stepped onto the porch in blue jeans, bare feet, and his undershirt.

“They’re chasing us!” Juliana hated how scared her voice sounded.

Cameron reached back into his house, grabbing his radio. His dog, Lacy, raced out after the newcomers.

Grayson slowed the motorcycle, swinging his leg over the bars. He yanked her off with his next movement like something out of one of his movies.

Her feet didn’t touch the ground for a few moments, and then she stumbled after him, passing Cameron on the way.

They sprinted up the steps, Juliana’s hand gripped in his, as though he’d never let go. People filed out of their cars, still pointing cameras their direction.

“You’re trespassing,” Cameron shouted, holding up his badge. “And I’ll be happy to arrest anyone who doesn’t leave.”

Grayson slammed the door behind Juliana. He pulled her to him in a tight embrace. “I’m so sorry, Juliana.” He stroked her hair, his lips pressing against her temple. “I had no idea they would chase us. I just wanted to get you out of there.”

She gripped his tense shoulders. The numbness from the extreme ride began to wear off. Her body trembled no matter how much she willed it to stay still.

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