Page 6 of Please, Stay

The small bell on the door chimed in tune with Bing Crosby’sWhite Christmasplaying over the speakers. Lexi Caden walked into the diner with her boyfriend, Nash Holloway, right behind her. Lexi was Statem’s newest addition, having recently evacuated from the big city of Atlanta to move to their charmingly nosey, little town.

He waved at Juliana, whispered something in Lexi’s ear, and then ambled over to their table. “Good morning, ladies.” He leaned on the back of the extra chair, his six-foot-two frame looking a little leaner since Lexi moved into his house. “How’s it going?”

“Good, but don’t you have a store to run?” Becky smiled cunningly. “Or have you made so much money you pay other people to run it for you?”

Nash didn’t take the bait. “You owe me three dozen cookies. Your table is running low.”

Becky’s eyes glinted. “Really?” She held out her hand. “Where’s my commission check?”

Rolling his eyes, he straightened and pulled out his wallet and then a check. They’d all been best friends for as long as Juliana could remember. Another reason Juliana never looked around her own hometown for a date. Most of the men her own age had someone. Nash was hooked up with Lexi, and even though Dewey was still single, she couldn’t get past thinking of him as a brother to give it a chance. And Cameron had Addie. Although, really, she couldn’t count him because, well, Cameron was her cousin, and Statem wasn’tthatbackwoods.

“Hey, Jules, my mom said that she heard that Hugh had to go to the hospital last night.” Nash held the check in his hand, aggravating Becky as she tried to pull it away without ripping it. He knew better than to play keep-away by holding it up too high. That left too much in the middle exposed for Becky to attack.

“He did, although it was a fight to get him there. It ended up being indigestion. The doctor said to keep his blood pressure low, though. Make sure he stays stress-free.” It wasn’t just for his heart. She needed to keep her dad’s stress to a minimum in the hopes that when Eliza came back home this Christmas, the two of them could finally reconcile.

“You know I love your daddy like he was my own, but that old coot will outlive us all.” Becky held out her hand. “Hand it over, Nash, before I play dirty.”

“Here. You earned seventy-three dollars last month. It’s picking up. I had two different customers come in looking specifically for your cookies. The new librarian claimed she’d tell her aunt about them. Runs some food magazine.”

Becky snatched the check from Nash. “I’m not looking for fame. I’ll take the check, though, and you’ll have your cookies by tomorrow.”

He grinned, that sexy, half-smile that no doubt snagged Lexi. “Thanks.”

Lexi called his name, holding up two to-go cups before smiling at Juliana and Becky.

“Gotta run.”

“Go sell the rest of my cookies,” Becky said, pushing him toward Lexi.

The little bell above the door chimed as Nash and Lexi left. Becky’s next comments faded into the background as Juliana’s mind came crashing to a stop.

A man stood at the entrance. His leather jacket stretched tight across amazing shoulders, thick with muscle. She could almost count his six-pack through his snug, black shirt as he shrugged out of the jacket. She’d seen those abs before. The piece of muffin she’d put in her mouth risked tumbling right back out.

Grayson Moore. It was Grayson Moore. No. She pulled her eyes away. Impossible. She’d only thought of himcontinuouslyfor the last three weeks.

He took up most of the entrance, looking like a giant in the land of spastic Christmas elves. A very rugged giant, in fact, with a trimmed beard and somehow perfectly messy dark, brown hair. With the black shirt, dark jeans, and Spanish heritage, he should be walking into a café somewhere fashionable in Madrid, not ducking under a cardboard snowflake that Mrs. Latham had tragically hung too low in the entryway. Fortunately for him, there wasn’t much glitter left on the poor snowflake. It’d been hit too many times, but a few remaining puffs of silver shimmer caught the sunlight as it showered down on his shoulders.

He’d fit right in. Half the town of Statem walked around most of the morning similarly covered with glitter from the fifty snowflakes gently rocking with each opening and closing of the door above their heads.

He scanned the restaurant with somewhat of a bemused smile. No wonder. Their town had its ownspecialway of showing off their Christmas spirit. The silver tablecloths reflected the flames dancing atop cinnamon-scented pillar candles sitting in the middle of each table. Gold and red garland framed the door behind him. Her town was jolly even if their taste was questionable.

She crossed her legs, almost upsetting the table. Both coffees sloshed close to the rim. She tried to catch the cups, catching most of the hot liquid on the back of her hand.

“Damn.” She snatched a couple napkins from the silver dispenser to wipe up her mess. Good thing he wasn’t watching her. He’d probably think she was the biggest klutz in the world. First icing all over her clothes, and now, coffee spilled across the table.

“Jules?” Becky grabbed onto the table to steady it. Her eyes narrowed. She twisted in her seat, whistling low a second later. “That’s one hunk of a man. He’d give Batman a run for his money.”

“Hush up,” Juliana managed to stammer out with his eyes now locked on her. It was him. It had to be Grayson. She resisted the urge to run a hand over her hair. It wouldn’t do any good anyway. She’d spent most of her night working at the paper, making sure the ancient-as-hell printing machine didn’t jam. A night spent in the company of Jeff, an employee who was over seventy, hadn’t warranted more than her worn, Georgia State University sweatshirt and old jeans. And, with the weather over sixty-five degrees, her comfy flip-flops were a must. Apparently, she should have reconsidered her wardrobe choice that particular morning.

Her breath caught in her throat as the corner of his lips pulled up in a lopsided grin. She looked at her muffin. Heat crept into her cheeks. That had to be a natural reaction, right? It’s not as if sexy movie stars visited Statem every day. Nope. Just on a day she hadn’t washed her hair or put on a stitch of makeup. She sniffed the sleeve of her sweatshirt. Only the finest perfume for her. A nice mix of detergent and old paper.

He stepped into the line to order, dismissing her as quickly as she’d assumed any famous person might do to an annoying fan. Is that what she was? She took a moment to watch him through her lashes as she picked apart her muffin. Why the hell was he here? She’d replayed their conversation nine-thousand times. He knew where she lived, but not in a million years did she expect him to show up out of the blue.

It might not be him. He did look a little untamed. The dark beard did a lot to separate him from his clean-cut character on the British series about the Monarchy. Prince Alfred. Even the last movie he starred in, he’d shaved his head and looked like he could kill a man with his bare hands.

He pulled out his wallet and paid. Mrs. Latham handed him a cinnamon roll on a green, holly leaf-shaped plate. Turning, he surveyed the room until he locked eyes with Juliana again. Shoot! Now she did seem like a crazy woman.

Becky leaned forward, her sweet smile not fooling Juliana. “Looks a little too dangerous for you. Not sure you could handle him.”

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