Page 8 of Please, Stay

“Jules?”

She snapped her head up. He’d used her nickname, and the sound of it coming from his lips made the flush in her cheeks grow hotter. She wanted to take the sweatshirt off, but the ratty, thin T-shirt under it forced her to suffer in silence. It was in worse condition than the sweatshirt. Instead, she pulled the sleeves down, covering her ink-stained fingertips.

“Juliana, you've been daydreaming all morning. Do you have a name, stranger?” Becky gave Grayson a wide, expectant smile.

A flicker of something pulled his eyebrows down for a split second. “Henry Redding.” He nudged Juliana’s foot like some sort of secret message.

Living undercover only worked if you blended into a crowd. Grayson could never blend in. Beard or no beard. Long hair or short. It didn’t matter. His sex appeal refused to be covered.

Eventually, someone was bound to recognize him. Until then, a small part of Juliana enjoyed that no one except her knew about him.

Becky finished her pastry and pushed her plate away. “Do you have any plans, Henry?”

“Relax. Learn about Statem’s history. I haven’t spent much time in this part of the country.”

Becky’s crystal blue eyes sparkled as she pressed her lips together. Slowly, she gathered her trash and stood.

Oh, no. That look always spelled trouble.

“If it’s the history you’d like, then you need Juliana to give you a tour. She knows the history of this town better than anyone.”

Juliana clenched her teeth together, widening her eyes. “You should joinus.” If she used their last meeting as the benchmark, she’d make a fool of herself alone with Grayson within the first three minutes. Becky always knew what to say.

Becky shook her head and stepped away with a shrug. “I would, but I’m about to head to work. Come by the diner for lunch, Henry. Right next door. Best double cheeseburger and milkshake you’ve ever eaten. The cakes are pretty good, too. See you later!”

She’d turn Becky into ground beef for this.

Alone with Grayson.

It was difficult for Juliana to iron out her feelings. Runaway and hide? Smile and pray that the movie star didn’t notice that she had the flirting skills of a seventh-grader?

Grayson leaned back as Mrs. Latham delivered his coffee, complete in a red mug with a candy cane handle. The front-row seat of the last long note of the Rudolph song was an extra treat they both received.

He waited for Mrs. Latham to leave. His blue eyes mesmerized her when they locked with hers. Why did boys always end up with such pretty eyelashes? And lips? His full lips looked soft.

“Do you mind, Juliana?”

“Mind what?”

A corner of his lips tilted up. “Do you mind showing me around?”

She had to ask him the big, obvious question. “Why are you here?”

He sipped his coffee, looking around the coffee shop. “I told you before that Statem sounded familiar. My agent, Trevor, had mentioned the town. His sister lives here now. We made the connection.” He shrugged. “I had a couple weeks off, so I thought I’d come to visit.”

“So, you came to visit Trevor’s sister?” Who would be that close to Grayson Moore and not scream it all over town?

“No.” He leaned his elbows on the table, his eyes locked with hers, refusing to let go. His voice lowered to a deep, quiet tone. “I came here to see you.”

Her brain ceased all functions.

He came to see her? No. She had to have misheard him.

She swallowed wrong and began coughing. “Sorry,” she squeaked out and reached for her cup, but it was empty.

“Here,” he said, passing her his cup. Reluctantly, she took it, taking the smallest sip possible to help clear her throat.

“Who’s Trevor’s sister? How did you get here?”

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