to protect her mom, who happened to be a church secretary, and her grandma, who worked at city hall, from her scandal, she’d have to get out of Brighton Valley quickly.
Trouble was, Juliana had just moved into a nicer place near La Galleria in Wexler, and when she’d decided to leave town, she’d had to use her savings to get out of her lease. So she didn’t have enough left to move to the city, especially since she didn’t have another job lined up yet. And with a baby due in five months...well, she was strapped right now.
As she refilled the coffee of the lone diner at table three, an elderly gentleman with thinning hair, she caught a whiff of greasy sausage swimming in the runny egg yolks on his plate. Her tummy swirled like a mop in a slop bucket, and for a moment she thought she’d have to have to run to the restroom.
She blinked her eyes and swallowed as the brief bout of nausea passed.
For the most part, the morning sickness that had plagued her for nearly six weeks straight had ended. But there were still a few random moments, like this one, when she wasn’t so sure...
“Thanks, hon,” the diner said. “I don’t s’pose you have any of those caramel cinnamon rolls left, do you? Margie said they were made special yesterday, and I was hopin’ to have me another today.”
“I’ll check and see. If they’re gone, I can get you one of the oatmeal spice muffins.”
“Sure, that’ll do.”
Juliana had no more than turned from the table when the bell on the front door jangled, alerting her to a customer’s entrance. She didn’t normally give the arrivals much notice because Margie, the other waitress, was quick to greet the many diners who flocked to Caroline’s for the food as well as the local gossip.
And the news that passed quickly from one person to the next, helped along by Margie, was another reason this was a bad place for Juliana to work if she didn’t want to bring any undue embarrassment upon Mom and Grandma.
But for some reason, Juliana glanced at the doorway now, only to note a stranger. Well, not exactly a stranger, but a face she hadn’t seen in years.
Jason Rayburn—who else could it be?—had grown up and filled out in the manliest way.
He was tall—six foot or more—with dark hair that was stylishly mussed. Even though she’d heard the wealthy exec was staying in Brighton Valley, she hadn’t expected to see him dressed in faded denim and a chambray shirt. It almost made him appear to fit right in, when he was as far from one of the locals as a man could be.
She’d followed his success and found him somewhat intriguing. Actually, the entire Rayburn family was pretty newsworthy around here—including both Carly and Braden. Maybe that’s why folks found them interesting. They had the same father, but they couldn’t be any more different.
She knew Carly and Braden well. Jason, though, was more of a lone wolf. A wealthy and successful one, from what she’d heard.
He’d gone into business with his father right after college. And he’d rarely come back, except for Granny Rayburn’s funeral. But he’d left town nearly as quickly as he’d come in.
He scanned the small diner. When his eyes zeroed in on her, a smile stretched across his handsome face, creating a pair of dimples and sparking a glimmer in his green eyes.
As he sauntered toward her, as lean as a cowboy and as cocky as a man used to staking his claim on just about anything he had a mind to, she nearly dropped the coffee carafe.
“Well,” he said, flashing a boyish grin and sending her heart rate topsy-turvy, “if it isn’t Bird Legs.”
She couldn’t help but return his smile. “If I remember correctly, I threw a rock at you the last time you called me that.”
“Yes, you did. I’d been bad-mouthing my brother, Braden, and you felt the need to stick up for him. And if I recall, you missed me by a mile.”
“That’s true, but I scared your horse.”
“Thankfully, I’m a good rider.”
That he was, although the mare had gotten skittish and Juliana had been sure he was going to get thrown. But she hadn’t liked him picking on Braden, who’d been her friend and sometime riding buddy.
She lifted the glass carafe, which bore more brown stain than coffee. “I’m brewing a new pot. If you’d like to grab a seat, I can pour you a fresh cup.”
“Sounds good. Thanks. Which tables are yours?”
He wanted her to be his waitress? Okay. Why not? She nodded toward the yellow-gingham curtains. “Any of those by the window.”
“All right.”
She retrieved a menu, as well as a fresh pot of coffee, and took them to him. “Here you go.” After upturning the white mug on the table in front of him, she filled it. “Cream or sugar?”
“Just black.”
“Okay. I’ll give you a minute to decide what you’d like, then I’ll come back.”
“Thanks. It won’t take me long.”
She felt his eyes on her back as she returned the carafe to where it belonged. Yet she feared there was more heat radiating from his stare than the coffee warmer.
Margie, who’d worked at the diner for as long as Juliana could remember, sidled up next to her and snatched the carafe labeled decaf. “Isn’t that Jason Rayburn?”
“Yes, it is. I talked to Carly not long ago, and she said he’s staying out at the Leaning R while he’s getting it ready to sell.”
“That’s what I heard.” Margie was up on all the local gossip, whether it was accurate or not. “But he’s grown up since I last seen him, so I hardly recognized him. He doesn’t favor Braden much, does he? But he does have the look of a womanizer.”
“Why do you say that?” Juliana asked.
“Looks too much like his daddy to not be. And you know what they say. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”
Charles Rayburn had grown up on the Leaning R with his paternal grandparents, but it had been his maternal grandfather who’d paid for his college and who’d set him up in business. At that point, he’d pretty much left Brighton Valley in the dust. Or so they said.
“I’d better get his order.” Juliana stepped away from Margie and made her way back to where Jason sat near the window.
The morning sun cast a glare on the dull brown Formica tabletop, but it had nothing on the sunny smile Jason tossed her way when she asked, “What’ll it be?”
“Huevos rancheros. I haven’t had that in ages.”
“You got it.” But instead of turning and walking away, she took a moment to bask in the glimmer of those meadow-green eyes. What color would a city girl call them?
Enough of that now. She had to get over her fixation on a palette of colors ready to spring to life on a blank canvas. She’d have to postpone her dream
