Stay with Me (With Me in Seattle 9)

“And the best part is, your name isn’t anywhere on it,” Jules agrees as she slips her hand into her husband’s, linking their fingers. “You can stay here as long as you need to.”

“You’ve bought me furniture,” I point out, still in awe as men carry couches, tables, and beds up the stairs. “This is insane.”

“It was empty because Brynna and Caleb moved out,” Jules says with a frown. “You can’t sleep on the floor.”

“You bought me furniture,” I repeat as if she didn’t hear me.

“You’re family,” Jules says. “So there’s really nothing else to discuss. Do you want me to have one of Nate’s minions bring in groceries?”

“His minions?” I raise a brow, and Jules laughs.

“Inside joke,” she says and smiles up at her husband.

“I can make a call,” Nate says, but I shake my head no.

“I can call Uber Eats for that, or order with any grocery store and pick it up. The internet is a beautiful thing.”

“You’re sure? Nate has people.” Jules tilts her head, watching me with our signature Montgomery blue eyes.

“Me, too.” I hold up my phone for them to see and smile. “Really, I’m great. This is so great.” I feel tears threaten, but before they can fall, Jules wraps me up in her slim arms and holds me close.

“I’m so happy you’re here. Take time to settle in. Luke’s already called to have the internet hooked back up, and the Wi-Fi info is on the kitchen counter.” She backs away and bites her lip as she looks around. “I think that’s it, but if you need anything, just call. We’re not far, and Luke’s right up the street.”

“Where’s Natalie?”

“Oh, she’s around too, but she had a baby about six weeks ago, so Luke keeps her tucked away.” Jules rolls her eyes, and Nate just grins. “Luke’s a little protective.”

“That’s kind of sweet.”

“It’s their fourth baby, Lia.” Jules shakes her head. “He’s turned her into a baby factory.”

“They’re quite happy,” Nate says and then leans in to kiss Jules’ cheek. “And Luke insists they’re finished at four children.”

“Four kids?” I ask. How in the world did I not know that they now have four kids? “Wow, I guess I haven’t been home in a while.”

And that just makes me sad, and angry at Vinnie all over again. I wanted to move home years ago, and he wasn’t having it.

“You haven’t,” Jules says. “But you’re home now, and I hope we get to see plenty of you.”

“That would be great.”

“We should let her get settled,” Nate says. “Here are the keys to Julianne’s little red Lexus.”

“You do not have to give me your car,” I insist. “I can rent one.”

“It’s really no biggie,” Jules says. “I don’t use the Lexus much anymore because it’s too small for Stella’s booster seat. It should get driven.”

“Thank you. And thanks for letting me crash at your condo for a couple of days.”

“It was our pleasure,” Jules replies. “But you’ll be happier here. It’s hard to live with kids that aren’t yours.”

“Stella is beautiful.”

“And a handful.” Nate shrugs. “She’s four.”

We walk toward the door, and Nate stops and looks down at me. The man is tall.

“Lock this door, Lia. Always.”

“I will.” He’s so intense.

“And set the alarm.”

“Yes, sir.” I smirk up at him, and he just smiles.

“Typical Montgomery woman, aren’t you? Sarcastic as hell.”

“Thank you.” I drop into a curtsey and make them both laugh. “Don’t worry, I’ll lock up. But I think I’m fairly safe here.”

“You are,” Jules says as she waves and they leave, walking out to their black Mercedes SUV. The Lexus is parked in front of them, gleaming in the warm summer sunshine. It’s going to be a pleasure to drive that little convertible around town. It takes the sting out of missing my own Mercedes in L.A.

I wave them off and walk back inside, obediently locking the door behind me. I guess if I have to be away from home for an unknown length of time, this isn’t a bad place to do it in. It’s great to be back in Seattle, where I know my family is just a phone call away if I need them.

Jules and Nate didn’t have to buy this furniture. I could have done that, but they wanted to, and now I don’t know how I’ll repay them.

Not that they want me to repay them.

I shake my head and walk up the stairs to my bedroom. It has a killer view of the water and an en-suite bathroom with a long countertop, which is perfect for all of my makeup. I’ll use the other bathroom on this floor to store the deliveries that I receive and to go through and decide which products I want to try and which I want to give away.

My job is fucking amazing.

Just when I get my suitcases unpacked and stored in the guest room, the doorbell rings, and everything in me stills.

Well, everything except my heart, which is beating out of my chest.

“It’s just someone at the door,” I remind myself. “It’s probably not a process server. It’s probably just a delivery.”

Once down the stairs, I peek out a side window and find a man standing in front of the door. He’s tall, with sunglasses covering his eyes. His dark hair is long. Not as long as Nate’s, but he could use a haircut.

He’s wearing a hoodie in the colors of Seattle’s football team, and cargo shorts, which makes me frown.

If he’s cold, why is he wearing shorts?

But the most important thing is, his hands are empty.

I open the door, only wide enough for one eye to peer outside.

“Yes?”

“Hi.” He takes off his sunglasses and offers me a smile. “I’m Wyatt Crawford, your neighbor from across the way.” He points to the large, white house behind him.

“Okay.”

He tilts his head to one side. “I just saw the furniture being moved in here earlier and wanted to introduce myself.”

“Great. Thanks.” I move to shut the door, but he stops me.

“What’s your name?”

“Look, Wyatt, I don’t have any sugar or flour or extra eggs.”

“I’m not baking.”

“And I don’t want any cookies.”

“Not selling.”

“And I don’t need to find Jesus.”

“Last I checked, He wasn’t lost.”

Okay, that makes my lips twitch, but I hold firm.

“Thanks for coming over to say hi. I have stuff to do.” And with that, I shut the door and lock it. I lean my back against the wood and shut my eyes. I’m not a rude woman. But I am unnerved, and my guard is up, and I’m here alone.

Not to mention, I don’t trust men.

I peek out the side window to see Wyatt walking down the driveway toward his house, and I head back upstairs, ready to get my makeshift studio set up in the guest bedroom.

I may not trust men, but the neighbor is handsome. Not that I’m in the market for a handsome man—or any man for that matter.

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