I hold my breath as Grayson pulls out his chair and sits. He's wearing his leather jacket with dark denim jeans and a green button-down shirt that makes his eyes pop. His hair is once again messy, probably a result of being windblown from riding his motorcycle. I bet his hair is soft - it looks soft.

"Morning." He grins, and my traitorous heart beats double time.

"Run anyone over this morning?" I pray my voice doesn't betray me the way my heart does. ...