My pulse skips a beat. “No. No, he doesn’t. Why?”

“No reason. You’re just kind of…red.”

I put a hand to my face. My skin is hot.

Well, shit. Because I’m not feeling discombobulated enough over running late to the ultrasound. Now Greyson Montgomery has to revert me into a blushing teenager with a crush.

Granted, it’s a tiny crush. I blame the lemon tree and the surprisingly self-aware Satanist jokes he made. Grits didn’t hurt, either.

Neither do the cutesy texts.

Who knew the guy had a soft side? Makes me wonder where he’s been hiding it all this time.

Why he’s been hiding it. The lit professor in me—the romance enthusiast, too—hungers for the story.

There’s definitely a story here, that I know for sure.

I also know the guy never runs late for business meetings. But he’s almost half an hour late for our first doctor’s appointment together.

Our baby’s first ultrasound.

Greyson’s eyes follow me through the windshield as I make my way down the sidewalk.

My face is on fucking fire. I’m feeling a million things, too many, too much, all at once.

I run my fingers through my hair, releasing it from behind my ears. Hoping it’ll cover the worst of the inferno.

Greyson is finishing up a call as I climb inside the truck.

“Agreed about inventory”—he cuts me a look and mouths sorry—“yep, yep, we’ll do the classics in addition to some picks that are off the beaten path…yep…hey, John, I hate to do this, but I really have to go.”

I buckle my seat belt. Greyson guides the truck into traffic.

“Right. Sounds good. Okay. Thanks.” He hangs up and tosses his phone onto the dashboard. Blows out a breath. “Sorry. So sorry I’m late. Got stuck at lunch with one of our biggest investors. Then I got stuck on that fucking call for an hour. We’re partnering with a local sommelier to open a champagne bar in NoMo, and the whole thing is turning out to be the biggest pain in the ass ever.”

I look at the clock on the dash. Look at him. “You’re half an hour late, Greyson.”

“I know, I know, and I’m really fucking sorry.” He brings his brows together. “Julia, I mean that. It won’t happen again.”

“It never happens for work-related things, does it? You being late.”

He adjusts his grip on the wheel. “I’m trying here, Julia. This juggle is new to me.”

“It’s new to me too,” I say, remembering how cool he was about me cancelling that meeting with our contractor the other night. “But this a big appointment. I’ve been looking forward to it all week. I’m going to be really upset if we have to reschedule because we’re late.”

“I’ll be upset, too. Look.” He accelerates the truck. “I’m putting the pedal to the metal. I’ll bribe the doctor if I have to so she’ll see us. We’ll get these pictures taken, come hell or high water. I promise.”