And you know what makes me even madder than a cat being baptized? Nash Allen has a breathtaking smile. It’s rare. It’s beautiful. It’s bright. It reaches his eyes like a comet across the sky, and he goes from forty-something to a young golden god with tan skin and sexy, cropped, brown hair kissed by the sun. His beard is dark and neatly trimmed, framing his full lips that are almost pouty, but he’d never sulk. No, apparently, he’s brutal and menacing and covered in black ink… And his eyes? Call it.
