He looked at her. His eyes were light brown, so soft. Why couldn’t she love him? Maybe she could. She leaned toward him, giving in—to what she did not know. But he pulled away from her. “I’ve wanted to kiss you for months now,” he said. Joan opened her eyes. “But not when you’re drunk.” “But I want to,” Joan said. “Right now, I want to. And I may not want to tomorrow.” Griff smiled, but his eyes were sad. She could see that. “Then we shouldn’t,” Griff said.
