He knew if he looked into her clear-as-an-Alabama-blue-sky-day eyes even for a split second, that it didn’t matter how shitty the lighting was in that club, she’d be able to read him. He’d done his best to be as unreadable as possible over the years when it came to how he felt about her, how he really felt about her—and for some reason, at that moment, his mask had slipped free.
