Third-person pov
Michael kept his gaze fixed on Georgia as his eyes searched her face for any hint of a change in her expression.
The question she had asked caught him off guard, and even though he knew he could have easily deflected or laughed it off, something about the way she asked made him realize that he needed to be straightforward with her.
He didn’t want to mislead her, didn’t want to give her any illusions about where they stood—or, more importantly, where they didn’t stand.
He cared about Georgia; that much was true. In fact, he cared about her more than he had ever cared about any other woman who wasn’t his mother.
She was smart, silly, beautiful, and had a way of making him feel at ease, a way of drawing him out of the shadows he often found himself in, but that didn’t
