Page 39 of The Forces of Love

Mitch had expected Sophie to disappear soon after his dad left for work, but an hour had passed, and she was still there, curled up next to him on the couch, fitting perfectly into the space as no one ever had or might again.

“Your dad seems really cool.”

“He is. When he’s not being overprotective.”

“You’re one to talk.”

“What? Excuse you. I’m not as bad as he is.”

“You’re worse.” She chuckled. “Saving him leftovers, reminding him about his meds, checking that his phone is charged? It’s sweet.”

“He’s sacrificed a lot for me. So I like doing little things for him. It’s family, you know? And he has this habit of forgetting about himself, so I kind of pick up the slack. It works.”

Sophie laid her head on his shoulder. “My mom never slept in. On weekends, I’d wake up to the sound of her singing in the kitchen. When Dad left, she stopped. Stopped singing, stopped getting up early, stopped smiling. It was awful.”

Sophie pulled in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “So I set an alarm. I’d drag myself out of bed and put her favorite music on while I made breakfast. More often than not, I burned it, and the kitchen was always a disaster, but it was worth it to see her smile.” She cleared her throat. “So yeah, I get it. Sometimes parents need looking after too. He’s lucky he has you.”

Her hand was warm on his thigh, and he placed his own over it, threading their fingers together. “We’re both lucky. With Mom, everything had to be done right now, the right way. Socks paired, pants ironed, everything put back exactly where it belonged. It stressed her out. And she had this habit of taking over if she didn’t think I was doing it right. Kind of made me a little sensitive to being told what to do.”

“Or when someone talks down to you.” Sophie cringed. “Like when you started. Shit, Mitch, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. I shouldn’t have treated you like that.”

Her eyes swam with raw concern. He’d bet money that she was unaware of how much emotion shone through in her expressions. And unless he wanted a swift boot to the ass (and not in a sexy, you be the drill sergeant kind of way), he’d keep that observation to himself. At least a little while longer.

“You’re forgiven.” He pressed a kiss to her hair, the braids now pulled free, and breathed her in. Reveled in the peace of the moment. “As you can see, Dad’s way more laid back. It’s nice, but he’ll forget little things, groceries, his meds, any phone number that isn’t mine.”

“All the stuff you take care of.”

“He remembers the important stuff.”

Sophie leaned over him and picked up his guitar from where he’d propped it at the end of the couch. Gently, she stroked the body with one hand while the other naturally found its way to the neck.

Fuck, if that wasn’t one of the most beautiful views in the world. He desperately wanted a photo.

“You play really well. Could you show me something?”

Mitch nodded, then arranged them so she was perched on the edge of the cushion and he sat behind her. “Easier to teach you this way,” he whispered against her ear.

“Uh-huh.”

The soft skin of her neck was too enticing to resist, but he only got one kiss in before she turned to glare at him. Shit, she was cute.

“We’ll start with the lick. You’re going to”— he arranged his fingers on the fretboard, then paused a beat while she laid her hand over his— “slide from seven to nine on the G string,”

Sophie snorted, and it took all of Mitch’s willpower to hold back from kissing her. Her dirty mind was trouble with a capital T.

“Pay attention,” he whispered into her ear.

A shiver was her only response.Point to Langford.

“After that, you’ll hit twice on the eight of the B string, which is the root.” How had he never noticed how dirty guitar was before? “Then you’ll hammer on the ten and bend it up a step.”

They were close enough for Mitch to hear the hitch in her breathing.

“You’re doing this on purpose,” she said, punctuating it with a slow grind against him.

Mitch had been called a lot of things, but a saint had never been one of them. “I’m really not,” he said, which was true. But also, the choice between Sophie and his guitar was hardly a choice at all.

“Is the lesson over?”

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