Page 64 of Trying Sophie

Colm’s statement rankled. I’d never been accused of being a feminist, but I didn’t like the way he was talking about her, like she was some wild pony that needed to be broken. Her spirit was one of the things I liked most. I hated the idea of some other man thinking otherwise.

“What sort of fellow did you have in mind?” I asked cautiously, holding my breath as I waited for his answer.

After what seemed like forever, Colm quit stirring the pot and turned to face me. “I thought I’d made that clear, son.”

His eyes held nothing but kindness and I felt his belief in me to my core. Funny since my actual family didn’t think I was capable of being anything more than I’d been. Then again, I hadn’t confided in them how tired I was of it all. How much I hated the man I’d become. Colm though, he knew what was in my heart.

“By the way you were talking just now, I wasn’t sure if something had changed,” I answered honestly.

“You’d challenge her,” he said thoughtfully. “And I think you can make her happy while she’s here. She deserves it. Despite what others might say, you do too.”

If I were in his position, unlike him, I’d have told me not to even think about touching someone as precious as Sophie.

“Thank you, sir. I appreciate that.”

“You should probably get upstairs and say hello, shouldn’t you?” Maureen prodded.

“Yes, ma’am.” Feeling the need to say more, I added, “I hope I don’t let you down.”

“Don’t let yourself down,” she answered and I flinched, because we all knew there was a good chance that’s exactly what I’d do.

“Knock knock,” I said, rapping the doorway with my knuckles.

“Oh, hey,” Sophie said, her head popping up in surprise. She closed her computer, straightened her papers, and moved to the sink.

Having been in this room countless times before, I’d never given the space much thought. But seeing Sophie at the small round table, her laptop open and papers spread all around her, made it look more inviting. Like I could pull up a chair and sit awhile, just watch her work, and absorb the nearness of her. Looking at her bathed in a halo of late afternoon light, my heart tightened with longing. I had to bite my tongue to keep myself from telling her.

“I hope you don’t mind I’m here,” I said.

I couldn’t get a read on her and that made me nervous.

“No, of course not,” she answered with a smile that felt like a punch to the solar plexus. “From what my grandpa says, you’ve probably spent more time here than I have. Have a seat,” she indicated the chair across from where she’d sat.

I turned it toward me and straddled the seat. Resting my arms across its back, I laid my chin on my forearms, my eyes lingering on her a bit longer than polite.

Fidgeting nervously under my scrutiny, she swiped at her mouth. “What?” she asked. “Do I have ketchup on me? I have a habit of getting things all over my face when I see you.”

Even though I knew she was talking about the day she’d accidentally rubbed lipstick samples all over her cheeks, I had to stifle a groan. The dirty, filthy visual she’d just called to mind had my dick jumping for joy.

“Oh god, I do, don’t I?” She turned and scrubbed at her cheeks with a wet sponge.

“Relax Sophie,” I told her when I heard her whisper, “fuck, fuck, fuck.” “You don’t have anything on your face.”

“Well, it took you long enough to say so.” She shot a dirty look over her shoulder, huffed, and grabbed a towel from the rack before coming back to the table to scowl down at me.

“What?” I asked innocently, shoulders and palms up.

“I feel like I’m eight years old again and you’re laughing at me.”

“I’m not laughing at you,” I assured her, the husky timbre of my voice belying the calm exterior I was trying to project. “I’m picturing something very, very serious. Something that would make me moan.”

She sucked in a short breath and looked away. When she bit the tip of her thumbnail, with my earlier thought still fresh, the sight of her lips pursed around her finger did very bad things to me. I shifted in my seat to ease ache, trying not to picture her pillowy lips wrapped snugly around my cock.

She turned back with a steel glint in her eye. “You can’t say those things to me,” she whispered, her words meant to be more forceful than they’d come out.

“What sort of things?”

I wanted to see if I could make her blush.

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