He was bracing himself when Mia slid her hand into his and smiled up at him. “I’ve got you, too.”

They were just four simple words. But they instantly changed everything.

* * *

Mia knew there had to be a family resemblance between Ford and his parents, but she honestly couldn’t see it. They were so starched-up and pinched looking, whereas he was so comfortable in his skin.

“Catherine. Lance. This is Mia Sullivan.” He didn’t say he was glad to see them, and neither did they to him.

“Hello.” She reached out to shake their hands, even though they hadn’t yet offered them.

They didn’t leave her hanging, but they didn’t look particularly impressed with her, either, in her cute little dress with her hair up in a ponytail and artsy cut-glass earrings on instead of pearls or diamonds. She was sure they still had dreams of seeing their son with a perfectly bred girl from the Junior League, not a woman like her who had grown up in a middle-class family...and who had begged their son just hours ago to let her have at his glorious erection.

His mother turned cool eyes back to him. “How are you, Rutherford?”

God, Mia thought, it was like watching distant acquaintances meeting on the street who felt they needed to exchange pleasantries. She squeezed Ford’s hand to remind him that he wasn’t in this alone.

He smiled down at her, and she was glad to see the spark leap in his dark eyes before he turned back to his mother. “Everything is great, thanks. What about you guys?”

His father’s brows came down over his eyes at the casual way Ford spoke to them. Clearly, Lance Vincent had been bred and trained for another kind of response entirely. “We are well, thank you. Seattle has become quite the art scene, and we’re here to solidify a few acquisitions for your mother’s gallery.” He looked slightly uncomfortable as he added, “This meeting is extremely fortuitous, as one of our main local investors has informed us that he enjoys your music. I’m sure he would like to meet you, if you would come inside with us.”

“We’ve got a pizza waiting for us. But tell your friend I’m glad he’s digging my music.”

Ford’s mother finally reached out to touch her son on the arm. There was nothing motherly about it, especially since the way her nails sank into his skin showed that she was feeling more irritated with him than anything else. “You are here now and we leave tomorrow evening. Surely your pizza can wait a few minutes.”

Before Mia could think better of it, she asked, “You’re here in Seattle to meet with investors, but you’re not even staying a little longer to see the final show of your son’s latest world tour?”

“We have obligations. Besides, we’re not fans of his kind of music,” his mother said, as if that explained everything.

“No?” Mia’s voice was deceptively gentle. “What music do you like?”

“Rutherford’s father and I are on the board of the Boston Lyric Opera and the Boston Symphony Orchestra.”

“Surely, despite that, your obligations can wait another day so that you can see his show.”

His mother made a sour face, at least as much as she could, given how badly her Botox injections had frozen her expression to one of almost perfect blankness. “Lance and I find it so difficult to listen to all that screeching and hammering. Rutherford had such talent when he was young. He could have been a classical musician. He could have been a respected composer if only he had put his mind to it instead of fooling around with that electric guitar.”

“Fooling around? He could have been respected? Screeching and hammering?”

Rage was nearly knocking Mia flat on the sidewalk. Only Ford’s hand on hers kept her from going over. Maybe, Mia had the barest amount of remaining clarity of mind to think, Ford would be happier with continuing not to engage with his parents, but she’d been raised to say what she thought. And if this was going to be her only chance to lay into them, by God, she was going to take it.

Because she thought his parents sucked.

“Your son is one of the most incredible people I’ve ever met. He not only has more talent in his little finger than any of the proper musicians that you obviously revere, but far more important than that, he’s also one of the kindest, funniest, most wonderful men I’ve ever known. Which is even more impressive, now that I’ve met both of you.” She sneered at them, not caring what they thought about her attacking them, because clearly, their opinions didn’t count. “I used to think it was sad that you weren’t bragging about him to your friends, but now I’m glad you don’t, because neither of you deserve to call him son. And,” she needed to add before they could completely edge away from her and into the restaurant, “his name isn’t Rutherford. It’s Ford.”

His parents gaped at her in outrage, but she was done with them. Ford was staring at her, too, his expression unreadable as she tugged him away from two people she was this close to slugging.

* * *

Mia was so furious that she had no idea a crowd had formed about them as she’d told Ford’s parents exactly what she thought of them. He’d seen recognition in at least a dozen strangers’ eyes as they headed down the sidewalk and into the hole-in-the-wall pizza joint, but Mia was so obviously driven to keep them moving that no one tried to intercept them.

He could still feel her bristling as he paid for their pizza, then hailed a cab to take them to his place. She was uncharacteristically silent as she stewed over the unexpected meeting, but she never once let go of his hand. And even while he paid the driver, she waited on the seat beside him so that they could both get out of the cab without needing to let go of each other.

Once they were inside, he put the pizza box down on the kitchen counter and pulled her against him. “Have I mentioned recently that you blow my mind?”

Normally, he knew, she would have come back with a joke about having “blown” another part of him that morning. But tonight she simply looked up at him and said, “I heard everything you said about them, but I guess I didn’t really want to believe it. I wanted to think that maybe one day I could bring you back together to become a real, loving family.” She blew out a hard breath. “Instead, when I realized how far off base I really was, I yelled at them in the middle of the sidewalk.” Her expression hardened again. “Which they totally deserved. But still. I didn’t check with you first, I just let loose. I’m sorry, Ford, for not being able to help mys—”