would be a double mission for him — get the information and get the woman he couldn’t stop thinking about to come back to him — and more importantly, get her to come back to his bed.
He packed in about ten minutes, knowing he might be on the computer for a while and he’d then forget to pack clothes. He then went straight to his state-of-the-art system and got to work. He wasn’t going to get much sleep for the next thirty-six hours before his flight, but that was okay. Maybe he could catch up on the eight-hour flight — and maybe, just maybe, he’d have Erin at his side to help him with that.
If Brackish could get a job done and get the girl, he’d call the mission a total success. He was hoping for that and a whole lot more. He wasn’t sure why, but he liked this woman, and he wanted more from her. He wanted more from himself, as well. Maybe he was growing up — finally. Maybe Joseph Anderson was right about love and family. Maybe Brackish could have it all just as a man he was beginning to seriously admire had it all and so much more.
Chapter Sixteen
Erin was miserable — absolutely, positively, ridiculously miserable. From the time she’d been a little girl, she’d been as stubborn as hell. She’d once been told by her grandmother that she was the epitome of the child who chose to cut off her nose to spite her face.
Of course, when she’d said that Erin had stuck out her tongue, and said, “am not,” with a smirk. She’d instantly regretted that when her grandmother had pulled her hair then chased her around the house smacking her behind with a broom. She’d learned quickly not to smart off to her grandma.
When she’d lost her grandparents, it had taken Erin many months to not expect her grandmother to walk through the front door with an armful of fresh flowers from her garden. Erin still teared up when she thought about the grandparents who’d been such a huge part of her life and had finished raising her.
Both of her grandparents had expected and demanded respect, but they’d also given love, values, and rewards as they’d raised her. She missed them. When she was being foolish, it made her miss them even more.
It had been weeks since she’d seen Steve — and it was all her fault. There was no doubt she’d messed up. She’d completely overreacted to the videos. After she’d thought about it, she’d realized he wasn’t the type of man who’d do something so underhanded. Even knowing all of this she couldn’t seem to get her head out of her butt and talk to him about it.
She’d finally called him the day before, telling herself she was going to apologize and ask if she could see him again. But her pride and stubbornness hadn’t allowed her to do it. Instead she’d told him she wanted to thank him for getting her to the hospital so quickly, and to tell him she was doing much better. He’d seemed a bit reserved on the call, but he’d answered on the second ring. Even if she was playing stupid games, he wasn’t.
“Call him again,” she muttered to herself.
“What was that, dear?” Mr. Melville, a regular customer, asked from the end of the counter.
“I’m just talking to myself,” she said, giving him a sheepish smile before she grabbed the coffee pot and walked over to refill his cup. “Do you want anything else?” He shook his head.
He had to be in his eighties, and he often spent from midnight to two in the morning with her. He’d lost his wife three years earlier and had told her he couldn’t stand to be in the house those hours as they’d always fallen asleep early on the couch watching the evening news, and then had woken up like clockwork at midnight and had gone to the kitchen for a cup of decaf coffee and a slice of pie. So he came to her diner and did that with Erin now. He usually had a puzzle book or a seventy-five-piece puzzle on the counter. He was there far more often than not. She worried if he was gone a few days in a row.
“You better be careful if you’re already talking to yourself,” he told her with a chuckle. “I didn’t start that until my late sixties.”
“If I don’t talk to myself I get too lonely,”