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Brock set his napkin on top of the table. He needed a minute to think, a timeout where he could breathe and gather his wits. “Excuse me. I’m going to use the restroom.”
ChapterNine
Erin watchedBrock walk away from the table, admiring his loose-limbed gait. Physically, he exemplified her ideal type. Around six feet, he wasn’t too tall or too short. He had that casual manly style totally down pat in his faded jeans and quarter zip sweater. And those eyes. A weathered blue that reminded her of the ocean during a storm.
Pawpaw said her name, drew her attention back to the table and away from Brock’s backside.
“My grandson is a complicated man.”
“Yes, I can tell.”
“His mama did a number on him. He doesn’t trust easily.”
Erin leaned back against the booth, her appetite gone. “Parents have a special way of screwing up their kids.”
“That’s certainly true. I did a number on mine before I quit drinking.”
She heard the regret in his voice, saw it in the lines fanning his eyes. “I’m sure you did the best you could.”
“Even after I got sober, we barely scraped by. Working odd jobs, I could hardly put food on the table and keep a roof over our heads. Unfortunately, my kids didn’t end up much better.”
“At some point, everyone has to take responsibility for their own lives and stop blaming their parents. Trust me, I milked the poor-me routine for far too long.”
“You’re stronger than most if you’ve realized that at your age.”
“My grandmother set a heck of an example. She doesn’t suffer fools—or so-called victims—lightly.”
“I’d like to meet your grandmother.”
“I have a feeling you’d like her. Most people do.”
“I like her granddaughter.” He lifted a thumb over his shoulder toward the restrooms. “That boy credits me for his success, but it’s all him. Brock’s the one who broke the chain. He used his sharp mind to create a curriculum for beating addiction that’s helped thousands of people break their dependence—and not just to alcohol.”
“He’s very impressive.”
Ben lifted his brows and stared at her, reminding her of Brock. “Not so bad to look at, either.”
“No,” she chuckled, her face flaring hot. “He’s not.”
“Can’t imagine why he wouldn’t turn the head of a pretty girl like you.”
“Ben, your grandson is very attractive. He’s charming too, whenever he drops his guard long enough to relax and be himself.”
“I sense a ‘but’ coming.”
“But …” She glanced toward the bathrooms, made sure the coast was clear. “I know his work ethic and his reputation. I’ve had my fill of workaholics who put their careers above everything else.”
“Maybe he’s never met someone who made him want to slow down.”
“In my admittedly limited experience, that propensity doesn’t change. Once a workaholic, always a workaholic. It’s an addiction all its own.”
“Men can change, Erin. Even stubborn men like Brock. My Ginny stayed with me, prayed for me longer than I deserved. A good woman can change a hardheaded man.”
“She sounds like a lovely woman.”
“She was the absolute best.”
Brock emerged from the restroom and made his way back to the table. Erin picked up her slice and took another bite, praying their conversation wasn’t written all over her face.
