BROCK SLID his suits into his bag, adding a few pairs of underwear and some socks. Four shirts and his swimming trunks and he was basically packed for the short business trip he had to go on. He checked his briefcase: the Trussle file, the Branson file, the… wait, where were the Pruitt file and the catalog mock-up?
He growled and searched his bedroom, then the dining room and the kitchen. No luck. Fuck.
He could hear Eric in the bathroom, showering with Mark’s help, the stitches finally removed. Had he had the files in the bathroom? He’d check in there after Eric was done.
“Daddy Bee!” Josie came out of her room, waving brightly colored papers in one hand, the nanny packing to go for the day. “I drawed for you!”
“You did?” He could plaster the walls with the pictures Josie’d done for him, but he always made sure she felt like that latest ones were the best. “Let me see.”
She handed the papers over, telling him about what was on there, but he didn’t hear her.
His file.
His file, covered in crayon.
“What did you do? Damn it, Josie, you’ve ruined my work!”
Her flow of words stopped, eyes staring up at him. “I drawed.”
“On my files!” He grabbed them from her and shook them in front of her face. “This is important and you’ve ruined it!”
Those big eyes filled with tears and she stumbled back. “Daddy….”
“Sir?” The nanny walked out. “Is something wrong?”
He shook the files in the nanny’s face. “What’s wrong with you? Couldn’t you see these were important papers? How could you let her have them?”
“Daddy!” Josie ran to the bathroom door, little fists pounding on it. “Daddy! Daddy!”
“Oh, God. I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t notice. I was cleaning up.”
The bathroom door opened, Eric’s red-cheeked face appearing. “Josie?”
“Daddy!” She pushed in, clinging to his leg and sobbing.
Guilt warred with anger and he flung the files down, striding off before he yelled again.
It didn’t take but a few minutes before Eric was there in a bathrobe, holding a sniffling little girl’s hand. “What do you say, Jo?”
“S… s… sorry.”
“And?”
“I p’omise. No draws on papers at Bee’s house. No more.” The tears started again, Josie’s thumb going in her mouth.
“I’m sorry, too, Brock. Can I pay to have more copies delivered somewhere?”
He rubbed his face. God, he was the biggest heel in the fucking world, making that sweet girl cry. “Don’t be stupid. I’ll call Stephanie—I’m sure she’s got copies. It’s okay, Josie. As long as you don’t do it again.”
She shook her head, hiding behind Eric’s legs.
“She won’t. We’ve talked. I’m sorry; I should have kept a closer eye.” Right. Because after getting seventy some-odd stitches out of his chest, Eric was feeling fabulous.
“I shouldn’t have yelled, I just….” He rubbed the back of his neck. He was more stressed than usual over this trip; he wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t anything complicated or unusual.
“It’s cool, Brock. Josie, go get a book and sit on your bed. I’ll read to you in a minute.”
The little dark head bobbed, then big black eyes stared at him a second. “No draws. No more. Josie is a good girl.” Then she ran back down the hall.
“What can I do to help, man?”
“I don’t know—is there anything to get this horrible guilty feeling to go away?” Those dark eyes were lethal.
“Not that I know of.” Eric winked at him, then sighed. “I am sorry. She didn’t mean to ruin them. She’s just too young to understand.”
“I know. I just reacted. Does she hate me now?”
“No. She’s afraid you’ll never love her again.”
“Oh, baby, I was mad at her for ruining the files, I never stopped caring about her.”
“I know that, turkey, but I’m not three.”
“Right.” Man, this dealing with kids thing was hard. He really admired Eric for his stamina and patience, for doing it all on his own. “Should I go talk to her?” And whoa; he was more worried about whether or not Josie was upset than he was about getting his file replaced before he headed to the airport.
“She’d love that, but if you don’t want to, I understand.”
“I don’t want her to think I hate her.”
He made himself stop and call Stephanie first, arranging to have the file delivered to his hotel room by 8:00 a.m. Then he pocketed his cell phone and headed for Josie’s room, feeling like the big bad wolf.
Josie was in her room, holding her baby doll and sniffling, rocking it back and forth. When he walked in, she shook her head. “No draw. Holding baby! Josie is a good girl!”
He crouched down in front of her. “I can see that. Look, what you did was wrong, but I’m sorry I yelled at you. I’m sorry.”
“I sorry. No more draws at Bee’s house, ’kay?” The tears started again, and she hugged her baby tighter.
She was just about going to kill him with those tears. “Oh, honey, you can still draw. Just ask first, okay? When I get back from my trip, I’ll buy you some paper just for drawing on, okay?” Please stop crying.
“Josie paper? Just for me?” She scooted closer, reached for him with one hand. “Bee goes bye-bye?”
He gathered her up and sat on the bed with her in his arms. “Yeah. I have a business meeting. I have to catch a plane in a couple of hours. It’s not for long, and when I get back I promise to get special Josie paper—just for you.”
She was stiff for about three seconds, then she cuddled in, holding on tight. “No be mad, Daddy Bee. Please. Come home.”
“I’m not going away because I’m mad, honey. I have to talk to some men about money. I’m not mad, I promise.”
“Love you.” The words were sure, fingers clutching his shirt.
He held her tight. “I love you, too,” he whispered.
She nodded, then kissed his cheek. “Daddy Bee.”
“Yeah.”
Was it wrong of him to hope that they never caught that last kidnapper, so he had an excuse to keep Eric and Josie here indefinitely?
He looked over her head at Eric, who stood in the doorway watching them, lean and tousled and fine.
It didn’t matter; he could come up with another excuse.