He closed the distance between them. “I have no idea what target benchmarks are, but if you keep up that sexy-as-fuck…flip teacher talk, I don’t know if we’re going to make it inside your apartment.”
She glanced at the door to her right. “Lucky for you, we’re here.”
“Lucky for you, I’m all about hitting target benchmarks, whatever they are.”
She chuckled. “I don’t know how I’m going to make it through the next faculty meeting when we discuss benchmarks.”
“Such a shame! All you’ll be thinking about is me.”
She unlocked the door then glanced over her shoulder. “Are you ready to grade some spelling tests?”
“I came prepared, Miss Quinn,” he said, pulling the red pen from his pocket.
They entered the darkened apartment, but before she could turn on a lamp, Brennen closed the door and pinned her against it with his body. He was so much bigger than she was, and every part of him, from the sharp angles of his cheekbones to his rock-solid chest, set her body on fire.
He pressed his lips to hers, and she melted into the kiss. He lifted her, and she wrapped her legs around his waist.
“Where’s the couch?”
“I’m impressed you remembered the directions.”
“I told you, I was made to volunteer.”
“Straight ahead by the window.”
The city lights glowed behind a sheer curtain as Brennen carried her to the couch. His large hands gripped her ass, and he lowered them down. He pulled off her coat then leaned forward and shrugged out of his.
She kicked off her boots. “People wear so many layers of clothes in Colorado.”
He cupped her ass in his hands. “You, Miss Quinn, seemed to forget a layer.”
Straddling him, she pulled his sweater over his head. “A T-shirt, too?”
He chuckled then pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “Hey.”
“Hey,” she replied, no longer concerned with Colorado dressing norms.
“Today was a really good day,” he said.
“The best,” she breathed, entranced with this beautiful man.
He weaved one hand into her hair and gazed into her eyes. “Abby Rose, you are breathtaking.”
She couldn’t speak. She wasn’t even sure if she was breathing.
His gaze darkened. “I’m going for all the extra credit with this next kiss.”
“It may be hard to top. You’re a pretty good kisser in helicopters and hallways.”
“Couches are my specialty. Are you ready to hit some benchmarks?”
She grinned, and he ran his thumb over her bottom lip.
“There’s my smile,” he said, giving her a whisper-soft kiss.
She sighed, her heart opening, her body aching for more. She trailed her hands up his arms, the contact sending shivers down her spine, and threaded her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck.
“Abby,” he breathed, deepening the kiss.
She arched her back, and her most sensitive place rubbed against him. With her sweater dress bunched around her waist, he guided her body back and forth.
Their kisses grew breathy and heated, each one a prelude to something sweeter and deeper. She dropped her hands and slid them beneath his T-shirt, exploring ridge after ridge of hard, lean muscle.
She rocked against him, grinding into his cock through layers of clothes, but she wanted more. Her hands traveled south and began to unbutton his pants when the front door flew open, and the lights flashed on.
“Oh my god!” came her cousin’s surprised voice.
Abby blinked, not used to the brightness. “Elle?”
“Abby, what the hell are you doing?” Elle asked, covering her eyes like a kid who walked in on her parents having sex.
Abby climbed off Brennen’s lap and smoothed her dress. “Elle, I wasn’t expecting you until next week.”
Her cousin kept her hands pressed to her eyes. “The weather turned, and we wrapped up early. I emailed you a couple of days ago.”
Stupid email!
Abby sighed. “I haven’t checked my personal email in days. I’ve been so busy with Whitmore stuff.”
Brennen put on his sweater and came to her side.
She glanced over and shared a sheepish grin with him. “Elle, you can look. We’re completely clothed.”
Elle dropped her hands and eyed Brennen warily.
Abby stepped forward. “Let me introduce you two. Elle Reynolds, this is Brennen—”
“Brennen Bergen. Yes, I know who he is, Abs,” Elle said, frostbite pricking her words.
“Have we met?” Brennen asked.
He looked genuinely confused.
Elle crossed her arms. “No, but I’ve seen you around town, and it’s hard not to notice you and all your…friends.”
Abby’s gaze swept between her cousin and Brennen as a charged silence filled the room.
“I should probably get going,” Brennen said, rubbing his hand down the length of her back.
Elle walked to the door and held it open. “Have a nice night.”
Brennen’s posture went rigid, and he gave her a forced grin.
“Hold on,” Abby said, putting a hand on Brennen’s forearm.
What the heck was Elle doing? Her cousin could be feisty, but she’d never known her to be outright rude. “I’ll walk you out, Brennen.”
She passed by Elle, giving her cousin her best what are you doing face, but Elle remained at the door like a soldier unwilling to leave her post.
Abby followed Brennen down the hallway. “I don’t know what that’s all about.”
He dropped his chin to his chest and shook his head.
She pushed up onto her tiptoes and cupped his face in her hands. “Let me talk to her. I’m sure this is a misunderstanding.”
He closed his eyes, and when he opened them, all she saw was pain. Deep, unrelenting pain.
“Abby, I’m not the guy your cousin thinks I am. I’m not the guy this entire state thinks I am.”
“I know who you are, Brennen,” she whispered, wanting nothing more than to take every drop of his pain away.
“Abs?” Elle called from down the hall. She hadn’t even closed the door.
“I need to go talk with Elle. Are you going to be all right?”
He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips, and Abby trembled, but not with excitement. While all Brennen’s kisses had felt like a new beginning, this kiss felt like goodbye.
“Good night, Abby,” he said and headed to the elevator.
She watched the doors close then turned on her heel and went back to the apartment. Her cousin was in the kitchen, pulling out bread and peanut butter.
“Do you want peanut butter toast,” Elle asked like she hadn’t just thrown a guy out of the apartment.
“No, I want to know what the hell that was?”
“Yikes, Miss Quinn! You’re not talking like a school teacher.”
“This is not a joke, Elle. I care about Brennen.”
She set the peanut butter on the counter and removed the twist tie off the loaf of bread. “Abby, I’d be happy to see you with anyone besides that guy. Do you know about him? Do you know his reputation? How’d you even get to this point with him? I thought you were all man fasting and working douchebag Tyler out of your system. And speaking of douchebags! The guy you were just dry-humping on the couch is the King of the Colorado Douche Canoes.”
Abby shook her head, her cheeks heating with frustration. “He’s not like that.”
“How do you know? How long have you even known him?”
She chewed her lip. “I met him on Monday.”
“Here, at The Dalton?” Elle asked.
“No, he’s volunteering at Whitmore for the community partnership program.”
Elle’s jaw dropped. “He’s your school volunteer, and you’re screwing him on my couch?”
“I wasn’t screwing him on the couch!”
Her cousin pulled out a s
lice of bread. “You weren’t screwing him yet.”
Abby paced the length of the kitchen. “Listen, I love you, Elle. I know you’re just looking out for me. But he’s not the person you think he is. I know what you’re talking about. I googled him. I know he seems like some kind of playboy.”
Elle dropped a slice of bread on the counter. “Some kind of playboy? His picture should be printed next to the definition of playboy in the dictionary.”
Abby stopped pacing. “Elle, he’s been so kind to me. He helped my class win a Colorado fact competition, and we just got back from Bergen Mountain.”
Elle sucked her teeth. “He took you to Bergen Mountain?”
“Yes, my principal put me in charge of planning the school ski weekend, and he brought me there to show me around.”
Elle barked out a laugh. “Let me guess. He took you up in the helicopter.”
Abby’s stomach dropped. “Yes, he did.”
Elle shook her head. “I think that’s his thing. I heard a few women chatting in the lobby about how they’d gotten to ride in the Bergen helicopter. They probably rode him while they were at it.”
The breath caught in Abby’s throat. “It’s not like that with me. With me he’s…”
“Different?” Elle supplied, raising an eyebrow.
Abby shook her head. It was different, wasn’t it? She couldn’t be reading this wrong. Brennen cared about her, right?
You thought Tyler cared about you. You thought he loved you.
She pushed the thought aside and pulled on her boots, tears welling in her eyes. “I’m going up to see him. I can’t have this discussion with you right now. I just can’t.”
She grabbed her keys and set off for the elevator. She jabbed the up button until the doors opened, and she was eye to eye with a blonde woman dressed to the nines in sky-high heels and a shiny scrap of a skirt.
“Are you going up?” the woman asked, ruby red lips glistening.
Abby stepped in the elevator. “Yes.”
The woman pulled out a compact and patted her nose. “Hmm.”
It was a quick ride one flight up. The blonde tucked her makeup back into a small clutch, exited the elevator, and headed to the only door on the twelfth floor.
The penthouse door.
Brennen’s door.
Abby stepped off the elevator and glanced around as the woman huffed it in heels down the hall. The elevator doors shut behind her, and the mechanical grind of it descending sounded too loud. The lighting in the hallway seemed too bright. Her heart rate kicked up, and a sheen of sweat materialized on her upper lip.
Why was this woman here?
Slowly, Abby took a few steps toward the door and watched as the blonde glanced over her shoulder then knocked.
The door swung open. “I was just about to text you. I’m so glad you’re here.”
Brennen froze in the doorway. He stared at the blonde then shifted his gaze down the hall.
Abby couldn’t move, a deer caught in the crosshairs.
The blonde rested her hand on Brennen’s chest. “You have been so naughty, Brennen Bergen. Did you forget we had plans? There’s a huge party downtown, and you promised me when we were up at the cottage that you’d be my date.”
Abby forced herself to breathe. Brennen said nothing, gaze locked on her as she stood frozen in the hallway.
The blonde turned. “Miss, are you lost? This is the penthouse floor. The apartments are on the lower levels.”
The elevator pinged, and Abby gasped at the sound. The doors opened, and Harvey stepped out.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Bergen. She got past me at the desk,” he said, red-cheeked.
“Your doorman is so silly, Bren! You know me,” the woman purred.
The four of them stood there like some kind of rom-com gone bad.
Brennen stepped past the woman. “I didn’t know I had plans with her, Abby.”
She held his gaze then glanced at Harvey. The man’s usual curmudgeon demeanor was replaced with a look of pity.
“Would you like me to walk you back to your apartment, Miss Quinn?” the old man asked.
“In just a moment, yes, that would be very kind of you.”
Brennen took a step toward her. “Abby, don’t go.”
She ignored him. “Miss? Excuse me, can I ask you a question?”
The blonde gazed at her nails then nodded, barely acknowledging her.
Brennen’s gaze bounced wildly between her and the woman at his door.
Abby swallowed past the lump in her throat. “Did Brennen take you to Bergen Mountain in his helicopter?”
The woman’s face lit up, and that was all the proof Abby needed.
10
Brennen
It had been two weeks. Two flipping weeks.
Brennen gripped the steering wheel of his G550, blew out a frustrated breath, and stared at the sea of cars in front of him. One main highway connected the Denver metro area to Bergen Mountain and several other neighboring ski areas, and he was square in the middle of the westbound Friday ski rush.
Today was the first day of the Whitmore ski trip, and luxury buses had left the school earlier to transport the families and teaching staff to the resort. Thanks to actually doing his job now, he was running late due to a Bergen Foundation fundraising event at the botanic gardens that had run long.
A wave of guilt and frustration washed over him knowing it might have been a good thing that he’d missed taking the Whitmore bus.
Why?
Because Abby would be on one of those buses.
After the scene in the hallway, he’d tried to speak to her. All weekend, he’d texted and left messages. He even went to her apartment, but with her cousin playing bodyguard, he hadn’t even gotten a glimpse of her.
He’d pinned all his hopes on seeing her at school.
Monday morning, he’d shown up early to learn Abby had signed up to do morning tutoring—for the rest of the school year.
At lunch, she’d volunteered for cafeteria duty.
And as far as not having to interact with him in the classroom, she’d taken care of that, too.
She had him stationed in the library, reading with children. She’d explained it was a quieter setting and more beneficial for the students. Her cool demeanor, never cruel and always professional, cut him to the core.
He’d rather see her mad and jabbing glue sticks in his chest than wearing that placid mask and pretending nothing had happened.
And her smile—the one that was just for him—had disappeared.
Traffic inched forward, and Brennen dropped his chin to his chest. The Whitmore family ski trip wasn’t just an activity for the Whitmore families. It was also a celebration of the end of the Whitmore Community Partnership Volunteer period. Now, he had no reason to report to Whitmore.
His phone rang, and he glanced at it on the console.
Jasper.
He hit the handsfree button on the steering wheel. “What did I do now?” he said, not bothering with hello.
“Nothing, that’s why I’m calling. I wanted to make sure aliens hadn’t abducted the real Brennen Bergen and left whatever you are in his place.”
Brennen wished. An alien abduction would be a walk in the park compared to being shunned by Abby.
“Nope, no aliens. Unfortunately, this is the real me.”
“The PR department doesn’t seem to know what to do now that you’re not splashed all over the internet. We had a whole team dedicated to quashing your bad press.”
“Why are you calling me, Jas?”
“I just got off a call with Klaus.”
Flip!
“And.”
Jasper cleared his throat. “He said you had dinner up at Hannah’s Point a few weeks ago.”
“Yeah.” He’d gone monosyllabic, hoping it would deter where this conversation was headed.
“And you had someone with you. Klaus said her name was Abby Quinn.”
“Yep.”
“Th
e teacher?”
“That’s the one,” he answered, tone neutral.
“Do you think that’s a good idea? You’re at Whitmore as a volunteer and as a representative of the Bergen family. You couldn’t keep your dick in your pants for that?”
Brennen clenched his jaw. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Jas. It’s not like that with her.”
The traffic jam loosened, and Brennen hit the gas as a pocket of silence swallowed the brothers. He passed the sign for Bergen Mountain when his brother broke the hushed stalemate.
“Do you care about this woman, Bren?”
He released a pained breath. “It doesn’t matter if I care about her or not. I screwed up, and she won’t talk to me.”
“Are we going to need PR on this?”
He tightened his grip. “No, we’re not. She’s not like the others. She wouldn’t go to the press or sell her story.”
A beat passed, then two. He knew his brother. Jas was being Jas. All business, Jasper Ryan Bergen. Right now, he was weighing whether or not the lawyers should reach out to Abby as a preemptive move.
“Klaus said you looked happy,” his brother said, catching him off guard.
What was he supposed to say to that?
Yes, Jasper, that was the happiest I can remember being in more than a decade.
Yes, Jas, she made me feel whole again.
Yes, brother dear, I could have spent forever with her and never looked back.
“Well, that ship has sailed,” he answered instead, pulling into the reserved Bergen parking space near the East Village ski lift. “I need to go, Jas. I’m at the mountain for the Whitmore ski weekend.”
“Do me a favor, Bren.”
“What?”
“Don’t do anything that requires legal intervention.”
Brennen shook his head. “I’m hanging up.”
He got out of the car and grabbed his skis and gear. He’d just closed the door when a little boy’s voice cut through the crisp mountain air.
“Mr. Bergen! Mr. Bergen! You’re here!”
Good old Porter Pyro Boyd, decked out in a fireman red ski coat and snow pants.
Brennen slung his skis over his shoulder, picked up his gear bag, and met the boy at the base of the lift.
“Hey, Porter!” he said, patting the kid on his shoulder. “How’s the powder?”
Man Fast: Bergen Brothers: Book One Page 13
