Man Fast: Bergen Brothers: Book One

by Krista Sandor

  13

  Brennen

  Brennen glanced down at the stack of notecards resting on the podium then smiled out at the audience.

  “It’s been an honor speaking with you today. The Bergen Foundation is happy to be partnering with the botanic gardens and the public school system. Enhancing children’s love of nature and the great outdoors is important to my family. We’re honored to supply the gardens with a scholarship fund that will allow schools in economically challenged areas to enjoy the beauty and serenity of the gardens at no cost.” He glanced at his grandmother, sitting at a table with some educators. “On a personal note, my gram can tell you that the gardens are a place very near and dear to my family’s heart. My parents used to bring me and my brothers here when we were boys. And while I did once try to pick all the tulips as a child…”

  “And the irises,” his grandmother added with a grin.

  “And possibly the petunias, too,” he replied as the event attendees chuckled. “I can tell you it was because our gardens are some of the most beautiful in the world. As we get closer to spring and the flowers begin to bloom again, I look forward to seeing the students from your schools enjoying the gardens—and hopefully, not picking the flowers.”

  The people at the tables clapped, and he nodded to the crowd, sliding his notecards into the breast pocket of his suit jacket. His grandmother smiled up at him and gestured for him to join her as she chatted with a school administrator and a member of the botanic garden’s staff.

  He made his way off the stage and kissed his grandmother’s cheek.

  She patted his arm. “I was just telling the school superintendent and the director of children’s education here at the gardens how you volunteered at Whitmore. That ended a little over a month ago, right?”

  A lump formed in his throat. He swallowed hard and pasted on a cheerful expression. “Yes, volunteering and supporting our community is very important to me and the Bergen Foundation.”

  The educators smiled, and they moved on to discuss the garden’s upcoming children’s programming. He’d gotten good at small talk over the last month thanks to all the charity events, board meetings, and business development lunches he’d attended. He’d thrown himself into work. It was the only thing that could distract him from thoughts of Abby.

  After she’d left the cottage with her cousin, he thought he’d lose his mind. She made him a better man. What was he going to do without her? Slide back into his playboy ways? Jet off to the Caribbean and screw anything with a pulse?

  Alone, he’d watched her cousin’s car zigzag its way out of the resort and wrapped himself in the quilt he and Abby had slept beneath. Her sweet scent still lingered, and then it hit him.

  Her cousin was right. It wasn’t Abby’s job to make him a better man. It wasn’t Abby’s task to make him choose the noble path, and it was unfair to put those kinds of expectations on her. He’d tried to bypass her man fast. He’d tried to make her his on the sly. He’d tried to harness everything about her that made him feel better when that responsibility wasn’t hers.

  It had been over a month since that day. The first week away from her was the hardest. Like a lovesick teenager, he’d driven past Whitmore every day. He needed to make sure her car was there. He needed to know she hadn’t lost her job because of him.

  He’d go by around lunchtime, hoping to see her walk out onto the blacktop to pick up her students from recess. On the Monday after the ski weekend, she’d walked out of the school wearing the Bergen Mountain Sports coat he’d given her, and he’d never felt such a sense of relief.

  She was okay. She still had her job.

  A week later, he’d noticed her car wasn’t in the garage at The Dalton and learned from a crabby Harvey that she’d moved out of her cousin’s apartment and into a little bungalow nearby. Harvey wouldn’t tell him where, though.

  Of course, he could have found out where she lived. He could have followed her home from school or taken his chances and asked her pit bull of a cousin, but he didn’t. He didn’t because he wanted to honor her wishes and that meant respecting her man fast.

  His grandmother said goodbye to the educators then turned to him. “You’re very good at this, darling.”

  “Schmoozing?” he offered with a cynical smirk.

  Gram frowned. “Connecting. You’re good at connecting with people and sharing the enthusiasm for what we’re trying to do with the foundation.”

  His smirk changed to a genuine smile. He did care. Over the last few weeks, he’d found that he cared quite deeply about the work.

  His extravagant spending habits had been replaced with reviewing the foundation’s cost savings analysis reports. He still stayed up late, but it wasn’t because of women and mindless sex. Instead, he burned the midnight oil reading grant applications and researching ways the foundation could best help the community.

  “Maybe all the time I’ve been spending with the great philanthropist Harriet Livingston Bergen has rubbed off on me.”

  She chuckled. “While that’s very sweet of you to say, Bren, I don’t think it’s my company that precipitated this change. Have you spoken to her?”

  “Who?” he asked. A dumb move.

  His grandmother narrowed her gaze.

  “No, Gram, I haven’t talked to Abby.”

  “Hmm. I liked her.”

  “Me too.”

  His gram gave him the once over then nodded. “You’ll get to see her at the Whitmore Gala. It’s only three weeks away.”

  Three weeks and one day.

  But who was counting?

  Ah, flip! Who was he kidding? He was marking off the days like a kid counting down to Christmas.

  He glanced around the empty ballroom, and a gnawing sensation grew inside him. “I’m not sure if I should go to the gala, Gram. Maybe you do that one with Grandad.”

  It killed him, but he didn’t want his presence to upset Abby.

  Her expression softened. “We’ll see.” She checked her watch. “The car will be here any minute. Would you walk me out, darling?”

  They left the botanic garden’s main building and made the short jaunt to the exit.

  “Oh, Colorado weather, how I do love your crazy ways,” Gram remarked, inhaling deeply and turning her face up toward the sun.

  She was right. It was the end of February. Last week, it had snowed six inches. Today, patrons strolled the garden paths in T-shirts. Some had even raided their summer clothes drawer and sported shorts.

  “Do you have plans for your Friday evening, dear?”

  He shook his head. “No, I thought I’d go for a run outside before it got too dark and then look over that proposal to partner with the Museum of Nature and Science.”

  They stopped at the curb as a sleek town car pulled up.

  His gram patted his cheek. “I never thought I’d say this to anyone but Jas, but don’t work too hard, darling.”

  He opened the car door and helped her inside.

  She set her purse beside her on the empty seat and turned to him. “I’m proud of you, Brennen.”

  His hand on the doorframe, he stared out at the road. “For figuring out how to act like an adult.”

  “You know it’s more than that. I think you prefer this life to your previous choices.”

  He swallowed hard then met her gaze. “I do.”

  She fastened her seatbelt. “I can tell. It’s been a while since we’ve seen the real Brennen Bergen. The hard-working, kind, conscientious, Bren.”

  He nodded. He was damned lucky to have his gram and grandad. He started to close the car door, but she stopped him.

  “If it’s meant to be, she’ll see it too, darling.”

  He furrowed his brow. “See what?”

  The corners of her mouth pulled into the ghost of a smile. “The real you.”

  Crunch, crunch, crunch.

  Brennen followed the path as he ran through the park and glanced down at his watch. He was averaging a six-minute mile which wasn’t b
ad, but he pushed harder. Rounding a corner, a familiar form merged onto the path ahead of him.

  Abby?

  He’d know her body anywhere. The curve of her hip. The gentle sway in her gait. Her chestnut-brown ponytail bobbed, catching the late day sunlight as she jogged along the path. She wore earbuds connected to her phone, and she tilted her head side to side, lost to the music. He slowed down and kept her in his sights, and his pulse kicked up a notch. She looked good. Strong. Happy.

  His body buzzed. He was like one of Pavlov’s damn dogs, salivating at the sight of her when his gram’s words from barely an hour ago came back to him.

  She’ll see the real you.

  What if she had? And what if it wasn’t enough? What if his past hung too heavy over any possible future for them?

  He continued, following at a distance when another jogger—a man in a hoodie—turned onto the path. The guy started toward him but noticed Abby then changed directions and followed her, upping his speed.

  “No flipping way, dude,” Brennen breathed.

  The park bordered the botanic gardens and was less than a mile away from his penthouse at The Dalton. It was a safe area, but it would only take a second for some predator to overtake Abby and drag her away.

  He pushed harder, legs pumping like a freight train building speed. The guy also sped up then reached for her shoulder. Abby, unaware, continued bopping along, jogging and listening to her music.

  In the space of a breath, Brennen caught up to the man.

  “Don’t you lay a finger on her!” he yelled, grabbing the man around the waist and forcing him to the ground.

  They hit the path with a sharp thud as pieces of gravel dug into his skin.

  “What the hell?” the man yelled.

  “Oh my gosh!” Abby cried, alerted to the scuffle. She’d pulled her earbuds out and froze, eyes wide.

  He held the man’s arms and kept his knee pressed to the guy’s back.

  “Call the police, Abby! This guy was trying to attack you!”

  She cocked her head to the side, gaze darting from him to the man struggling beneath him on the ground. “Luke, is that you?”

  Luke? Who the flip was Luke?

  Brennen looked down at the man. He wasn’t in his fireman getup, but he remembered the guy from his first day volunteering at Whitmore.

  “Yeah, it’s me,” Luke said with a pained breath.

  Brennen looked up and caught Abby’s gaze. “I thought he was trying to attack you.”

  She shook her head, and he couldn’t tell what freaked her out more—seeing him or the fact that he’d just tackled a fireman right in front of her.

  “No, Brennen, that’s just Luke. He’s a local fireman.”

  Luke craned his head. “Dude! Do you mind?”

  Brennen let go and helped the man to his feet.

  “Sorry! I thought you were going to hurt Abby.”

  Luke rubbed his scraped elbow. “I was just trying to say hello.”

  “Are you two…” Brennen began. Adrenaline surged through his body. Jealousy twisted his gut. He’d seen the way this guy looked at Abby during the fire alarm fiasco on his first day at Whitmore.

  What if they were dating?

  “Are we what?” Abby asked, hands on her hips.

  Luke brushed gravel from his thighs. “Look, I recognized Abby. I know her from Whitmore. I thought I’d say hello. That’s it! Who the hell are you?”

  Brennen released a tight breath as relief washed over him.

  They weren’t together.

  Abby glanced at him. “Brennen’s my…my former classroom volunteer.”

  Ouch!

  He held her gaze and saw the tiniest glimmer of warmth in her eyes. She may not be happy to see him, but she didn’t hate him.

  It was something.

  She blinked as if trying to hide the tender emotion then turned her attention to Luke. “Are you going to be all right?”

  The fireman eyed him. “I’m fine. If your bodyguard doesn’t mind, I’m going to continue on my run.”

  Brennen reached out to shake the guy’s hand. “I’m sorry. I was just looking out for Abby.”

  Luke nodded. “I can’t fault you for that.” He shifted his gaze to her. “Tell Porter ‘hi’ for me.”

  She smiled and nodded as Luke continued down the path.

  Brennen shifted his weight from foot to foot like a nervous teenager, trying to work up the courage to talk to a girl. “I didn’t know you jogged.”

  Good God! He sounded like an idiot.

  She toyed with the earbuds. “I just started.”

  A slice of charged silence stretched between them.

  He gestured to the path. “Do you want to walk?”

  A pensive expression crossed her face. It was the same look she got when she was assessing a student. “Sure.”

  She was treading carefully. He’d be smart to do the same. He glanced down at her hand. Christ, he wanted to reach over and hold it, pull her to him and never let go. Instead, he forced his hands to remain still, empty at his sides. They walked the park’s loop in silence as birds chirped a late afternoon chorus.

  She glanced up at him. “I saw you on TV.”

  For the first time in a decade, that sentence didn’t make him cringe. “Yeah?”

  “It was just a quick clip. You were speaking at an event to support the Special Olympics.”

  “Bergen Mountain has a whole ski program for kids with disabilities.”

  “I think that’s really great.”

  He nodded as another beat of silence hung heavy between them.

  He needed to say something. He needed to apologize. But Abby’s gasp cut into his train of thought.

  “Brennen, your knee!”

  “My what?” He looked down and saw a trail of blood.

  She knelt. “You cut yourself. It must have happened when you…”

  “Tackled a firefighter in broad daylight?”

  She looked up at him, her expression softening. “When you thought I was in trouble and tried to help me.”

  Jesus, this woman! For all she knew, he’d only spent time with her to improve his image. Yet here she was, searching her pockets for something to try and stop the bleeding.

  She glanced across the park at The Dalton. “My place is closer than yours. We better get that cleaned up.”

  He pulled a dime-size piece of glass from his leg. How did he miss that? Was he on such an adrenaline high he didn’t even feel the pain? He tossed the shard into a nearby trash can. “Are you sure you don’t mind. I can head home.”

  She handed him a Kleenex, and her fingertips grazed his. A warmth filled his chest, and his mouth grew dry. He would have gouged himself again to feel her touch.

  She glanced toward the neighborhood that bordered the park. “Come on. My place isn’t far.”

  He followed a step behind. “I wondered where you’d moved to.”

  “Mrs. Mackendorfer helped me find it. One of her former students was selling it.”

  “Mrs. Mackendorfer? The other first-grade teacher? The one who looks like she spends all her free time practicing her stink eye?”

  Abby chuckled. “We’ve sort of become friends.”

  “Really?”

  She looked up at him through her lashes. “I can thank you for that.”

  “Me?”

  “You know how I signed up for all those tutoring times and a bazillion days of lunchroom duty?”

  “So you wouldn’t have to see me.”

  A blush bloomed on her cheeks. “All that extra work really impressed my principal and Mrs. Mackendorfer. She’s actually a very good teacher and quite charming.”

  “Charming?”

  “Well, she doesn’t look at me with daggers in her eyes, so I’d say we’ve made some progress.”

  Abby led him up a walkway toward a cozy, red brick bungalow. “And here we are. Come on, I’ll get you cleaned up.”

  “It’s a great place, Abby.”

 
She pulled a key from her pocket and glanced back at him, a grin stretched across her face. “It is, isn’t it?”

  She led him inside. “Let’s go into the kitchen. I’ve got my first aid kit in there.”

  He glanced around. You could tell she hadn’t lived there long. A couch, a bookshelf, and a television sat in one room while what was probably supposed to be a formal dining room sat empty.

  They entered the kitchen in the back corner of the house, and she flicked on the light, illuminating a tidy space. She gestured for him to sit down then opened a cabinet.

  He glanced around the space and honed in on a large calendar hanging on the wall. The number fifty-two written in bold red on today’s date popped out at him. “Is that your man fast?” he asked then reared back. “Ouch!”

  Abby smiled up at him, holding a small white square. “Stay still. It’s just a little alcohol.”

  “That hurts.”

  “Gangrene hurts more.”

  She dabbed at his cut with the alcohol swab. He watched her clean what turned out to be a decent amount of blood from a very tiny cut. She threw the swab into the trash and opened another.

  “Yes, that’s my man fast calendar.”

  “Already day fifty-two.”

  “Yep.”

  “How’s it going?”

  She placed her hand on his knee, the pressure warm and comforting as she wiped up the last bit of blood. She ripped open a bandage, covered the cut, and smoothed the adhesive tabs, then stilled as her fingertips rested on his leg.

  She kept her gaze trained on the bandage. “Is it crazy to say that I really miss you?”

  The breath caught in his throat, and he cupped her face in his hands. “No, because I really miss you, too.”

  “But I need to…”

  “Finish your man fast?”

  Her eyes shined. “It sounds so silly to hear you say it out loud.”

  “It’s not silly. Not at all. It’s important to you, and I understand that. I understand a lot more now than I used to.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like your cousin was right. I swear, I never intended to use you to clean up my image, but I was selfish. I wanted you so badly, I would have done anything to be with you. I did everything I could to get in the way of your man fast. That was wrong. I was wrong.”