She gave him a sweet, teary grin. “I don’t think of you as selfish. I made mistakes, too. Nobody forced me to kiss you.”
He ran his thumb across her lips, and she melted into his touch.
“As much as I want this, want you, Brennen, I need to know I can trust myself. I need to know that I won’t be reckless with my heart ever again.”
He stood and helped her to her feet. “I want that for you, too.”
She stared at their joined hands. “Where do we go from here?”
He couldn’t help himself. He pulled her flush to his chest and wrapped his arms around her. He held her, resting his chin on the crown of her head as the tension drained from his body and his limbs grew warm. She hummed her contentment as her arms encircled his waist, grounding him, bringing him home.
He glanced at the calendar. Not only was it numbered, but it also had a slew of activities listed throughout the month. Archery. Yoga. Book club. Pottery. Axe throwing. Indoor rock climbing. The Notebook movie night every Friday. The man fast wasn’t just about men. She’d turned it into a tool to learn about herself. This woman who had always put others first was trying new things, broadening her horizons.
He tightened his grip. “We follow the man fast.”
“How do we do that now?”
He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to kiss her and never stop. His cock hardened, wanting to take her right there on the kitchen table. But he wasn’t about to make that mistake again. He didn’t want her just for today. He wanted her for all the days. And for that, he couldn’t give in to his carnal desire.
Not yet.
He stroked her head and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “By doing it together as friends.”
She shifted in his arms and looked at the calendar. “It’s twenty-two more days.”
He pulled back a fraction and met her gaze. “Abby, I’d wait twenty-two years for you. I’d wait twenty-two centuries. I just need to ask you one thing.”
“You can ask me anything.”
He glanced at the calendar and then back to her. “The axe throwing class, that’s not so you can learn to throw axes at me, is it?”
She chuckled and pressed her forehead to his chest. “No, not unless you make me really mad. But don’t worry. I’ve only been to one class, and so far, I have really terrible aim. I’d probably only maim you.”
He pressed a kiss to her forehead and sighed with relief. “Thank you for giving me another chance, Abby Rose.”
She gazed up at him. “You know how I feel about second chances.”
“Everybody deserves a chance to make it right.”
Gazes locked, his body ached for her. She bit her lip, and that was nearly the end of him. But he held strong. “What’s on the schedule for tomorrow?”
She smiled. “Kickboxing at nine and a French wine tasting at seven.”
He couldn’t take his eyes off of her. Her warm smile. Her sparkling eyes. A sense of peace settled in his chest as his resolve kicked in. He was strong enough to wait for her. The universe had brought them together, and he wasn’t going to screw up this second chance.
He stepped back, releasing his hold. “Boxing gloves and Bordeaux it is. I’ll pick you up at eight thirty.”
14
Abby
“Take your best shot, Quinn.”
Abby balled her hands into fists and struck the punching bag with a one-two combination.
Brennen glanced around the bag, eyes wide. “Between the axe throwing and the kickboxing, you’re a force to be reckoned with. Had I known you were such a badass, I would have let you kick fireman Luke’s ass on the trail yesterday.”
Was that only yesterday?
She shook her head and gazed up at the beautiful man standing in front of her. Wearing track pants and a T-shirt that effortlessly displayed his strong, muscular body, he’d arrived at her house at eight thirty on the dot—with coffee. That alone made him a keeper. But it was more than that. He’d changed. The pain she’d seen in his eyes had been replaced with purpose.
And it wasn’t like she’d stopped thinking of him the minute Elle hit the gas when they’d left Bergen Mountain.
Not even close.
She’d been a basket case and a slave to social media for that first week after she’d left him at the cottage. Yes, she was afraid the Whitmore community would learn she was the woman in that grainy photograph. But she was more terrified she’d see pictures of Brennen out at the clubs or with his arm slung around the waist of some Denver debutante.
Instead, her feed was flooded with Brennen speaking to a group of disabled skiers. Brennen, holding a check for a donation made to a local women’s shelter. Brennen and his grandmother, smiling for the camera at a fundraiser for the Down Syndrome Association.
She’d employed Elle’s help, but even her cousin couldn’t find one speck of dirt on social media.
In a little over a month, the high-rolling playboy had morphed into a do-gooder philanthropist. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t relieved. She’d be lying if she said it didn’t matter.
It did.
But so did her man fast. So did the promise she’d made to herself. And her man fast experiment was working.
With her own earnings, she’d purchased a home.
Last week, Principal Ramos had given her a contract for a vested position to teach full-time at Whitmore. On her own merit, she’d solidified her place at the school.
She attended poetry readings, pottery classes, and even took a ski lesson. The whole pizza thing Brennen told her to do made a lot of sense now. She journaled. She sketched. She joined a book club at the local library. The girl who had carried the burden of responsibility for the men in her life was now the woman capable of being her own person, knowing her own heart, making her own choices, and forging her own path.
A path she had the strength to walk on her own.
But before she fell asleep each night, she didn’t see herself alone on that journey.
She dreamed of Brennen Bergen.
She fantasized about his touch, his kiss, his hard length sliding inside her in slow, delicious strokes.
She slept in his Bergen Mountain sweatshirt.
She’d arranged and rearranged the glue sticks in her classroom closet at least twenty times.
She’d wanted him to stay last night. It would have been so easy to surrender to desire and lust. Her body tingled at the thought of his touch. But he’d left, promising to be back today. Promising to finish the man fast by her side.
Brennen tapped the bag. “All right, Champ. What’s next?”
She met his gaze. “Now I’m going to kick you.”
A playful grin pulled at the corners of his mouth. “Is this how the man fast works now? You find ways to torture men?”
She got into position and executed a roundhouse kick, her foot grazing his abdominals. “You don’t seem to mind.”
He narrowed his gaze. “Let’s see that again.”
She squared her hips and swept her leg toward him. He caught her bare ankle, and the skin to skin contact sent a pulse of heat straight through her body.
How was she going to make it twenty-one more days?
“You’re quick.”
“You’re beautiful,” he answered, releasing her ankle.
She blushed. “I’m a sweaty mess wearing yoga pants and a tank top.”
“You’d be gorgeous in a potato sack.”
She threw another kick which he caught like a ninja. “You need to mind the man fast, Mr. Bergen.”
He feigned innocence. “No compliments allowed, Miss Quinn?”
She cocked her head to the side. “They’re allowed. They just can’t be about any physical attributes.”
He tightened his hold. “How about, I could watch you try to kick me all day?”
Her cheeks grew warm, and it wasn’t from the kicking. “That’s better.”
He released her ankle, but she leaned in and followed up with an uppercut punch. He cau
ght her tiny fist in his giant hand, their bodies only inches apart, as electricity pulsed between them.
“I need to tell you something,” he breathed, his words sending a shiver down her spine.
“Hmm,” she replied, unable to form words.
“I thought skiing was my favorite sport.”
“Hmm,” she answered, still not capable of speech.
“I’ve changed my mind. I’m going all in on kickboxing.”
She moved in a fraction closer. “All in?”
He ran his thumb across her knuckles. “All in.”
A beat passed, and they didn’t move. Her breaths came fast, her pulse hammering away when the instructor clapped his hands.
“Nice work, class! Let’s stretch it out and then we’ll call it a day.”
Abby took a step back and glanced around the room. It was easy to get pulled into Brennen’s orbit. There were twenty other people in the class, and she hadn’t even noticed them until now.
Brennen raised his arms into a triceps stretch. His shirt lifted, revealing a few inches of hard muscle. Abby bit her lip, and before she could stop herself, she tugged the hem of his shirt, her fingertips gliding over the exposed skin.
Brennen leaned forward, his breath warm on the shell of her ear. “Mind the man fast, Miss Quinn.”
“Yes, absolutely,” she stuttered, stretching her arm across her body.
She looked around the room. All of the women—and even a few men—were stealing glances at him. Two women whispered back and forth, eyes glued to Brennen’s midsection.
Abby swallowed hard. Her life in Colorado might have just started, but every part of Brennen’s life, good and bad, was here. And most of it public.
The instructor ended the class, and the women made a beeline for Brennen.
“Hey, you’re Brennen Bergen, right?”
His posture went rigid. “Yes.”
Like catty schoolgirls, the women glanced at each other and giggled. “We’re Melanie’s friends. She said she partied with you over New Year’s up at Bergen Mountain.”
Brennen remained silent, but Abby could feel the waves of irritation and guilt wafting off of him.
“Um, so we were wondering if we could join you next time?”
“Yeah, maybe get your number so we could meet up,” the other girl added.
Abby stared at the women who completely ignored her. Was this for real? Were people this brazen? She and Brennen were there together, and that wasn’t enough to keep these women from throwing themselves at him.
“I’m sorry, ladies. I’m very busy with my work at the Bergen Foundation.”
Undeterred, the woman pressed on. “What about Spring Break? The three of us could party together. Like a private party.”
“Yeah, the three of us could have a really good time.”
Brennen’s jaw muscles tightened. “That’s not going to happen.”
“Why not?” the women asked in unison.
“Because of Abby.”
“Who’s Abby?”
Brennen rested his hand on her back. “This is Abby.”
“You have a girlfriend? Like a real girlfriend?”
His hand clutched the fabric of her tank top. “Are you ready to go, Abby?”
She nodded.
Without another word, Brennen guided her toward the exit.
They walked through the parking lot, and he opened her car door. She got in, not sure what to say. They hadn’t spent much time together in the real world. The majority of her time with him had been spent in the safety of Whitmore and hidden away at the cottage on Bergen Mountain.
Was this what life was like for him? Women chasing him around, begging to basically screw his brains out?
He got in the car and released a frustrated breath. “Abby, I’m sorry. That was…”
She rested her hand on his forearm. “The past.”
He stared at the steering wheel, shaking his head.
She gave his arm a gentle squeeze. “We both have pasts, Brennen.”
“Yeah, but mine is a flipping disaster. You shouldn’t have to go through that.”
She bit the inside of her cheek. “I’m not your girlfriend.”
He turned to her, eyes wide. “You are so much more to me than a girlfriend.”
“What about the man fast?”
He took her hands into his. “I told you, I’d wait centuries for you. I’ll do whatever it takes. We’re on this man fast together.”
She released a shaky breath. “Okay.”
“You believe me?” he asked, hope lacing each word.
“Yes, I do.”
“Thank you, Abby. Thank you for believing in me.” A pained look marred his features. “I’m not that guy. I was that guy. I was that idiot for a decade. But I’m done with him. You’re my future. The Bergen Foundation is my future. Maybe I should take out an ad in the paper or buy a billboard to let all of flipping Denver know the Brennen Bergen of the past is gone.”
She held his gaze. “I know that. I know who you are.”
He shook his head in frustration. “But it’s not fair to you. You shouldn’t have to put up with that.”
She looked down at their entwined fingers. “I think you’re forgetting something.”
“What could I be forgetting?”
She smiled as a sense of confidence and self-assurance filled her with resolve. “It’s going to take a lot more than that to chase me away.”
He brought her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “Where did you come from?”
Her smile morphed into a smirk. “We’ve already gone through this. I’m from Florida.”
He leaned over, cupped her cheek in his hand, and rested his forehead against hers. “Abby Rose, you are a remarkable woman.”
“You’re not so bad yourself, Duke of Denver.”
He pulled back, and his expression brightened. “I’ve got an idea. I know we’ve got a wine tasting scheduled for tonight, but would you mind if we did something different?”
She raised an eyebrow. “No helicopters.”
He shook his head. “Nope, we’re staying on the ground.”
“I’m game for pretty much anything. All I ask is that there are no double black diamonds.”
He laughed. “No double black diamonds, but there will be a few triples.”
She reared back. “Triple black diamonds?”
He shook his head. “Triple letter score.”
She gasped with delight. “Are you talking about Scrabble?”
“You know the game?” He lowered his voice as if they were discussing something very naughty.
She matched his tone. “Oh, I know the game. Ask Elle, we played Scrabble all summer long when we were kids.”
“Then you’re not a novice.”
She lifted her chin. “I’ll have you know, I’d consider myself a triple black diamond Scrabble player.”
“Good, because I’m offering you a night of competitive wordplay.”
She leaned in. “Will there be wine?”
“Oh yeah. It’s a must with this group.”
She gave him a wry grin. “Will there be any Brennen Bergen groupies?”
He kept his expression neutral. “Yes, there’ll be a couple.”
Her jaw dropped, and he laughed.
“I think you’re going to like these groupies.”
She narrowed her gaze. “Will I get to watch them invite you to have a threesome?”
He cringed. “I hope not. That would be beyond weird.”
She sat back and stared at this man—a man who could have his pick of any woman, could buy himself anything—and here he was, with her, suggesting they spend the evening playing board games.
“What do you say, are you in?”
Her heart knew the answer.
“I’m all in.”
“That’s a triple letter score on the Z, so that makes my total…” Abby tallied up her score. “Seventy-four points.” She smiled and held Brennen�
�s gaze from across the Scrabble board.
“Remarkable, darling! Well played!”
Abby ducked her head, her cheeks growing rosy.
Brennen bit back a grin. “Seventy-four is Abby’s favorite number, Gram.”
Abby’s cheeks heated, and she shook her head. The Brennen Bergen groupies they were spending the evening with were none other than his grandparents, Harriet and Ray Bergen. On Saturday nights when the elder Bergens weren’t hosting a charity ball or attending some glitzy Denver event, they ordered in pizza, opened a bottle of wine, and broke out the Scrabble tiles.
Brennen’s grandfather nodded in approval of her score. “You should have let us know you were bringing a Scrabble mastermind, Bren. I would have invited the governor.”
Abby nearly knocked over the board. “Of Colorado?”
Ray nodded. “He and I have a standing game every Friday at noon. I should bring you along, Abby. You can take my place. He’s a damned good player. I’d love to watch you kick his ass.”
Brennen laughed. “Sorry, Grandad, Abby’s at school on Fridays at noon.”
“Well, this summer then.”
Abby grinned. “It’s a date.”
When they pulled up to the Bergen Estate, she’d nearly twisted the cuff off her sleeve.
Yes, she’d met his grandparents before. Yes, they were lovely people. But things were different now. She was different. She cared deeply for Brennen. What if they didn’t think some girl from Florida was good enough for their grandson? What if she didn’t fit into life with the super-rich? But all her worries melted away when Ray answered the door with a slice of pizza in his hand and a warm smile.
Brennen stared at his letters. “Okay, I’m up. Give me a second.”
Harriet took a sip of wine. “How do you like Colorado, Abby?”
“I love it. It’s so different from Florida.”
Ray nodded. “I’ll say! You traded the beaches for the mountains. Have you gone up skiing yet?”
Abby shared a look with Brennen. “My first time skiing was quite an adventure.”
Brennen kept his gaze on his letter tiles. “She took the lift to Harriet’s Descent.”
His grandmother pressed her hand to her chest. “You didn’t!”
Man Fast: Bergen Brothers: Book One Page 18
