The side of his mouth turned up into the hint of a smile. “So, you think of me like a six-year-old.”
She held his gaze. “No, I just believe that after someone makes a mistake, they deserve the chance to make it right.”
“You do?” he asked, barely a whisper.
The elevator jerk vanished, and the man standing a breath away looked broken and desperate for forgiveness. There was a depth of emotion in his eyes that wasn’t there before.
“I—” she started, but she couldn’t finish. Instead, she gasped, pulled from the tender moment by the shrill, piercing beep of the fire alarm.
4
Brennen
What the hell just happened?
Brennen stood outside on the blacktop near the back of Miss Quinn’s line of students. One of the little fuckers pulled the fire alarm. It was easy to tell which one it was. While all the other kids had panicked and covered their ears upon hearing the blaring noise, one little boy jumped up and down near the window, laughing and cheering.
Miss Quinn had looked ready to lose her lunch, paling then bolting from the supply closet. He’d tried to slip out of her classroom. He would have bet the entire net worth of Bergen Enterprises that she was done having him as a volunteer, but she wouldn’t let him leave. Between herding the children out of the school and turning another shade paler, she’d spouted off something about a school visitor log and how they had to account for every person in the building when the firemen arrived.
And what the mother fuck had happened in that supply closet? Thank Christ that crazy pyro-loving kid pulled the alarm! What was he about to do? Break down and cry? Tell her all about his dead mommy and daddy and how he was the reason they were gone? But he couldn’t shake what he saw in her eyes. Couldn’t let go of the idea that even he deserved a chance to make things right.
And then there was his cock.
When she’d jabbed that glue stick into his chest and went all Kindergarten Cop on him, a switch flipped. The women he surrounded himself with didn’t tell him what to do. The women he dated served a more ornamental and carnal purpose. He’d never felt any need to actually try to impress them or gain their respect. It had been well over a decade since he actually tried at anything at all.
He glanced at the school. His elementary school. It seemed like a lifetime ago when he and his brothers had attended the prestigious Whitmore Country Day. He could see them now, Jas in fifth grade, Cam in first, and himself in third, racing across the lawn to greet their mother. They didn’t have a nanny growing up. All their friends did, but not them. Every day when the school bell rang, his mother would be there smiling ear to ear. She was always eager to hear about their day.
How are my three brightest stars?
She’d ask the same question every day.
He’d taken it all for granted. The love. The kindness. The acceptance. He never imagined it could be gone in the blink of an eye.
Brennen checked his watch. It had been ten minutes since the fire trucks arrived, and Miss Quinn stood at the front of the line with a grin pasted to her face. He could tell it was for the kids as she twisted the edge of her sleeve and glanced over at the building every few minutes. Another teacher tapped her shoulder, and the women began to chat, giving him an unguarded moment to observe her. She was pretty. That went without saying. Petite. Slim. The sun caught the red highlights in her glossy brown hair, and his fingers twitched with the need to tuck a wayward lock behind her ear. And those eyes. God help him! He couldn’t remember the name of the last woman he’d fucked, let alone, be able to describe the color of her eyes. But Abby’s eyes, gaze heated with anger, flashing sage-green and gold, seared into him as if her harsh rebuke burned itself into his soul.
“You’re single, right, Abby?”
Brennen barely heard the woman’s words over the murmur of the children’s voices and took a few steps toward the women. Their backs were to him, and they didn’t seem to notice him there.
She twisted her sleeve. “Yes, why?”
He took another step toward them. So, she was single—not that it mattered.
“There are a couple of really cute firemen. You should flirt a little.”
Brennen clenched his jaw. He had no claim to Abby Quinn. Hell, she was nobody to him up until an hour ago. Why was he reacting like this?
“I can’t.”
Relief washed over him.
“So, you do have a boyfriend?”
The relief drained in an instant. What the fuck was wrong with him?
“No, I’m on a man fast,” Abby answered.
A what? He paused. Did he hear that wrong?
“Man what?” the other teacher asked as he took another step closer.
“Man fast. I’ve sworn off men.”
Well, this was interesting.
“Forever?” the woman asked.
He edged in closer.
“No, for seventy-four days.”
“Why seventy-four?”
Good question. He liked this lady. They were on the same wavelength.
Abby lowered her voice. “Because I needed a reset. Because I don’t trust myself not to become a doormat for another creep, and I want to focus solely on my work.”
He wasn’t expecting that. After the holy hell she’d given him in the supply closet, he couldn’t imagine anyone using her as a doormat.
“What about you?” Abby said, turning the tables on the woman when a little hand grabbed onto his.
“Whoa!” he said, surprised by the contact.
Abby and the other teacher spun around, and Abby’s cheeks bloomed crimson. She met his gaze. The fire he’d seen in her eyes during their supply closet escapade was back, but it cooled when she glanced at the little boy still clutching his hand.
“Am I in trouble?”
Brennen looked at the kid. It was none other than the little pyro switch puller himself.
Abby crouched down and patted the boy’s arm. “Firemen have a very important job, Porter. They save people’s lives every day. We can only pull the fire alarm when there’s a real emergency.”
“Your teacher’s right,” came a deep voice.
The kid let go of his hand, and Brennen looked up to see a fireman with a serious expression.
The little boy dropped his chin to his chest. “Hi, Fireman Luke.”
The man got down on a knee next to Abby. “What happened, Porter?”
“I did it again,” the boy answered.
The fireman nodded and pulled a matchbox-sized firetruck out of his coat. “Here, buddy,” the man said, giving Porter the toy. “Maybe your teacher will let you keep this in your desk. Then anytime you want to see a firetruck, you can look at this instead of pulling the fire alarm. It’s just like the firetruck I drive except smaller.”
Duh! Brennen thought. He’d never disliked a fireman, but this guy was just a fraction too close to Abby.
The fireman pivoted toward her and turned up the wattage on his grin. “Are you new to Whitmore?”
Abby nodded. “Yes, it’s my first day. I took over Mrs. Schram’s class.”
“First day and you get to meet all of us from Engine Nine. Lucky you! I’m Luke,” he said with a little too much cheese.
Abby blushed. “Abby Quinn. It’s nice to meet you, Luke. Hopefully, we won’t be calling you back here for another false alarm.”
“Everyone’s safe, and I got to meet you. I’d say it was worth the call.”
Who was this dude? He was laying it on pretty damn thick.
Abby stood and tucked a lock of hair, the same lock he’d been itching to touch, behind her ear. “It was sweet of you to give Porter the firetruck. Of course, he can keep it in the classroom.” She looked at the boy. “What do you think, Porter?”
The little boy nodded. “Thanks, Miss Quinn! Thanks, Fireman Luke! You’re the best!”
Brennen eyed the guy. That was debatable.
Another fireman came over. “We’ve got the all clear. Everyone can go back i
nside.”
Luke touched the rim of his helmet like he was some sort of Wild West Sheriff. “Nice meeting you, Abby.”
What a tool!
“You, too,” she said then turned to the class. “The firemen say it’s safe to go back inside. Let’s make a nice, straight line and then we’ll follow Mrs. Mackendorfer’s class back into the building.”
She turned to him. “You can go,” she said, voice void of emotion. The anger he’d seen earlier was gone, and she stared at him blankly.
“That’s okay,” he stammered. Fuck! He never stammered. “If there’s anything I can—”
“Miss Quinn!”
The principal joined them and gave him a kiss-ass toothy grin that, up until this point, he’d enjoyed. He’d liked knowing people wanted to impress him, wanted to be in his good graces. Now, the sight of it twisted his gut.
“Yes, Mrs. Ramos, I’m so—”
The principal gave him one last look and lowered her voice. “Miss Quinn, I’d like to see you in my office after the children are dismissed.”
“Of course.”
“Not a minute later,” the woman added sharply.
“I understand,” Abby replied with a shake to her voice.
The principal threw him one last placating grin and headed toward the building. Abby closed her eyes and released a breath, shoulders turning in.
He took a step toward her. “If you need any help, I can stay. It’s no trouble.”
“Please just go,” she said, eyes still closed.
“Can we go inside, Miss Quinn?” came a chorus of voices.
Abby opened her eyes. Her throat constricted as she swallowed. “Yes, it looks like it’s our turn. Go ahead, Caroline, please lead us in,” she said, then followed the children without giving him another glance.
Shit!
What the hell was he supposed to do? He stood there like an idiot and watched Abby’s line of students trail inside the school. She was the last one in and met his gaze before pulling the door closed.
“What was that all about? Did you try to set the place on fire on your first day?”
Brennen shook his head. Of course, his micromanaging brother would show up.
Brennen turned. “What the hell are you doing here, Jas? Did Gram and Grandad send you?”
His brother glanced around the schoolyard. “No, I came on my own.”
This was his brother trying to smooth things over without actually addressing the chasm between them. The same song and dance they’d been doing for years, and he wasn’t about to try and alter history.
“Looks the same, huh?” He could almost hear his mother calling out to them.
“Good memories,” Jas added without an ounce of emotion. His brother was good at that. He almost envied him.
Jasper smoothed the front of his suit. “Come grab a beer with me. Wouldn’t it be nice to stay out of the papers for a night? Maybe give the social media mavens the evening off?”
Brennen shook his head, but as if on cue, his phone pinged once and then again. He pulled it from his pocket and glanced at the screen. Another text from faceless Ashley and a photo of some chick’s tits.
“Yeah, I think I can fit you in.”
He followed his brother’s Audi down Denver’s Colfax Avenue to a seedier part of town. This was not Jasper’s or even his scene. But nobody bothered them here. Nobody recognized them—or if they did, this crowd wasn’t the type to chase after them and ask to take their picture.
Brennen settled onto a bar stool next to his brother as the bartender set two beers in front of them.
Jas nodded to the man and took a sip. “I want you to know that Gram and Grandad weren’t kidding about cutting you off. They’ve had papers drawn up.”
Brennen took a hard gulp. “For what?”
“For completely cutting you out of the business.”
“Jesus!”
Jas straightened into business mode. “You’ll never be destitute. You’ve got your trust. But Gram and Grandad are getting older. They want to ensure the company is in good hands.”
Brennen traced a bead of perspiration down the side of the glass. “And that means protecting it from me?”
His brother relaxed a fraction. “Just don’t screw up the Whitmore Community Partnership Volunteer gig. You know Gram’s throwing you a softball on this one. She’s not asking you to take over the day to day operations of the foundation. This is one small project to see how you do.”
“She sent me there a day early. It doesn’t start until tomorrow.”
Jas frowned. “Why’d she do that? I’ve never known her to get a date wrong.”
“I think she did it on purpose.”
His brother’s eyebrows shot up. “Really?”
“Yeah. She must have known that I told the pilot I wanted to use the Bergen jet to go to the Cayman Islands house tomorrow.”
His brother chuckled into his beer. “Because spending the last month chasing tail in the mountains got boring? Needed to add some variety? Jesus, Bren!”
Jesus, Bren, was right. Maybe his indiscretions were okay for somebody in their early twenties, but he was thirty. Friends he’d grown up with were getting married, having kids, and acting like bona fide adults.
Something twangy played on the old jukebox, and Brennen hung his head. “I kind of fucked up at the school today.”
Jas nearly spit out his beer. “That fire was your fault!”
“No, not exactly.”
Stress lines pulled at the corners of his brother’s eyes. “Not exactly?”
“I didn’t set anything on fire. A kid in Abby’s class loves fire trucks and pulled the alarm to get the firemen to respond.”
Jasper sat quietly for a moment then turned and stared at him.
“What?” Brennen asked, surprised his brother wasn’t giving him a lecture on responsibility.
“Abby’s class?”
Brennen lifted his glass. “Miss Quinn’s class. Whatever.”
“I’m just shocked you remembered a woman’s name.”
“Oh, fuck off.”
“You know I’m right.”
He was right. He knew more about Abby in the hour they’d spent together than any woman he’d ever screwed.
His brother met his gaze. “Miss not missus?”
Brennen knew where his brother was going. “You don’t have to worry about me hooking up with her. She’s on a man fast.”
“A what?”
Brennen exhaled. “I overheard her talking with another teacher. She’s sworn off men for seventy-four days. She’s made some poor choices in her past, and she wants to focus on her work.”
“I like her already,” Jas said, holding back a grin.
Brennen stared at the amber liquid in his glass. He liked Abby Quinn, too. But he wasn’t about to cop to it with his brother. He glanced out the window. A fresh coat of snow had turned the parking lot white.
He drank the last of his beer. “Storm’s rolling in.”
Jas grinned. “It’s like watching dollars fall from the sky.”
“Is your mind ever not on work?”
“If you were in charge of the financial well-being of a ski resort, you’d feel the same way. Bergen Mountain should be getting at least eight inches of fresh powder. It’s good for business, Bren.”
They watched the snow fall as another twangy song played on the jukebox. He glanced at Jasper. His big brother’s expression had softened, and he knew what the man was thinking.
As kids, they’d watch the snowcats groom Bergen Mountain from their bedroom in the mountain house. Back and forth, the lights on the giant vehicles would dot the mountain, moving in slow, steady lines. Despite the house having eleven bedrooms, the brothers had insisted on sleeping in the same room. He could almost hear his mother singing softly as she sat on the edge of his bed, patting his back. He’d try and keep his eyes open, but it was no use. The sweet sound of her voice combined with the hypnotic movement of the headlights traversing the
runs always proved too powerful, and he’d drift off to sleep feeling safe and loved.
Jas took out his wallet and nodded to the bartender. “We better go before the roads get bad. It’s coming down pretty good.”
Brennen caught his brother’s gaze in the grimy mirror behind the bar. “I’m not going to fuck up at Whitmore, Jas.”
His brother slid a bill out of his wallet and placed it on the bar. Without looking up, Jas shrugged. “We’ll see.”
Brennen rolled down his window and entered the code to The Dalton’s parking garage. He maneuvered the Mercedes SUV through the rows of luxury cars until an old Volvo wagon caught his attention—not the usual Dalton car—and his pulse kicked up when he saw Abby exit the vehicle.
Was she just getting home from school?
After he’d left the bar, despite the snow, he’d run a couple errands and grabbed sushi at his favorite spot. He glanced at the dashboard and checked the time. Half past eight.
He pulled into his parking spot and watched her open the back hatch. She was pretty. She’d pulled her long hair into a bun, and tendrils framed her face. She wasn’t wearing a coat, and for some reason—completely foreign to him—this set his nerves on edge. This was Colorado. She needed a decent jacket.
She slung a tote bag over her arm and then another when a stuffed animal fell to the ground. He got out of his car and walked over. He swallowed hard. Was he nervous to talk to her? Women didn’t make him nervous, but the butterflies in his stomach begged to differ. He picked up the stuffed monkey and tapped her shoulder. “You dropped this.”
She shrieked and spun around, bags flying. “You scared me! I didn’t hear you come up.”
This was going well. He held up the monkey. “I think this is yours.”
Her gaze hardened, and she took the stuffed animal and tucked it gently into one of the bags.
He shifted his stance. “How did everything go with your principal?”
“So you care now?” she shot back, filling her arms with books.
Fuck!
“If you’d like to know, I got quite an earful from her,” she said, closing the back hatch and opening the door to the backseat where there were more books.
Man Fast: Bergen Brothers: Book One Page 5