“I’m sorry to hear that.”
She glanced over her shoulder. “Well, it’s your fault.”
“My fault?”
Abby turned to face him. Her bottom lip trembled, and he had to resist the urge to cup her cheek in his hand and run his thumb across it.
She steadied herself. “This morning you ignored me and didn’t hold the elevator. I had to run down eleven flights of stairs which made me late for my first day at Whitmore. Then, you show up in my classroom, barely verbal, clearly not wanting to be there. And instead of helping, you spend forty-five minutes on your phone, and you didn’t even do something as simple as staple twenty science packets. Had you done that, I would have gone right into teaching the lesson and not given Porter the chance to pull the alarm.”
He gritted his teeth. “You pulled me into the supply closet.”
Her eyes went wide. “You said the B-word in the middle of a first-grade classroom! What was I supposed to do? I couldn’t speak to you in front of my class. God forbid you drop an F-bomb! I needed you to know I meant business.”
“Okay, you’re right. I was out of line with the B-word.” Christ, now he was talking like her!
She reared back. “That’s it? You think your behavior was just out of line! Is this your idea of an apology?”
He let out an audible breath and stared at the massive stack of books in her arms. “Let me help you with those.”
She lifted her chin. “No, thank you. I’ll be fine on my own.”
“You have like six hundred books, Abby.”
She ignored him, banged the door closed with the side of her arm, and headed toward the elevator.
He pushed the button, and the doors opened, but she didn’t move.
“Aren’t you going up?”
She shook her head as her arms trembled with the exertion of carrying such a load. “Not with you.”
Of course, she’d be stubborn as hell.
He dropped his chin. “Then take this one, and I’ll get the next.”
That stubborn-mule of a headshake. “No, you go.”
“Abby, I’m not going to take the elevator and leave you here holding all that.”
She shifted the books that looked ready to topple to the ground. “I have strong arms. I can wait here all night.”
He sighed. “Fine, if that’s what you want.”
He walked into the elevator then turned to face her. She maintained a stoic façade, but as soon as the doors closed, he heard the sharp slap of the books hitting the concrete and the heart-wrenching sound of her sobs. He swallowed past the lump in his throat, and a harsh realization washed over him. He pressed the button for the penthouse and rested his head on the elevator wall. “Brennen Bergen, look how you turn everything to shit.”
5
Abby
“No, no, no!” Abby pleaded, listening to the sound of her tires spin as she pressed on the gas.
She’d barely made it out of The Dalton’s parking garage, thanks to the seven inches of snow that had fallen overnight, and now found herself stuck on the slippery side street.
She got out of the car. Good gravy, it was cold! Shivering, she kicked at the icy sludge covering her front tire. Her toes were frozen. To her credit, she was wearing boots—just not the kind made for actual inclement weather.
Where was a snowplow when a gal needed one?
She could not be late to school for the second day in a row! She kicked again, trying to remove the snow from where it encased her front tire when the grinding sound of The Dalton’s underground parking garage door cut through the frigid air.
Great! Everyone would get to see her stranded on the side of the road.
A black Mercedes SUV exited the garage then parked in front of her Volvo—the fancy car having no trouble on the snow-covered street. The door opened and out came—yep—her elevator jerk.
He walked over, looking like an ad for Handsome Mountain Man Weekly. “Where’s your coat?”
She looked down at the jacket that had worked perfectly fine in Florida. “This is my coat.”
“That’s not a coat,” he said, frowning.
She crossed her arms. “I don’t have a lot of time to talk fashion. I’m trying to get to work on time.”
Why did this man have to see her at her worst moments? And why was she so mean to him? She wasn’t mean to anyone.
He put out his hand. “Give me your keys.”
“Why?”
“I’m going to park your car back in the garage, and then I’ll take you to school.”
She shook her head. “No.”
“No?”
“I don’t need your help.”
He glanced at her car. “Do you want to be late?”
Jerk! Of course, she didn’t want to be late.
She handed him the keys. “I can’t get her to budge an inch. You’re welcome to try.”
“Let’s get your stuff and put it in my car first. Do you have all eight thousand books with you today?”
She wanted to throttle him! “It was twelve books, and no. I only brought one with me.”
She pulled her teacher’s tote and purse out of the car and followed Brennen to his SUV. He opened the passenger door and helped her in.
Sweet bliss!
She closed her eyes and melted into the heated leather seat. She released a sigh with a touch too much gusto and sounded like she was auditioning for a dirty movie.
“It’s just so cold out there and so nice in here,” she said, sure her cheeks were beet red. But he wasn’t looking at her face. His attention was on her choice of footwear.
“Those aren’t real boots.”
There was her elevator jerk. Her heated blush cooled. “I must have left my real ones on top of Mount Everest.”
A hint of a smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. “I wouldn’t have pegged you as funny. Sit tight,” he said, closing the door.
She wiggled her fingers in front of the vents blasting warm air.
First stop after school today: purchase gloves.
She glanced in the rearview mirror as Brennen Bergen twisted his broad shoulders into her car and closed the door. Slowly, he maneuvered the vehicle back and forth, and before she could release an exasperated sigh, the man made a U-turn in the street and headed inside the garage.
Of course, he could drive in seven inches of snow! He could probably also skin a rabbit and survive on nuts and berries in the wilderness, and do it all with those big, strong hands.
Stop! No thinking about Brennen Bergen’s hands or any other parts!
She checked the time. They needed to go. On a normal day without a snow catastrophe, it should take her fifteen minutes to get to Whitmore. Today, she’d given herself an hour.
“You’re okay. You’re not going to be late,” she whispered as the car door opened.
“You need snow tires.”
“You think?” she shot back.
What was wrong with her?
She was a nice person, and if she cared about her job, she had to get along with this man. She stared out the window.
“You don’t like me,” he said.
She wasn’t looking, but she would have sworn he was smiling as he uttered the statement.
A prickling sensation tingled through her body. She pulled her gaze from the winter wonderland. “I don’t like being viewed as a bad teacher. I’m not a bad teacher. I’m pretty darn good at what I do. But—”
“But thanks to me, you got off on the wrong foot at your job.”
She sat back in her seat, trained her gaze on the road, and changed tack. “I googled you last night.”
His grip tightened on the steering wheel. “You did?”
“Yes, and I can’t figure out what you do as President of the Bergen Foundation besides go out with a lot of women.”
Good gravy! What was she doing? Something about Brennen Bergen got under her skin. It made her ornery and off-balance.
“Maybe I need to go on a woman fast.�
��
She blushed. “I was worried you might have overheard that.”
He glanced at her. “It’s not a bad idea. You’re on a man fast. I’ll go on a woman fast.”
“Just like that?”
He grinned. “Just like that.”
She chuckled.
“You don’t think I can?” he asked.
She turned to face him. “I don’t know you.”
He slowed the car as they approached a stop sign and met her gaze.“You seem to think you know enough to assume I can’t do it. What are the rules to your man fast?”
“No dating of any kind.”
“How many kinds are there?” His smirk was back, but it wasn’t condescending. It seemed playful.
She cocked her head to the side and gave him her best teacher stare.
His teasing expression grew serious. “How many days is the man fast?”
“Seventy-four. Well, seventy-three now. It started yesterday.”
He trained his gaze back on the road. “I’m in.”
“How will I know if you cheat?”
“The internet, right?” he answered with a sly grin.
She shook her head. “Touché.”
“How will I know if you cheat?” he asked.
“Oh, I won’t.”
“You’re so sure? What if Fireman Luke swings by with his big shiny truck and asks you to go save a cat from a tree with him?”
She felt her cheeks heat. “I’d have to say no.”
He lowered his voice. “What if they were kittens?”
“Still no.”
“I guess I’ll just have to take your word on it. Will you take mine?”
He wasn’t joking. At least he didn’t seem to be.
“Okay,” she answered, butterflies erupting in her belly.
She’d never made a pact with anyone. It felt strangely intimate and slightly naughty. Both things she could not be with Brennen Bergen. She pushed the thought aside. “So, what are you doing up so early?”
“I was heading to Whitmore.”
“Really?”
“You didn’t think I’d be back?” he said with a grin that was starting to grow on her.
She twisted the cuff of her jacket. “Listen, I owe you an apology. I’m sorry for being so unkind last night in the parking garage. I’m not usually like this. I just feel like I’m running to stand still. I’ve got to familiarize myself with new math, reading, writing, social studies, and science curriculums and then there’s getting to know the kids and building relationships with the families.”
He shook his head. “It’s not your fault. I have the uncanny ability to bring out the worst in people.”
The car came to a stop, and she looked around. They’d made it to Whitmore, and she’d barely noticed. They sat there a moment staring up at the brick building, neither speaking.
What was it about this guy? One minute he’s a jerk. The next, he seems so honest and so broken, all she wanted to do was pick up the pieces and put him back together.
She gestured to the school. “We better…”
“Yeah,” he replied.
She gathered her things, and a pocket of silence stretched between them as they headed toward the building.
And…her elevator jerk had switched back to aloof mode. She pressed the call button, and the door buzzed open.
“I need to stop in the office. The secretary said she’d have my keycard for me.”
He nodded. Yep, the sullen giant was back.
They entered the cozy office, and Mrs. Holland greeted them a warm smile. “Good morning, Mr. Bergen, you can sign in here,” she said, opening the volunteer sign-in log. “And Miss Quinn, I’ve got a few things for you.”
The woman handed her a school identification keycard and a stack of papers. “Those need to go home with the children today regarding the First Grade Colorado Fact Competition.”
“What’s that?” she asked.
Mrs. Holland frowned. “It’s quite a big deal here at Whitmore.”
Abby’s pulse kicked up. “When is it?”
“Mrs. Schram didn’t leave you any information on it in her planning book?” the secretary asked with a grave expression.
Abby shook her head as the office grew warmer. “No, this is the first I’ve heard of it. I went through all of Mrs. Schram’s lesson plans. There was nothing about any competition noted in them.”
“What wasn’t noted?” Principal Ramos asked, coming out of her office.
“Miss Quinn wasn’t aware of the First Grade Colorado Fact Competition,” Mrs. Holland answered.
The principal crossed her arms, and Abby’s stomach dropped.
Oh no! Just add it to the list of things she’d already screwed up!
“Miss Quinn, the information should have been in Mrs. Schram’s lesson plans. The competition is this Friday.”
“This Friday,” Abby echoed.
The woman nodded. “I know Mrs. Mackendorfer’s been teaching Colorado State facts to her students since the beginning of the school year. It’s a very important event at Whitmore. We hold the competition in the auditorium, and the students’ parents are invited to attend.”
That gave her today, Wednesday, and Thursday. Three days to prepare her students while Mrs. Mackendorfer had worked with her kids for over four months.
Abby didn’t think it possible, but her stomach dropped again. It was like being on one of those horrible carnival rides that whisks you way up high then drops you, one body-jolting segment at a time.
When was she going to find herself on solid ground?
And to top it all off, Abby wasn’t impressed with what she’d seen of Mrs. Schram’s lesson plans. The former teacher’s notes were jumbled and incoherent. She’d been up until two in the morning trying to piece together what the woman had taught for half a school year.
Maybe there was a reason the Mack Attack wanted Schram gone.
Abby attempted to at least appear calm. “I’ll be sure to start working with the children on this information immediately, Principal Ramos.”
“I should hope so. The parents have high expectations of Whitmore Country Day, as do I.”
“Absolutely,” she said as resolutely as she could muster.
Three days to prepare. If only that asteroid she’d wished on Brennen Bergen would crash through the building!
She walked out of the office in a daze, almost forgetting her elevator jerk. She spun around and bumped into him, dropping the stack of papers. She knelt down and stared at the floor. He was watching her. She could feel his gaze, feel his presence. She wanted to fall forward and have him catch her. She needed something solid, something that would let her know she’d hit bottom. At least then, she could start climbing her way out.
Brennen gathered the papers and tapped them on the ground, making a neat stack. “Are you all right?”
She kept her gaze trained on the floor. “Do I look as bad as I feel?”
“Do you feel like you just went through a meat grinder?”
She met his gaze and couldn’t help releasing a sad little laugh. It was that or cry, and she wasn’t about to lose it on the floor of Whitmore Country Day. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”
He gave her that ghost of a smile. “Then, yeah, that’s how you look.”
They rose to their feet, and he handed her the papers. She glanced at the flyers. In bold colors below what she assumed was the Colorado flag read, Whitmore Country Day’s 38th Annual First Grade Colorado Fact Competition.
Here’s the thing about schools: if it’s printed on a flyer, it’s basically written in stone.
She held the papers to her chest as they walked down the hall to her classroom. “I don’t know the first thing about Colorado. I’ve been here for eleven days, and I’ve only gone to three places. My cousin’s apartment, Whitmore, and the corner market.”
They stopped in front of her classroom. She pulled out the key but rested her head against the door before opening it. “What am
I going to do?” she whispered, more to the universe than to Brennen Bergen.
He lowered his voice. “You might be better off than you think.”
“How so?” she asked, forehead still pressed against the cool wood.
“You, Miss Quinn, have got the Duke of Denver volunteering in your classroom.”
She shook her head against the door. “I called you that, didn’t I? Is that a real thing? See, I know nothing about this state!”
“You also called me the King of Colorado, but that seems a little pretentious. I’m good with the duke.”
She turned and pressed her back into the door. “So, your royal mountainous, Duke of Denver, how am I better off?”
“My dad was a huge Colorado history buff. He loved this state and knew everything about it. When we were kids, it didn’t matter where we were—riding up with him on the ski lift, driving around the mountains, or even at the breakfast table—he’d either be quizzing us or lecturing us about the Centennial State.”
“Is that what Colorado is? The Centennial State? See, I really know nothing.”
He grinned, and his face transformed. The sullen edge was gone, and in its place was kindness and compassion. It was like basking in sunlight. Everything disappeared, and only Brennen Bergen existed.
“Hey, Abby!” came Cadence’s voice.
Abby startled.
She and Brennen were standing in the small alcove in front of her classroom door. A space which she now realized was quite snug for two people. She glanced past his large body, and he stepped back into the hall.
“Brennen, I mean, Mr. Bergen and I were discussing the First Grade Colorado Fact Competition.”
Cadence nodded. “It’s no joke. The entire school and all the first-grade parents come to watch.”
Brennen nodded. “Yeah, that’s how I remember it from when I was in first grade.”
“You went to school here and competed in this when you were a kid?” Abby asked.
He blushed. “I told you, you might be better off than you think.”
Cadence glanced between them, a slight twist to her grin. “Well, you won’t be better off if we’re late for primary grades tutoring time. I signed us up to do it this morning.”
“You did?”
Man Fast: Bergen Brothers: Book One Page 6