Her eyes went wide. “You really know all this?”
“After today, you’re going to doubt my history skills?” he teased.
She gazed up at him through long eyelashes, and damn if it wasn’t sexy. “Never again. Please, proceed.”
He gave what he hoped looked like a scholarly nod. “In the 1850s, it was the main business center for a few decades. But by the 1900s, it fell into disrepair and turned into a total shit show.”
She stopped and gave him her teacher stare. He’d seen her use it a few times today—her Jedi mind control on par with Obi-Wan Kenobi.
“It was in bad shape,” he amended.
“There you go,” she said, biting back a grin.
He held back one of his own. Fuck—flip! Her prim and proper vibe had his heart rate kicking up a notch. He tried to get it under control.
“Back in the sixties, they wanted to demolish the buildings in the whole area. My grandparents were a part of a group of preservationists and business owners who wanted to keep Larimer Square and its history. They worked to secure funding and redevelop the area. And now, it’s…”
They turned the corner and came upon the quaint splendor of Larimer Square at night. With its nineteenth-century, two-and three-story buildings lining the block and white strings of lights spanning the width of the street, he gazed up. A sight he’d seen thousands of times, but tonight it looked brighter, more alive, more majestic.
Abby gasped. “It’s magical.”
The streets had been plowed, but a fresh dusting of feathery-white snow still blanketed the road. The ice-encased branches of the trees dotting the sidewalk sparkled in the glow of the twinkling lights above.
Pressure on his arm pulled his gaze away from the historic block. Eyes wide, Abby had grabbed onto him, taking it all in.
“It’s really beautiful,” she said, her voice barely a whisper as if she were paying it her respect.
He watched her drink in the architecture, the shops, the spindly trees, the snow-covered benches—all while clutching his arm.
“It’s one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen,” he said, gaze trained on her smiling face.
She glanced up as a gust of wind blew her chestnut hair across her face. She brushed the long locks back. Christ! How he wanted to run his fingers through her hair, cup her face in his hands, and gaze into her eyes. Experiencing the world through another person was a rush he’d never known.
“Sorry,” she said and released her grip on his arm.
“No worries,” he answered, already missing her touch.
She nodded and wrapped her arms around her body as a shiver ran through her.
“You need a better coat, and a hat, and real boots, and —”
“And food,” she said, cutting him off, teeth chattering.
“Come on, ice cube. One of my favorite restaurants is just past this shop.”
He pressed his hand to her back, and she didn’t pull away. She was probably too damned cold to feel it, but he liked having her close. If it took twelve degrees to get her by his side, he’d gladly freeze.
He opened the door to a cozy bistro. “This place is owned by the chef. It’s the best Mediterranean food I’ve ever had, and I’ve been all over the Mediterranean.”
She rubbed her hands together. “It smells amazing.”
And gloves. She needed gloves.
The hostess nodded to him and picked up two menus. She led them to a small table tucked in the back. He helped Abby out of her jacket, handed their coats to the hostess, then took the seat across from her.
She leaned forward, and the trio of votive candles in the center of the table highlighted the curve of her neck. “Do you come here a lot?”
He pulled his gaze from her creamy skin. “Yeah, quite a bit. The restaurant caters a lot of Bergen events. My grandparents love this place. The ricotta gnocchi will change your life.”
She balanced her chin on her hand. “I could certainly use some change in my life.”
“Is that why you moved in with your cousin?”
She stared at him. “How did you know I moved in with my cousin?”
The last thing he needed was for her to think he was some kind of lunatic stalker.
He smiled and hoped it didn’t look like a stalker smile. “Today, when you were sort of freaking out about the Colorado fact competition, you said the only places you’ve been so far were your cousin’s apartment, Whitmore, and the corner market.”
“Oh, right! I think I tried to block out that part of the day.”
A waiter appeared and set two glasses of water on the table. “Nice to see you, Mr. Bergen. Are you ready to order?”
Abby opened the menu. “I know you said the gnocchi is life changing, but the artichoke tortellini sounds amazing. Do you want to get both and share?”
He wanted to get it to-go and eat it off her body in his penthouse. “The tortellini and the gnocchi,” he said to the waiter instead.
“The lady has excellent taste,” the waiter added. “Anything from the bar?”
“Wine?” Brennen asked.
She bit her lip then gave him a naughty grin. “It’s a school night. But one glass couldn’t hurt.”
“Two glasses of your Bellevue Old Vine Cabernet,” he said as the waiter nodded and headed toward the kitchen.
Abby leaned in. “You remembered correctly. I’m living with my cousin,” she said with a grin that reached her eyes. “We’re both an only child, and she’s more like a sister. I grew up in Florida, but we spent every summer at her house in Maine until I was thirteen. My mother and her mother were sisters.”
He frowned. “Were sisters?”
Abby’s expression grew guarded. “My mom passed away when I was fourteen.”
He swallowed hard. “I’m sorry.”
“She was hit by a drunk driver on her morning run. It was just me and my dad after that. He didn’t cope very well, and we moved around a bunch.”
“Where’s he now?”
Abby shook her head with a resigned expression. “A fishing boat in Alaska.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, he used to be an accountant. Punctual. Dependable. He fell apart after my mom died.”
“But you didn’t.”
She looked confused. “Didn’t what?”
“Fall apart.”
“Somebody had to make sure the electric bill got paid.” She paused. “When I googled you, I read your parents were in a car accident.”
That’s all anyone knew. His grandparents had made sure of that.
He stared at the candles. “Yes, they passed away a little over a decade ago.”
“I’m sorry, Brennen.”
He looked up. “I like the way you say my name.”
“You do?”
“Yeah, you say it with such kindness.”
She gave him a sweet smile. “I’ve never met anyone who didn’t deserve a little kindness.”
He stared at her. Who was this woman? This woman who seemed to be able to see right to his very core.
The waiter was back with their wine, and Abby shifted her gaze from him and thanked the man.
She took a sip. “Should we pick a less morbid topic?”
He nodded, still a bit shaken as to how easy it was to let his guard down with her.
She tapped the table, thinking. “Tell me about growing up in Denver. And make sure you sprinkle in a few Colorado facts.”
“It’s a pretty flipping great place.” He narrowed his gaze. “Did you see what I did there with the flipping?”
She giggled, and the sound went right to his cock. “Yes, you’re a quick learner.”
He leaned in. “I was on skis before I could walk. Summers were spent hiking, climbing, rafting, and mountain biking. We were always outdoors. My younger brother, Camden, I swear, the kid didn’t know indoor plumbing existed until he went to kindergarten at Whitmore.”
Her eyes sparkled. “That sounds really amazing.”
; “It was. I’ll be the first to admit, we grew up wanting for nothing, but my parents and grandparents wanted us to understand that money wasn’t everything and that we needed to have balance in our lives.”
She watched him closely. “Do you have balance?”
When he looked at her, he did. “I’m sort of a work in progress.”
“Me too,” she said, holding up her glass.
He clinked his with hers. “Is that why you’re doing the man fast?”
“Is that why you’re doing the woman fast?” she asked with a mischievous expression.
“We’ve got artichoke tortellini and ricotta gnocchi,” a voice said, but it wasn’t their waiter.
Gram?
“And two plates to share,” said his grandad, coming up next to his grandmother.
Brennen stood and kissed his grandmother’s cheek. “What are you two doing here?”
“We were having dinner in the kitchen at the chef’s table. Your waiter told us you were here.”
His grandmother turned to Abby. “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Harriet Bergen and this is my husband, Ray.”
“Gram, Grandad, this is Abby Quinn. She’s the teacher I’ve been assigned to work with at Whitmore.”
Abby stood and shook their hands. “Would you like to join us?”
Oh shit! Nothing like being out with a beautiful woman and having your grandparents crash.
His grandfather gave Abby a warm smile. “We just finished dinner, but we could join you for a bit.”
“So how is our Brennen doing volunteering at Whitmore?” Gram asked, settling into a chair.
“He’s been a lifesaver,” Abby gushed.
His grandparents glanced his way.
His grandad raised an eyebrow. “Really?”
“Oh, yes! You see, I just moved to Colorado less than two weeks ago. Today was my second day teaching first grade at Whitmore, and I had no idea that there was a First Grade Colorado Fact Competition at the school. I don’t know anything about this state, and I wasn’t sure where to start. But Brennen was amazing. He found ways to teach the children different facts all throughout the day during every subject.”
“He did?” Gram asked, keeping him in the corner of her eye.
Abby nodded. “We’re actually having a working dinner—that’s why your grandson suggested we eat here, in Larimer Square, because of its historical significance to the city.”
Gram’s expression remained neutral. “Is that so?”
Brennen bit back a smile. “Did you doubt me, Gram?”
“I’m not surprised. You did win the fact competition when you were in first grade,” she replied.
Abby’s eyes went wide. “You did? You didn’t mention that.”
“All my grandson’s won. My son was quite a Colorado history buff,” his grandmother added.
“That’s what Brennen was telling me today. He mentioned his father used to quiz them on Colorado trivia all the time.”
“Did he now?” Grandad said, sharing another look with Gram.
It was like telepathy with these two. Within seconds, both his grandparents came to their feet.
His grandmother gave them a warm smile. “Well, we certainly don’t want to interrupt your working dinner, and I’d hate for your food to get cold. It was lovely meeting you, Abby.”
“Absolutely!” Grandad continued. “Welcome to Colorado, dear. I’m sure we’ll be seeing you soon.”
“It was a pleasure meeting you both. You’ll have to drop by Whitmore sometime and see your grandson in action,” Abby said.
His grandmother squeezed Abby’s hand. “We certainly will. Thank you for the invitation.”
Brennen stood and turned to Abby. “I’m going to walk my grandparents out.”
“Sure, I’ll make us each a plate while you’re gone.”
He followed his grandparents out of the restaurant, and relief flooded his system. That didn’t go too badly.
Gram narrowed her gaze. “She’s very pretty, Brennen. And very sweet,” she added as their driver pulled up in the Bergen town car.
He grinned. “And completely focused on her job. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that it’s no easy feat taking over a first-grade class midway through the year.” He paused. “Hold on, Gram. I just thought of something.” He took out his phone and hammered out a text. He looked up to see his grandparents eyeing him suspiciously.
“Another date lined up after the teacher,” his grandad asked.
He slid his phone back into his pocket. “No, Colorado fact stuff. That’s all.”
Gram pursed her lips. “You seem to be taking this very seriously.”
“Everybody deserves a chance to make it right,” he said, recycling Abby’s words. “You wanted me to prove my commitment to the company, and this is my chance, right?”
The driver opened the car door.
His grandad threw him a wink. “It’s a step in the right direction, Bren,” he said, then helped his gram into the backseat.
Brennen watched the car disappear down Larimer Street, rubbed his chilled arms, then hurried back inside. He got to the table and had to hold back a chuckle. Abby sat, eyes closed, holding an empty fork an inch from her mouth. She gave a little sigh then blinked.
Her hand flew to her mouth. “I’m sorry that I started without you. It smelled so good. I had to try a little bite.”
He sat down and looked at the plate she’d made him. “You gave me more.”
“Think of it like a ratio. For every one of me, there’s at least two of you. Maybe three.”
“You are kind of tiny.”
The sweetest look of mock outrage crossed her face. “Maybe you’re just too big,” she said, eyes twinkling in the candlelight. “Now, you have to start eating. You must be starving.”
They talked all through dinner. She told him about sailing trips with her parents and summers spent picking wild blackberries with her cousin in Maine. She’d been teaching for four years, mostly substituting, and when she spoke about her students, you would have thought they were her own flesh and blood.
Abby set down her fork. “I don’t think I can eat another bite.”
“I told you, the food here is flipping delicious.”
She leaned in, cheeks rosy from the wine, and lowered her voice. “It is fucking delicious.”
His eyes went wide. “Is that the first time you’ve ever dropped an F-bomb?”
This girl!
She shook her head. “No, I’m not as squeaky clean as you may think.”
She was right about that. He’d thought about a lot of dirty things when it came to her.
“Say it again,” he challenged.
“Fucking d—! Oh!” she exclaimed, turning bright red as the waiter walked up, his eyebrows up to his hairline.
“Yes, well, I just wanted to let you know your grandparents took care of the bill.”
Brennen nodded to the man, biting back a laugh. “Thank you for letting us know,” he said as the waiter turned and headed off toward another table.
“Look, you’ve scarred him for life with your foul mouth,” he said, getting a kick out of Abby’s total mortification.
She pasted her lips shut and covered them with both hands. “Oh my gosh!”
“Abby, I’m kidding. Believe me, I’m sure the man has heard worse. In fact, I know he has. I eat here all the time.”
“Let’s go,” she whispered.
“Are you ready to fucking go?” he asked, possibly a decibel louder than socially acceptable.
She held back a giggle and nodded, all laughing eyes and pink cheeks. They got their coats from the hostess, but when Abby went to leave, he rested his hand on her shoulder.
“Wait here. I’ll pull the car up.”
She cocked her head to the side. “It’s just around the block. I’ll be fine.”
“Do I need to drop some more public profanity?” he asked, only half kidding.
She gave him a playful push toward th
e door. “Fine! You win! I’ll wait.”
He strode down the pavement, wishing he could start skipping or do one of those stupid jump and click your heels moves.
He’d never had an evening with a woman like this. Most dates—if that’s what you’d call them—consisted of him jacking around on his phone while some woman updated her social media accounts, tagging him. And then they’d fuck.
He got into his car, cranked up the heat, and turned on the seat warmers. It took barely a minute before he pulled up in front of the restaurant, but Abby was already outside, gazing up at the strings of lights.
He hopped out of the car. “It’s freezing out here. You should have waited inside.”
He opened her car door, and she slid into the seat. “I just wanted one more look.”
“We can come back anytime,” he said before he could stop himself.
Her expression grew serious.
“To talk about all the volunteer activities. You know, work stuff,” he added, doing a crap job of showing her this wasn’t a date.
She smiled, but it wasn’t the real smile he’d seen all night. “Right! Of course.”
He closed her door and got into the car.
Flip! He was an idiot!
He merged into traffic, and they made their way back to The Dalton, neither saying a word. He pulled into the parking garage and cut the ignition when his phone started pinging. He glanced at it, and his mood instantly improved.
She fiddled with the cuff of her jacket. “Plans for later?”
“Nope,” he said, getting out, purposefully not elaborating and went to the back to get her bag.
She nodded, and they walked in silence to the elevator.
He shifted her bag to his shoulder. “Do you mind if we stop in the lobby. I need to check the mail.”
“I don’t mind at all,” she said and pressed the lobby button.
He glanced at her. Something was on her mind. The easy banter they’d had all through dinner was gone. Did she think he was going to meet another woman later? Did that bother her? Did he like that it might bother her? Jesus! He was all over the place!
The elevator doors opened, and they entered The Dalton’s glittering lobby. He went to his mailbox then glanced over at the concierge desk where Harvey the doorman eyed a large box with irritation.
“You’re Abby Quinn? The one squatting in 11B with Elle Reynolds?” the man called out.
Man Fast: Bergen Brothers: Book One Page 8