Man Find (Bergen Brothers Book 3)

by Krista Sandor

  He glanced behind the desk. “There’s something back there. A little box.”

  He crouched down and reached behind the desk and pulled it out. Covered in a layer of thick dust, he held it out to show Cadence.

  She shrieked as the squirrel box jostled in her arms. “Just put it in the desk. I’ve found all sorts of bits and bobs in the houses. It’s probably nothing.” She shrieked again and tightened her hold on the box. “We need to get Bonnie and Clyde Squirrel outside.”

  He lifted the door to the desk and set the box inside then turned to Cadence. “Here, hand me the outlaws.”

  “Thanks, I’ll get the door,” she said with a chuckle, doing a little jog that had him repeating the try not to kill the squirrels mantra. He was here to find Daisy, not fall ass over elbow for Cadence Lowry.

  He followed her down the rear porch steps and into the yard.

  He started to open the box, but she stopped him.

  “Should we say something first?”

  “To who?” he asked. He respected nature and wildlife, sure. But a send-off speech for two wayward squirrels seemed a little much.

  She gestured toward the box and then to the starry sky. “To the squirrels? To the universe? Something to wish them well.”

  He glanced down at the box. “I’m glad we didn’t have to kill you guys.”

  “Really glad,” Cadence added, nodding.

  He set the box on the ground and took a step back. It toppled over onto its side as the inhabitants scurried out and high-tailed it up the trunk of an old beech tree on the far side of the yard.

  “Have a good life,” Cadence called as the squirrel duo disappeared into the dark canopy of leaves.

  They stood in silence, bathed in the dim glow of the porch light, when she turned and looked him up and down.

  “Do you want some help with that?”

  Holy shit! Was she talking about his erection?

  She chuckled. “Your beard. There’s a decent chunk missing. It looks like you were trying to trim it.”

  He touched the wild mass of facial hair. “Oh, my beard, right!”

  Her cute frown face was back. “What did you think I was talking about?”

  Not my damn beard.

  “Sorry, I was still thinking about…the squirrels.”

  She chewed her lip like she was mulling something over. “I owe you for saving me from the squirrels. Why don’t you come in? I’ve got everything we need to get you cleaned up inside my place.”

  He glanced down at his half-naked body. “Should I put on some clothes?”

  She reached up and felt his face and the breath caught in his throat—blood diverting from his brain and heading south.

  Try not to kill the squirrels. Try not to kill the squirrels.

  “How much do you want taken off?”

  He swallowed hard. “Most of it.”

  She held back a grin. “Done with the Hagrid look?”

  He chuckled, appreciating the Harry Potter reference. “Yeah.”

  “It may get messy with that much coming off. You’re better off like this, so you don’t get hair all over your clothes.”

  He couldn’t argue with that.

  He followed her back into the house. He liked following her—liked watching the swing of her hips and the bounce of all that golden hair. He shook his head. He could not go down that road. She was a friend of his family. Definitely not the clean slate he’d traveled across the ocean to find.

  She led him into her bedroom and into the tiny bathroom and pointed to the pink toilet. “Sit.”

  She opened a cabinet, pulled out scissors and electric clippers, and set them on the edge of the sink then leaned in and pressed her lips together, assessing the mess of hair.

  “I think I’ll start with the scissors. Take some length off and clean it up with the clippers.”

  He stared into her sky-blue eyes. Had she said she was going to dye his hair hot pink and sprinkle glitter on his beard, he would have agreed.

  “Let’s find your face,” she added with a sweet smile and picked up the scissors.

  She cupped his cheek in her hand, and it took everything he had not to close his eyes and melt into her touch. When was the last time he’d encountered such tenderness? Not from the women he’d been with over the years. That had only been sex. No, just fucking. Two people who needed to satisfy a primal urge. Not intimacy. Not lovemaking.

  The snip of the scissors pulled him from his thoughts. Cadence stroked his beard, cutting off the scraggly length. Her face inches from his, the tip of her pink tongue peeked out from between her plump lips as she concentrated.

  “Have you done this before?” he asked.

  She grinned. “For my grandfather, back when I was a teenager.”

  “But not anymore? Do they not live around here?”

  Her expression darkened. “No, I’m from Grand Junction, but he passed away a few years before my grandmother when I was a freshman in college.”

  “I’m sorry, Cadence. What about your parents? Are they out in Grand Junction, too?”

  Her throat constricted as she swallowed. “Never knew them. My grandparents raised me.”

  No wonder she gave him shit about his family in the car. At least he had one.

  “Now hold still. I can’t be responsible for damaging the face of one of the legendary Bergen brothers.”

  One of the Bergen brothers.

  He hadn’t thought of himself as part of Denver’s most prominent family in a long, long time.

  A quick series of snips cut through the silence as she worked, and he couldn’t take his eyes off her. His pulse quickened, and when she ran her tongue across her top lip, he balled his hands into tight fists. Christ, how he wanted to touch her! She moved in closer, straddling his leg, and filthy thoughts invaded his mind. All it would take was one tiny movement to have her on his lap. All he’d have to do was grip her hips, press his fingertips into those perfect curves and pull her close. His cock was all for that idea.

  “Ground control to Major Camden,” Cadence said softly.

  He blinked.

  “Ten inches,” she added with a grin.

  He glanced at his lap. Did she see his…

  “I took about ten inches off your beard with the scissors. I was going to start in with the clippers to clean it up. Are you ready?” she asked, a slight crease to her brow.

  Sweet baby Jesus!

  He cleared his throat. “Yeah.”

  The sharp buzz of the blades tickled his skin, and he shifted, making damn sure the towel was still covering his hard length. Cadence set her hand on his shoulder as she worked, and her touch sent a rush of heat through his body. He couldn’t take much more of this. He’d been celibate for almost a year for Daisy. He couldn’t do anything to undermine his devotion to her.

  The buzzing stopped, and she stepped back, assessing her work. “How about a little haircut while we’re at it?”

  He should say no. He should thank her for getting his beard under control and go back to his side of the house. Then he met her gaze, and he was powerless.

  “Sure, a trim would be great.”

  She ran her fingers through his hair, and he inhaled a sharp breath.

  “Am I hurting you,” she asked.

  “No, I just haven’t had anyone…”

  “It’s okay,” she said. “I’ll be gentle.”

  He closed his eyes as she leaned in with the scissors. Her warm breath tickling the shell of his ear.

  Try not to kill the squirrels. Try not to kill the squirrels.

  “What was that?” Cadence asked.

  Crap! Had he said that out loud?

  “Nothing,” he mumbled, keeping his eyes shut.

  The snipping stopped, and Cadence pulled back.

  “Open your eyes,” she said softly.

  He did as she asked, then took in another sharp breath. She’d held out a mirror, and if it weren’t for his steel-blue eyes, he wouldn’t have recognized the face in fr
ont of him. He glanced up at her.

  “You clean up nicely, Camden Bergen,” she said with a smile, but he’d swear there was a trace of sadness in her voice.

  He ran his hands down his cheeks and paid special attention to his chin, feeling the skin that had been buried under his beard for years.

  “I left a little bit of stubble. It suits you. Here, I’ll give you a second to get used to your new face.” She handed him the mirror and left the bathroom.

  It was wild! He hadn’t seen this version of himself since he was eighteen. He turned from side to side. She’d done a good job, and he was grateful she’d left a little scruff. He brushed his fingertips across his lips, no longer hidden by a mound of thick hair.

  “What do you think?” she asked, returning with a small dustpan and broom.

  “You do good work. Thank you.”

  She crouched down and started to sweep.

  He joined her on the floor. “Here, let me,” he said, taking the mini broom.

  She glanced at him and cringed.

  “What?”

  She dusted off his shoulders and chest. “I got hair everywhere. You must be so itchy.”

  Actually, he’d been so focused on her, the thought hadn’t crossed his mind until she mentioned it, and his skin started to crawl. He dumped a dustpan full of hair into the trash can then scratched at his chest.

  She was right! It was like being covered in ants.

  “Here,” she said, reaching into the shower and turning on the water. “I’ll give you some privacy, and you can rinse off.”

  The water trickled out, and she jiggled the handle. “That’s weird?” She stepped inside the shower. “I just replaced this showerhead.” She reached up and tapped it, and the showerhead came loose, squirting water in all directions.

  “Oh my God!” she called, shielding her face from the spray.

  “Scoot over!” He climbed into the tight space next to her and tried to reach past her to turn off the warm gush of water.

  Already drenched, she batted at the spray with her hands and scowled. “I did everything the guy in the video said to do! This is supposed to work!”

  “It may just need to be tightened,” he replied, growing wetter by the second.

  “No, I followed every step. It was working this morning!”

  He tried again to reach past her. “Cadence, turn off the water!”

  “No, it’s going to start working. It has to!”

  This was insane!

  “You can’t tell a showerhead to work properly! Stop being so stubborn. Turn it off, and I’ll take a look.”

  She was soaked, and his towel was growing wetter by the second. If he didn’t get this water situation under control pretty damn quick, the towel would fall, and he’d be naked.

  He gripped her hips and lifted her up and out of the spray of water.

  “What are you doing?” she shrieked.

  He pressed her back to the wall. Rivulets of water ran down her face, and the outline of a lacy bra appeared through her wet white T-shirt.

  It would take a towel the size of Texas to hide his erection now.

  He leaned in as drops of water running off his face trickled onto her chest. “Showerhead 101. We have to turn off the water. You can’t fix anything with it on.”

  She rested her hands on his chest, then parted her lips like she was about to protest, but nothing came out.

  He slid his hand from her waist and tucked a strand of blond hair behind her ear, his thumb trailing along her cheek.

  “But I watched a video on how to install it on the internet. The guy leading the tutorial said he was a licensed plumber,” she replied as she stared into his eyes, her voice taking on a dreamy quality.

  He brushed his thumb across her cheek, unable to stop himself. “You need to be careful with who you trust online. Not everybody is who they say they are.”

  “The guy seemed to know his stuff. He had over a thousand of those little thumbs-up on the video,” she countered.

  Her chest heaved with each breath as her breasts pressed against him, her body flush with his.

  Cam swallowed hard. He needed to focus. Think of Daisy. Fuck! Think of the damn squirrels.

  He released her body from his grip and pointed to the faulty showerhead.

  “I’d give the video this.” He gave her the hint of a smile and made a thumbs-down gesture.

  She sighed, then nodded. “I think you’re right.”

  They stood there like two people who weren’t sure how they’d ended up in a shower together but weren’t all that keen about getting out. He raised his hand, ready to tuck another lock of her golden hair behind her ear—his hands trembling with the need to touch her again.

  He flexed his fingers and willed them to behave. “Do you mind if I turn off the water?”

  Her eyes went wide. “Right! Go ahead!”

  He turned the handle to the off position, extinguishing the spray.

  She took a step back and twisted her wet hair into a bun, revealing the smooth skin and elegant curve of her neck. He glanced down at the outline of a chain with possibly a ring or some sort of round pendant. She caught his gaze, then pressed her hand over the object.

  “Let me get you a dry towel,” she said, her voice void of the dreamy wonder it possessed only moments ago.

  She pulled her robe off the hook on the wall and quickly put it on over her wet clothes, tying it tightly, then handed him a fluffy towel from a stack on the counter, barely making eye contact.

  “Just leave your wet towel. I’ll take care of it.”

  A switch had flipped, and they were back to business. Landlord and tenant.

  She left the bathroom, and he changed towels, trying to figure out what the hell had just happened in that shower.

  He hadn’t been that close to a woman in ages. He’d gone without physical contact for so long, and then there were the daydreams. He’d fantasized about Daisy’s hands. Daisy’s lips. He’d dreamed about her fingertips trailing across his body as she dropped a line of kisses down the hard plane of his abdomen. He didn’t have an actual picture of her in his head. Just the sense of her. Her spirit. Her heart. He could have projected that onto anyone, right?

  He secured the dry towel and glanced in the mirror. “Don’t kill the squirrels,” he whispered.

  He’d steer clear of Cadence Lowry. He was an expert at blocking people out. He’d work. He’d play along with Bren’s wedding plans, and he’d use every free moment he had to look for Daisy.

  He left the bathroom and found Cadence trying to move the secretary desk back into place.

  “Let me get that,” he said.

  She stepped back, and he slid the heavy piece of furniture into place.

  She chewed her lip. “Well, thank you for helping with the squirrels.”

  He ran his hand down his chin then crossed his arms, suddenly feeling very half-naked. “Yeah, thanks for getting me all cleaned up.”

  Christ, this had become awkward.

  He glanced around. “Is there anything else you need to be moved? A dresser?”

  What the hell was he doing? Stick to the plan. Get the hell out of there.

  She tightened the tie on her robe. “Um, not that I can think of, but thanks for offering.”

  He gestured toward the door. “Then I better…”

  “Yeah, I’ll walk you out,” she said and opened the door.

  He stepped onto the porch and bumped into a hanging swing which then knocked over a bike.

  Jesus, Bergen! Get it together!

  “Sorry about that,” he said, righting the bike then froze, unable to believe his eyes.

  In the dim light shining out from the front window, the white petals of delicate daisy stickers lined the bike’s handlebars. He angled them toward the light and blinked, not sure he could believe his eyes.

  What were the fucking chances?

  He turned to her, his pulse racing. “Is this your bike?”

  5

&
nbsp; Camden

  If he weren’t still standing, he would have sworn his heart had stopped beating.

  Cadence nodded and patted the seat. “Yes, this is my mountain bike.”

  “Have you been riding long?” he asked, gaze trained on the flowers and the unmistakable C and B glinting silver in the light.

  “No, I started about a year ago. I’m still a beginner.”

  Cadence’s voice sounded far off, like a whispered wish as blood whooshed through his ears.

  “Do you ride around here? Around Baxter Park?” He bit out the words, his throat tightening with emotion.

  “I do,” she answered, then touched his arm. “Are you all right, Camden?”

  He pulled his gaze from the handlebars to where her hand rested on his forearm.

  Mountain Daisy’s hand.

  He took her hand in his and stared at it. She was real. She was real and beautiful and kind.

  “It’s you,” he whispered.

  “Camden, do you need to lie down? Do you want me to call one of your brothers or your grandparents?”

  The bubble popped.

  He released her hand and stepped back. His brothers? His grandparents? How the hell was he supposed to have a fresh start with a woman so completely entwined with his family?

  Dammit! When she was Mountain Daisy, she was his. Only his. Uncomplicated. Always just a few clicks away.

  He took the porch steps two at a time. “No, I’m just tired. I should get some rest.”

  “Well, good night. Sweetest dreams,” she called from the porch.

  Fuck.

  Sweetest Dreams.

  If the bike, daisies, and initials weren’t enough, her nightly sign-off, sweetest dreams, sealed the damn deal. He followed the stone pavers to his unit, scaled the porch steps in one stride, and entered the house.

  He paced the living room and ran his hands through his hair. His now much shorter hair thanks to a haircut from…Mountain Daisy.

  Jesus! What happens now?

  He closed his eyes and pictured his parents. “You two have a real sense of humor! How can I start over with Cadence? You know I can’t stay in Denver with the world knowing I’m back. I can’t play the part of a good Bergen son because I’m not. You both know I’m not.”

  He walked into the bedroom and stared at the door that led to Cadence’s room. Two inches of solid oak separated him from her. Fucking hell! He’d left the safety of Switzerland. Nobody knew him there. Nobody expected anything more than a day’s work. He’d hoped he’d have that same luxury with Daisy.