Man Feast (Bergen Brothers Book 2) Read online

  “And this is why we limit my mom to one glass of wine,” Elle said with a teary shake of her head.

  But when Elle met her mother’s gaze, the bond between mother and daughter was palpable.

  “I think I’ve had about all the Crock-Pot chicken I can handle,” Elle said, taking her plate over to the sink.

  “Honey, don’t worry about the dishes. You and Jasper should take a walk up to town.” She turned to him. “Is it true? You don’t have a favorite flavor of ice cream?”

  “Um, no,” he answered.

  “That’s what Abby said,” Lila replied, pursing her lips. “We can’t have that! It’s a lovely evening. Finish up your dinner, and then you and Eleanor can take a walk up to town and get some ice cream.”

  He nodded and made a mental note to hire Lila Reynolds. There was no way he could say no to her—and he was the king of saying no. Now he saw where Elle got her commanding presence.

  Elle picked up her mother’s plate and set it in the sink. “Mom, Jasper needs to get to the resort. I’m sure he’s got work to do.”

  “It can wait.” He could hardly believe he’d uttered those words.

  Elle narrowed her gaze. “Are you sure?”

  This conversation went deeper than just discussing a trip to an ice cream parlor.

  He swallowed past the lump in his throat, past the guilt he’d carried all these years.

  “I’m sure.”

  13

  Elle

  Elle pulled up her hood and inhaled the crisp night air.

  New England cold was a different kind of cold compared to Colorado. Instead of the dry Rocky Mountain air she’d grown used to since she moved to Denver last year, Vermont’s chilly nights, with the hint of humidity, always made her think a snowstorm was just around the corner.

  She listened to the sound of her footsteps next to Jasper’s and hated herself for finding comfort in their rhythmic beat.

  What the hell was happening? How did Jasper Bergen end up eating dinner at her mother’s kitchen table?

  She knew the answer to that—her sweet as honey cousin. If she didn’t love Abby like a little sister, she’d be itching to wring her neck.

  Abby may be over the moon in love with her Bergen brother, but that did not mean that she’d wanted one for herself too.

  Or did she?

  She released a breath and watched as the condensation appeared and disappeared in the glow of Main Street as they approached Fell’s Peak’s town square.

  Separated by a few miles, the town of Fell’s Peak was located just off the main highway while the Bergen Ski Resort was situated closer to the base of the mountain.

  “Your mom’s great,” Jasper said, breaking into her thoughts.

  She glanced up. “Yeah, she is. She’s doing well now.”

  “What do you mean, now?”

  “We didn’t know what was wrong with her for many years. Luckily, she was referred to a really good neurologist, and that’s when we found out she had Multiple Sclerosis. It’s a condition where your body starts attacking your nervous system. That’s why she needs the walker.”

  “That had to be hard to learn.”

  She shook her head. “No, it was a relief to finally have an answer. She started treatment and has been stable for a while now. She doesn’t let it hold her back. She’s the strongest person I know.”

  “You’re a lot like her,” Jasper replied.

  “I’m not so sure about that,” she answered.

  “Is your dad around?”

  She resisted the urge to spew profanity. “Oh, he’s around.”

  “In Vermont?”

  “No, Paris.”

  “Paris?”

  “Yes, he’s a genetics researcher. He’s shacked up with one of his doctoral students there.”

  “Jesus, I’m sorry, Elle.”

  She shook her head. “Don’t be. We’re better off without him.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Six years ago, I was in London. He was doing a guest lecture series at Cambridge, and I’d decided to go there and surprise him. Except I was the one who got the surprise.”

  “What happened?”

  “Giselle happened.”

  “The doctoral student?”

  “Yep, they were making out in the parking lot like teenagers. My first instinct was to get out of there and try to process whatever the hell that was. This was right after my mom got her Multiple Sclerosis diagnosis, and I think that’s what threw me over the edge.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I walked right up to them and tapped my dad on the shoulder.”

  “Christ,” Jasper replied.

  “He was shaken—to say the least. He took me to a coffee shop and swore it was just a fling and that he’d end it. He said he didn’t know how to deal with my mom’s condition and that he’d made a terrible mistake. He begged me not to tell my mother, and I didn’t—until I caught him again.”

  “Was it the same woman?”

  She nodded. “My dad always traveled a lot for work. Speaking engagements. Collaborating with other researchers. When I was growing up, he could be gone for months at a time, but he always called, and things seemed okay between him and my mom.”

  She glanced up at Jasper. He nodded, giving her space to keep going.

  “Almost a year ago, I did the same damn thing. I showed up to one of his lectures unannounced, and there was Giselle. He saw me in the back of the auditorium, and his expression said everything. Then, I did a little bit of digging and found out they were living together. I flew back to Maine that day. I told my mom everything, and then I called my business manager and had him transfer funds into a trust in both of our names. She filed for divorce a few months later.”

  “You’re supporting her?”

  She shrugged. “My mom didn’t want anything from my dad, and she couldn’t manage on her own. They had some money set aside, but researchers—especially ones with mistresses—don’t have a lot of cash on hand and helping her out is the least I could do. With my dad gone so much, she put her career aside to raise me. She didn’t want to stay in the house she shared with my dad in Maine. So, I asked her, if she could live anywhere, where would it be? She said Fell’s Peak. This was like our second home. My dad didn’t ski, and he was gone so much anyways, this became our special place. That’s why I freaked out when my hat blew off when we’d stopped on the side of the road.”

  “The Fell’s Peak hat?” he said, connecting the dots.

  She sighed. The day on the side of the road felt like it had happened months not days ago.

  “My mom got me that hat on what turned out to be our last ski trip. After that, she started having health problems, and we never skied together again.”

  Jasper nodded but remained quiet.

  “That was probably more information than you wanted. Even Abby doesn’t know all the ugly details.”

  He offered her his arm, and she took it without thinking. He was only being kind, but it steadied her, nonetheless.

  “We’re kind of alike in that way,” he said.

  “Good at holding it all inside?” she asked.

  He gazed down at her. “Something like that.”

  They turned onto Main Street and blended in with all the tourists in town for the last few days of the ski season. They passed the Mom and Pop hardware store when the hanging sign for the Lucky Scoop Ice Cream Parlor came into view.

  “You really don’t have a favorite fl—” she began but stopped at the sight of a woman holding a baby.

  “What is it, Elle?” Jasper asked.

  The woman’s features hardened. “Tate!” she called.

  A man got out of a parked car, accompanied by a young boy. “What is it, Laura?”

  Elle froze and cursed karma. She’d just outed her father as a cheater and had just exposed Giselle as a harlot sleeping with a married man.

  Elle stared at the glaring woman. This must have been the way she’d looked at Gisel
le.

  The revulsion.

  The disgust.

  But she deserved it, too.

  Tate and the boy joined them on the sidewalk.

  The man looked from his wife to her, his Adam’s apple straining as he swallowed. He glanced over his shoulder at Lucky’s. “We were about to get ice cream.”

  The banality of those words underscored that this was the first time she’d seen Tate since Laura had caught them together.

  She tightened her grip on Jasper’s arm. “Do you live in Fell’s Peak?” She had to ask.

  “It’s none of your business where we live,” Laura said, lip trembling.

  Tate put a hand on his wife’s back. “No, we don’t live here. We’re on vacation. It’s our last night in town.”

  Laura sniffed. “If you must know, we live in upstate New York. And we’re very happy, no thanks to you!”

  The four adults stood silent. Humiliation tore through her. If it weren’t for Jasper reaching over and covering her hand with his, she might have imploded like one of those dilapidated buildings deemed unworthy.

  Jasper met her gaze with more kindness than she deserved. “We need to get going,” he said, then turned to a dumbfounded Tate and his scowling wife. “Enjoy your ice cream, and your last evening in Fell’s Peak.”

  And it was over.

  Jasper led her away from Tate and his wife. “It’s okay,” he said in a low voice as they continued down the street.

  She willed herself to stop trembling, then pointed to a dive bar across the street.

  “That’s exactly where I was headed,” he answered, his even tone calming her frayed nerves.

  They crossed the street and entered the tavern. Classic rock layered with sounds of conversation and laughter surrounded them as Jasper took her coat then gestured to a stool before joining her at the bar.

  “Tequila?” he asked.

  She held his gaze. “I’m waiting for you to make that face.”

  “What face?”

  That judgmental, rigid, I know better than you, CEO face.

  He signaled to the bartender. “Whatever the hell that was back there, I think we’re well past that face.”

  She slumped forward.

  “Two tequila shots,” Jasper said, but she stopped him.

  “Just a club soda for me.”

  He eyed her wearily.

  “I might be able to drink a crew of Somali pirates under the table, but I can’t be hung over on camera tomorrow.”

  He turned to the barman. “Club soda for the lady. I’ll still take those two shots.”

  She leaned onto her elbows. “I’m sure you’ve figured out by now that I slept with that woman’s husband.”

  “It certainly didn’t look like you were old friends,” he replied, his expression neutral.

  The fight drained from her body. Whatever lecture he had in store for her, she deserved it. She released a heavy sigh. “You must think I’m a hypocrite.”

  He rolled up the sleeves, exposing the muscular forearms that had held her close, and undid the top button of his dress shirt. Looking all deliciously business casual, he held her gaze. “I think things are more complicated than they seem.”

  She closed her eyes, as if that could keep the memories at bay. “I didn’t know he had a family.”

  The bartender placed their drinks in front of them.

  She lifted the glass and took a sip. “Tate’s a photographer. I got paired with him to work on a project for a travel magazine about five years ago. It seemed like a dream assignment, traipsing across Italy, going vineyard to vineyard. By the end of the first week, we started sharing a hotel room. When you spend so much time together, things can get intense quickly.”

  He stared at her, biting back a grin.

  Of course, he understood. They’d embarked on their man feast Monday, and today was only Wednesday.

  She took another sip of the club soda, wishing she could drown herself in tequila.

  “Tate’s wife showed up at the little bed-and-breakfast we were staying at in Siena. The magazine booked two rooms, but we’d always stay in his.” She steadied herself as the images of that day flashed through her mind. “The innkeeper let her into the room, and she caught us in bed. It turned out, she was also pregnant. She was there to surprise him with the news.”

  Jasper watched her with that same neutral expression, giving her nothing. Without a word, he knocked back one shot, then the other, then got up and disappeared into the crowd of people surrounding the bar.

  She sat there, dumbfounded. What was she supposed to do, laugh or cry? She’d spilled her guts to a man who made her crazy in every way. One minute, she was ready to hand him her heart, then next, the stoic, stuffy bastard was lucky she didn’t punch his lights out.

  She folded her arms and dropped her chin to her chest. Even Elle Reynolds, piss and vinegar fueled Elle Reynolds, wasn’t completely bulletproof. She gave herself a moment, then lifted her chin, ready to leave the tin man’s ass at that bar. She knocked back the last of her club soda and headed toward the exit when the eighties rock ballad booming through the speakers cut off abruptly.

  She glanced over at the dance floor where couples and groups of people once swaying to Steven Tyler stood with their mouths hanging open, looking around like goldfish plucked out of the water. The confusion grew when the catchy sound of lively trumpets woven with a spicy Latin beat and that unmistakable quick, quick, slow salsa rhythm floated through the air as the first lines of “Brujería”—their song from the cabin—resonated over the sound system.

  Conversations stopped as everyone in the bar stilled—except for one person.

  In the middle of the dance floor, hand extended toward her, was Jasper Bergen salsa dancing.

  “Are you going to make me do this all by myself?” he called as the patrons watched their exchange.

  All the shame and humiliation she’d carried over Tate and all the anger and disappointment she’d felt toward her father lifted as tears threatened to fall. She blinked them back, her heart in her throat. She walked toward him, and the crowd parted like a bad chick flick, making a path straight to Jasper.

  She’d given him such shit. Called him a robot. A hollow bunny.

  She was wrong.

  When she needed him the most, he was measured and balanced. Composed and pragmatic.

  She closed the distance between them, one shaky step at a time, took his hand, and let him lead as they salsa danced alone under a lopsided disco ball.

  “Am I doing this right, Eleanor? Last time we did this, I’d had considerably more tequila.”

  “You’re doing fine.” She shook her head in disbelief. “How in the hell did you get them to play this song?”

  He bit back a grin. “I found the owner of the bar and offered to buy the next round for the entire place.”

  “And?” she pressed. They were in rural Vermont. Blasting salsa music in a locals’ dive bar would take a hell of a lot more than buying a round of drinks.

  “And I agreed to pay his lease this month.”

  She cocked her head to the side.

  A sly smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth. “And the next month.”

  She stared at this man who seemed to know exactly what she needed. “Why would you do all this?”

  He pulled her in closer. “I needed you in a better headspace so I could tell you something, and you’d believe me.”

  “And you thought salsa dancing was the way to do it?” she asked, her words infused with wonder.

  His expression grew earnest. “I’m improvising. Going off-plan. I’m stepping out of my comfort zone because this is important.”

  “What’s so important?”

  His gaze softened. “You’re not your father, Eleanor. And that man’s wife may blame you for her husband’s infidelity, but she’s wrong. He kept you in the dark. I know that if you had known he was married, you would have never gotten involved with him. It’s not who you are.”

  She
held his gaze, her vision growing glassy.

  He stopped dancing and leaned in. “You are a remarkable woman. You’re talented, and you’re not only devoted to your mother. I know how you took in Abby when she first got to Denver. I know how you were the catalyst in getting my brother to shape up and be the man your cousin deserves. You’re selfless. You’re also a giant pain in my ass. You make me question everything.” He cupped her cheek in his hand and brushed away her tears. “You are the most infuriating person I have ever met, and I wouldn’t change one damn thing about you.”

  “You wouldn’t?” she whispered.

  “No, and now, I’m going to kiss you.”

  “Is this another man feast extension?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “We’re done with that. It’s over.”

  The song ended, and no one in the entire bar moved a muscle.

  He brushed his thumb across her trembling bottom lip. “I’ve been under your spell from the moment I laid eyes on you, Eleanor. I’m tired of fighting it. I’m tired of denying my feelings for you. I’m tired of pretending whatever it is between us is something that can be flicked on and off like a light switch. Say you want this. Say you want me just like I want you.”

  She stared into his eyes as the disco ball cast them in a blanket of twinkling lights. A week ago—no, three days ago—she would have laughed in the face of anyone who said she and Jasper would end up like this, professing their feelings for each other while salsa dancing in Vermont.

  “Kiss him, Eleanor!” came a loud shriek from the bar.

  Elle looked around at the dozens of pairs of eyes glued on them.

  “Yeah, Eleanor! Go for it!” came another voice from the crowd.

  She bit her lip, giddy with excitement, her heart about to burst.

  “Girl, if you don’t want him, I’ll take him!” came another shout.

  She held Jasper’s gaze. “I want him.”

  A mischievous glint sparked in his eyes. “Are you sure? There will be spreadsheets.”

  She stared at this man who surprised her at every turn. “I’m sure.”

  The sweetest smile bloomed on his lips, then his expression darkened, and his gaze grew heated. She barely had a second to take a breath before their lips met in a crash of relief and desire and anticipation as the crowd broke out into cheers.