Man Find (Bergen Brothers Book 3) Page 9

  “The lake!” she yelled, pushing her body as hard as she could.

  Bodhi had never kept going once he’d hit the grass. He usually bailed and tumbled off the bike, adding another scrape to his knees. But today, her determined boy wasn’t stopping.

  Neither was Camden.

  Arms slicing through the air as he ran, he hurdled over a poodle then weaved between a group of power walkers before hitting the grass and grabbing the seat of Bodhi’s runaway bicycle.

  “Whoa, there,” Camden said, taking a few steps as he slowed the bike to a stop.

  She ran to her son, heart pounding. “Are you hurt?”

  “That was awesome!” Bodhi cheered.

  She schooled her features. “Bodhi Lowry, that was not awesome. That was very unsafe. You could have hurt yourself or someone else.”

  He dropped his chin to his chest. “Sorry, Mommy.”

  She glanced up at Camden. “Thank you. I don’t know what I’d do if…”

  If what? If she lost her son, too? It was too painful to imagine.

  She released a shaky breath. “Let’s walk your bike to the tree, and I’ll put the training wheels back on.”

  “Mommy, why are you crying?”

  Oh no! She could not cry—especially in front of Camden Bergen.

  She brushed away the tears. “I’m just glad you’re okay, that’s all. Come on, we’ll try again tomorrow.”

  “You should let him try now.”

  She glared at Camden. “How could you suggest that? You saw what happened. If it wasn’t for you…”

  She swallowed past the lump in her throat. She had to push past her fears. Push past Aaron’s death. She knew this. But it didn’t make the pain any less real or the apprehension any easier to bear.

  “Yeah, he went off the trail,” Camden answered calmly.

  “And almost ended up in the lake,” she countered.

  Camden got down on one knee to Bodhi’s level. “What were you looking at when you jumped the path and started plowing the grass?”

  Her son pointed toward the lake and a line of three ducklings trailing behind the mother duck. “The baby ducks. They’re so cute!”

  “That’s what happened,” Camden said, looking up at her.

  “Ducks?” Cadence shot back.

  “No, focus.”

  “I looked at the ducks, and then I went that way,” Bodhi said, connecting the dots.

  Camden held Bodhi’s gaze. “Do you think you could try again and focus on the things I tell you to look at?”

  “Will that help me ride without training wheels?” the boy asked.

  “Yes, it should,” Camden answered.

  Bodhi’s expression darkened. “My friends don’t need training wheels. I was the only kid who had them during the end of the school year Whitmore bike parade.”

  Cadence’s heart sank, but everything stopped when a large, warm hand touched her arm.

  “I’ll stay next to Bodhi the entire time, Day—I mean, Cadence.”

  Could he not remember her name? It didn’t matter. What did matter was Bodhi and his safety.

  She frowned. “What if he heads for the lake again?”

  “Then I guess we’re both going for a swim,” he answered with the same warmth she’d seen in his eyes when he’d helped her with the squirrel removal.

  Who was this Camden Bergen? One minute the man couldn’t get away from them fast enough. The next, he was volunteering to teach her son to ride a bike.

  “Please, Mom!”

  She crossed her arms, holding herself tightly. “Okay. One more try.”

  “I won’t look at the ducks when I’m riding my bike. I promise, Mommy.”

  Or birds or people or flowers or insects. Distractions were everywhere.

  She gripped the bike seat, lifting it from where it came to rest on the ground, then stilled as Camden’s hand covered hers.

  She tried not to focus on the warmth of his touch. “I really don’t want my son crashing into a lake.”

  “That’s reasonable.”

  She swallowed hard. “Or a tree or a bench or a person.”

  “Those are all good things to avoid,” he answered, the low rumble of his voice calming her frayed nerves.

  Bodhi had walked to the edge of the lake and started throwing pebbles into the serene water. The soft, plop, plop of the stones rippling through the placid surface faded away when she met Camden’s gaze.

  “Why are you doing this for Bodhi?”

  Pain flashed in his eyes. “Because I can. Because I owe it to you for all the things that I can’t give you.”

  She studied him closely. “I don’t understand. What can’t you give me? We just met.”

  Sadness marred his features. “Let me help, Bodhi. If he’s not circling the lake in ten minutes, we can call it a day.”

  “Okay,” she answered, hardly believing she’d uttered the word.

  He lifted his hand from where it had rested on top of hers and gripped the handlebars. “Let’s give it another try, Bodhi,” he called.

  She stood, her body buzzing from his touch, and watched as Camden helped Bodhi onto the bike.

  “Okay, Bodhi, look at where you want to go. Find that spot and focus on it.”

  Her son nodded.

  “Start with the trees that line the path. Pick one, and after you pass it, pick another.”

  Camden gestured around the lake, pointing to the largest trees.

  “Like landmarks?” Bodhi asked.

  “Exactly like landmarks. Are you ready?”

  “Will you stay next to me?”

  Camden patted Bodhi’s back. “Yes.”

  The boy nodded. “Then, I’m ready.”

  Camden pointed to a tree a good twenty yards away. “Do you see that tree with the curve in its trunk? That’s your first landmark.”

  Bodhi craned his neck. “Mommy, are you watching?”

  She smiled at her son. “Always.”

  “Mommy, can we…” He reached out his hand.

  Warmth filled her chest as she took it in hers and gave it three pumps.

  I love you.

  He squeezed back four.

  I love you, too.

  Bodhi leaned in toward Camden. “That’s our secret code for saying I love you. It’s how we said goodbye every day before I went to kindergarten. Want me to teach it to you, Camden?”

  “If your mom doesn’t mind,” Camden replied, his gaze flicking to her.

  “It’s fine,” she said, not sure what to make of her son wanting to teach their secret I love you handshake to someone he’d just met.

  Bodhi took Camden’s hand in his and gave it three quick pumps. “That’s the I love you part. Now it’s your turn. You squeeze my hand four times and think, I love you, too. But don’t say it. Pretend you’re a secret agent.”

  Camden glanced up at her, a quick movement, but she caught it, then gave Bodhi’s hand four quick pumps.

  “Did you think the words?” Bodhi asked.

  “I did.”

  “Now you know how to do it! You’re a secret agent like me and my mom.”

  Camden cleared his throat. “Okay, Secret Agent Bodhi, it’s time to focus on your first landmark.”

  Her son gripped the handlebars and stared at the willow. “Here we go!”

  “How many times did I go around the lake, Mommy?”

  “I stopped counting at eleven,” she answered and handed Bodhi another slice of pizza.

  “And remember when that group of runners went by, and I had to move all over the path so I wouldn’t hit them, Camden?”

  Cadence looked across the table and didn’t see an empty chair and watched as Camden swallowed a mouthful of pizza.

  “That was some expert-level maneuvering, buddy,” the man answered.

  Bodhi yawned. “I did what you said. I picked a spot and focused on it—and I got through them without crashing into anything!”

  Camden had done it. In less than ten minutes, he’d had Bodhi
pedaling past people walking their dogs, parents pushing strollers, and even slicing and dicing his way through a pack of joggers.

  She’d watched the first wobbly lap ease into the second, then third. And with every pass, Bodhi improved, his chin raised with a determined expression as he concentrated on the landmarks. And something amazing happened. As Bodhi’s confidence grew, her anxiety tapered off, and she’d stopped neurotically counting the laps and watching her son and let her focus drift to the man running alongside him.

  His strong, muscular body never more than a few feet away from Bodhi. His gaze darting between her son and the bike path. They went around and around for almost two hours.

  “Thanks for the pizza,” Camden said from across the table.

  “It’s the least we could do, right, B? Camden was kind enough to teach you how to ride all around the park,” she said, but when she looked over at her son, his eyelids fluttered.

  “It looks like Secret Agent Bodhi may be falling asleep,” Camden said with a chuckle.

  “I’m not tired,” the little boy answered, chin dipping then coming up again.

  She bit back a grin. “Are you sure, sweetie? You look a little tired.”

  “I’m going to ride around the park ten more times,” Bodhi said, his words running together.

  “Ten?” she asked, sharing a look with Camden.

  “Twenty,” Bodhi countered, before falling forward.

  She and Camden reached out at the same time and braced the sleepy boy from using his slice of pizza as a pillow.

  Bodhi opened his eyes a fraction then slid in his chair toward Camden. In one fluid movement, the man stood and had her son in his arms, Bodhi’s head resting on his shoulder.

  “Sweetest dreams, Camden,” Bodhi mumbled.

  Camden’s eyes went wide. “What did he say?”

  Cadence smoothed her son’s hair. “Sweetest dreams. It’s just what I tell Bodhi when I kiss him goodnight before bed.”

  And Mountain Mac—but she wasn’t about to tell him that.

  She’d typed the words that very first night when they’d spent hours messaging back and forth.

  “Do you want me to put him to bed?” Camden asked.

  She stared at them. It had been years since anyone besides herself had carried a sleeping Bodhi. He’d gotten so big. When Aaron used to hold him, he was just a tiny little thing, all rosy cheeks and chubby toddler thighs. Now his lanky legs dangled, one shoelace untied swaying back and forth as he shifted his weight in Camden’s arms.

  “Cadence?”

  She pulled her gaze from her son. “Yes, let’s get him to bed. He had a sleepover birthday party last night, and then with all those laps this afternoon, I think he’s pretty tuckered out.”

  She led Camden down the hall and opened the door to Bodhi’s room. She turned on a rotating lamp and stars and planets began to circle the room in a cozy blue glow.

  “I had one of those lamps as a kid, too,” Camden whispered and surveyed the room.

  “He likes to think he’s a big boy, but he still gets a little frightened of the dark.”

  Bodhi shifted again, and Camden adjusted his hold.

  “Here,” she said and pulled back the covers.

  Camden gently set Bodhi on the bed. He stepped back, and she went to work, taking off the boy’s shoes and socks then pulled up the covers.

  Bodhi yawned. “Mr. Cuddles?”

  “He’s right here,” she answered, tucking the bear in next to her son.

  “Sweetest dreams,” she whispered and kissed his forehead.

  “Sweetest dreams, Mommy,” Bodhi murmured, hugging the bear to his chest.

  She turned to find Camden watching her, the blue light casting him in an ethereal glow that highlighted his strong jaw and broad shoulders, making him look like some other-world superhero.

  He followed her out of Bodhi’s room, and she closed the door with a soft click.

  “Is that a new one?” he asked.

  She cocked her head to the side.

  “The doorknob,” he said.

  She touched the glass knob. “Yes. I found this one in an antique shop not far from Bergen Mountain.”

  His expression dimmed a fraction. “I better—”

  Something inside her wasn’t about to let him finish that sentence.

  “Would you like a beer? I think you earned it after today. You must have run ten miles,” she blurted, hoping that she didn’t come off as desperate for company as it sounded.

  She didn’t want him to go. Not yet.

  “Sure, a beer would be great.”

  She pointed to the front door. “Why don’t we sit on the front porch?”

  “Okay.”

  “I’ll meet you out there,” she said, holding his gaze before heading to the kitchen.

  She opened the refrigerator door and inhaled the crisp air, hoping it would cool her down.

  What was she doing?

  She was having a beer. She’d had beers with Brennen plenty of times. Granted, Abby was there, and she and Brennen had no…

  No, what?

  Attraction?

  Shower escapades?

  She grabbed two bottles of Left Hand Brewing Company’s Sawtooth Ale and closed the fridge and popped the tops off the bottles. Wisps of the last rays of the late spring sun shined in through her kitchen window, setting off the amber ale in a warm glow.

  “We’re just two people having beers,” she whispered, leaving the kitchen.

  But that didn’t stop her body from buzzing with anticipation when she caught sight of him on the porch.

  He’d left the front door propped open, his long legs moving as he rocked back and forth on the swing. She stepped onto the porch, and he stilled.

  She handed him the bottle and sat down on the swing beside him. “I hope this is okay?”

  Camden glanced at the label, and the ghost of a smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. “I haven’t had this in years. Bren used to sneak them for us when we were teenagers.” He pointed to the label of a simple red left hand, and his smile morphed into a frown. “I distinctly remember you making a lefty comment.”

  She glanced at the Patek Philippe watch on his right wrist. “Bodhi’s left-handed, too. He used to get frustrated with scissors and hated writing in those spiral notebooks.”

  Camden leaned back. “I don’t blame him. I spent a good part of high school with the side of my left hand covered with ink.”

  She chuckled. “Well, I’ll have you know, you’re in good company.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  She set her beer down by her feet and started counting on her fingers. “Albert Einstein, Isaac Newton, Charles Darwin, and Benjamin Franklin were all lefties who did great things for this world.”

  He took a long pull off the bottle and glanced away, but she saw the pain in his eyes.

  She leaned in. “Can I ask you something?”

  He nodded.

  “What’s Switzerland like? That’s where you’ve been all these years, right?”

  He took another sip, then held his beer in his lap. “It’s quiet.”

  “What do you do there?”

  He cocked his head to the side.

  “When you busted into your grandparents’ backyard like the Incredible Hulk and demolished that poor cake,” she began.

  Camden looked into the beer bottle, shook his head, and chuckled. “The Hulk?”

  “Well, yeah or like that old commercial where the giant pitcher of Kool-Aid busts through walls. I figured you’d prefer the Hulk.”

  “Good call,” he answered and took another sip.

  She bit back a grin. “Well, I couldn’t help hearing you say that you haven’t touched your trust and didn’t want any of your inheritance. I just wondered how you made it work?”

  He leaned forward and stared out at the street. “I do a lot of seasonal work at nearby ski resorts. It didn’t hurt that I grew up a Bergen and already knew everything about them. I can do basic maintenance
on just about anything. I can fix snowmobiles and chair lifts. I’ve shoveled snow. Ran the snowcats. In the summers, I build and tune-up mountain bikes and help out with any of the water sports. I have a little cabin, and it doesn’t cost much. That’s all I need.”

  She relaxed into the rocking rhythm. “But doesn’t everyone know you’re…you?”

  He grinned. “People care a lot more about me being a Bergen here than they ever did over there.”

  “So, nobody knows?”

  “Not really. Staff turnover is high. People come and go. It’s very international. Lots of languages. Nobody really sticks out. Big guys with burly beards grooming the ski runs are a dime a dozen. I’ve kept to myself. I rarely engage with anyone. Years passed, and I faded into the daily grind.”

  “Is it lonely?” she asked, the words escaping before she could stop them.

  He glanced back at the bottle and sighed. “Sometimes, what about you?”

  She stiffened. “What about me?”

  “Are you ever lonely?”

  She closed her eyes and sighed. “Would it be weird to say yes? The funny thing is, I’m hardly ever alone.”

  He gave her a sweet smile. “That doesn’t mean you can’t be lonely.”

  “I have good friends—Abby and her cousin, Elle, are great, but I…” she trailed off.

  “You’re not like them?” he pressed.

  She stared at the night sky. “They’re like sisters to me. But we’re different. I have a child.”

  He nodded. “What about other friends?”

  She opened her eyes. “My online friend. But he’s been…”

  The rocking stopped.

  “What?” Camden asked.

  “A little distant.”

  Camden studied his beer bottle. “I’m sorry.”

  She waved him off. “It’s not your fault. Maybe it’s just the ebb and flow of an online friendship, or maybe he’s found a real person to talk to. I’ve never known anyone like this.”

  A muscle twitched in his cheek as he set his empty bottle on the ground.

  She toyed with the hem of her skirt. “Do you think you’ll go back to Switzerland at the end of the summer?”

  “I have to.”

  “Why?”

  He shifted to face her when his foot hit her beer and the clank of the bottle cut through the air.