by KJ Reed
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I can’t really say more than that.”
“You could. You just won’t,” was her tight reply.
They rode the rest of the way to the restaurant in not-so-blissful silence.
Chapter Two
Brice watched Mary Ellen as she worked the room during the rehearsal dinner. From a distance, of course. Always from a distance.
She was a natural. A social butterfly. She greeted the out-of-town guests who had been invited to dine with the wedding party and made them feel right at home. She introduced relatives of the bride to the groom’s “family”…most of whom weren’t blood related, but members of the police force or Marine Corps. And he took note as each group relaxed just a little when she strolled up to make conversation.
He, on the other hand, preferred to sulk in corners and ignore most everyone. Okay, maybe not preferred, but it’s what was happening. He wasn’t a people-person to begin with. It’s why his job was administrative. Not the face of the camp. His current bad attitude—thanks to the strained drive—only made things worse.
“You know, as my brother, you could at least make the effort to look happy. People are starting to wonder if you’re against my marrying Trav.”
He looked down at his little sister. “Just tell them I’m an ass.”
“Already did that. Please. Like I wouldn’t have jumped at the chance to use that line.” She waved the thought away. “So how was the drive over?”
“Smooth. Real smooth transition, sis.” Brice took a sip of his water. He never touched alcohol. With his background, he was never even remotely tempted. “The ride could have gone better.”
Ariel huffed and took his water glass for a sip of her own. “I don’t understand you two. You’re both amazing people, you obviously both have the hots for each other, and you’re both single. Right?” She shot him a sideways glance. “You’re not dating anyone special, are you?”
He laughed, but the sound was hollow. “Am I ever?”
Ariel shook her head. “So what’s the big problem?”
“I don’t have a problem. You however…” He bumped her shoulder gently with his. “You are about to be blissfully married, and you think everyone else around you needs to get with the program and follow you down the aisle. Like some long, twisted game of follow the leader.”
“Yes.” No hesitation on her answer. “Yes, you’re right. How silly of me to want the two people I love most in the world—minus my parents and the man I’m about to marry—to also be blissfully happy. How horrible of me. I should be ashamed. I can definitely see the problem in that.”
Ignoring that, he took another sip of water. But it tasted metallic suddenly. His eyes tracked Mary Ellen as she bent down to grab a napkin she dropped. One tiny strap of her sundress dipped over her shoulder. He wanted to rip it with his teeth, watch the whole dress start to fall over her breasts, her hips. Pool on the ground at her feet while her eyes widened in—
“Brice. Earth to brother.”
“What?”
“I said, is there a specific reason why you won’t go after her?”
He sighed and looped an arm around her shoulder. She tucked into his side, comfortable as always with physical affection and love. She’d grown up in a house that cherished her, with hugs given just because. When Brice came to the Winstons’ home at age ten, he’d had to learn that hugs were okay. That physical touch wasn’t always painful or scary.
“Maybe I don’t think I have the right to dump my past onto someone. Anyone.” It was as good an excuse as any.
“You’re such an ass,” she replied, no heat. “I firmly believe that nurture will win out over anything you carry with you. You might not have legally been a Winston until you were ten. But you know how we feel. You were meant for our family from the start. So as far as we’re concerned, before ten didn’t exist.”
“But—”
“You’re a good man. And my favorite brother.”
“Only brother,” he corrected, but smiled.
“Same thing. So the point is, you’re good enough for her. Past be damned. And if you let the chance of what you want pass you by…well. Let’s just say that Damian becomes my favorite brother.”
As she walked away, he said, “Damian is the barn cat.”
“Exactly,” she sang without turning around.
* * * * *
“Sarah, you did an amazing job planning the rehearsal dinner.”
As the group started to stretch and stand from their delicious meal, Sarah preened under the compliment from Ariel’s mother. “Thanks. I didn’t have to do much though. Ariel was the one who suggested the place. I only made the reservations and made sure everything was ready for us to show up.”
“Aw, don’t say that. You were a big help.” Pete wrapped his arms around her from behind, dropped his chin to the top of her head. “And you helped set up the gardens, too, don’t forget.”
Sarah smiled softly, and Mary Ellen again felt that pinch from the green-eyed monster. The nasty bastard. To combat the bitchy attitude she felt creeping up, she added, “Everything was awesome, Sarah.”
While the out-of-town guests started to head for their cars, she retrieved her wrap from the coat closet off the private dining room they’d reserved for the dinner and began to pick up gift bags. Out of habit more than anything, she watched Brice as he made organized piles with the gifts. It was as if she could see his mind working. Heavy gifts here, bulky gifts there. Always organized, always in control. It drove her insane…in the super-hot, show-me-how-you-do-that sort of way. And she hated that.
Time to gather the courage. Ironic really, that she had no problem approaching men she didn’t know in a bar. But the man she’d known since she was just a kid…scared the shit out of her. Not him as a person. Her fear of being rejected by him. Of the finality, once she made the leap. If he didn’t jump with her, it was over. There was no more “maybe” to cling to. Because if he outright said no, and she kept hoping, well that just made her pathetic. Didn’t it?
But it was time. They’d been doing the “I want you, I can’t have you” dance since she was eighteen. And she was just tired. Time to end it, one way or another.
As she bent down for another gift bag, she slipped one earring off and into her purse. Then she grabbed her load and followed the wedding party out to pack the presents into Trav’s car.
“That’s the last one.” Pete shut the trunk with a flourish. “Nice idea having us and the other guests here tonight bring them now instead of tomorrow. One less thing to worry about on the big day.”
“That was the plan,” Ariel chirped, then turned to Sarah and Mary Ellen. “Okay. Back to my cabin for some girls’ night fun.” Her eyes shone with mischief. “What time is the stripper showing up again?”
Trav fake growled and lunged for her, but she darted out of reach with a laugh.
“Just kidding! C’mon, Sarah. The boys have bonding of their own to do. Mary Ellen, you coming?”
“Yeah. I just— No!” She reached up to touch her naked earlobe. “No, no, no.”
Brice’s gaze was intense, observing every detail. “What’s wrong?”
“My earring.” God, she felt so wrong lying, now that the idea started to play out. But she’d committed. Time to keep going. “I must have knocked it off when I put my wrap back on.”
“We’ll help you look.” Ariel started toward the restaurant door.
“Don’t.” The words came out a little sharper than she meant. She took a deep breath and tried for a softer approach. “I mean, the bride shouldn’t spend the night before her wedding looking around a restaurant for an earring. Go with Sarah, get the fun started, and I’ll be right behind you. Please,” she added when Ariel looked reluctant. “I don’t want to spoil your night.”
“How will you get back to the camp?”
Time to pull out the massive acting chops. She glanced at her watch, fiddled with it for a moment. “Plenty of time to call for a ca
b once I find it.”
“No way. Brice, will you bring her home?”
“Oh no, he’s got things to do.”
Ariel gave her a look. “I’m not letting you just stay here alone. I’m sure he won’t mind helping you look.”
She heard the deep sigh of reluctance to her left. And she refused to give him the satisfaction of looking over to see his face. Did he really have to act as if it were a death sentence?
“Yeah,” he finally answered. “Go on ahead. I’m sure we won’t be very long.”
Thank you sweet baby Jesus. She rushed over to hug the bride and pack her into Sarah’s car. “I’ll be there soon.” Hopefully not too soon.
She waited until the guys took off in Trav’s car and the girls in Ariel’s before she turned and gave Brice a smile.
“Thanks. Shouldn’t take too long.” Unless I’m doing something right. She walked back into the restaurant. The wait staff were leaving the private dining room with tubs full of plates and glassware. All the tables had been wiped down.
“We’ll stay out of your way,” one server said as they ducked back through the doors. “You have the place until we close at midnight.”
“We won’t be…here…that…long.” Brice sighed as the wait staff disappeared and the door shut with a snap. “Okay then. So where did you drop it?”
She bit her lip against screaming out a confession. “I think in the coat closet.”
He headed over to the small side room with the empty rack, head bent down.
“Check the corners,” she said, following him as he started to concentrate in the back corner.
He squatted down, one hand sweeping the carpet, back completely turned. She took a deep breath and closed the door behind her as quietly as she could. Now or never.
With one final breath, she turned the lock on the door with a snick.
The sound of the lock was louder than a gunshot in Brice’s head. He looked back, found Mary Ellen leaning against the closed door. And for once, instead of the overly confident smirk she wore—her public face, he mentally called it—her expression was hesitant. Uncertain. As if she was second-guessing her decision.
And she sure as hell should be.
Trying to stay calm, he stood. “There’s no earring, is there?”
She had the good grace to blush in the harsh overhead light. “It’s in my purse.”
He nodded, not trusting himself to speak. God get him out of the closet before he did something monumentally stupid. Like strangle her. Or kiss her. Or both.
Mary Ellen screwed her eyes tightly shut, and he watched while her lips moved in silent count. Those lips. The ones that haunted him. That he was dying to taste. To watch them form a sweet little “O” as she came around him. That he wanted to see wrapped around his cock as he had her on her knees in front of him. Falling under, submitting, letting him lead her in pleasure. Plenty of room for that in the closet, right?
No. No, dammit, no.
“Brice?”
“Don’t say it.”
“We need to solve this. For good. Now.”
“Solve what?” Ignorance was always a blissful place to be, right? Even if it was complete bullshit.
Her expression softened. “You know exactly what, you jerk. This thing. The attraction.”
“What attraction?”
More like what bullshit. Christ, the tiny room was electrified with it. Years. Years he’d avoided being in tight spots like this with her. Alone. Tempted beyond all reason. And now she was dangling a carrot right in front of his face.
She took a step forward. “Brice. It’s my last try. You know I want you. I’ve wanted you since before you even knew I existed.”
“I always knew you existed.” The words were out before he could stop them.
Her smile grew and she took another step forward. “See? That’s progress. I know you want me too. Why can’t we give this a try?”
Too many fucking reasons to count. He took a step back and bumped up against the back of the closet. That only seemed to amuse Mary Ellen more. She took one last step forward, her breasts almost brushing against his chest.
“Why are you backing away? It’s just me, Brice. Mary Ellen.”
“That’s exactly why. You’re you, and I’m me.” And didn’t that explain it all. He took a good grip on her tiny shoulders and held her at arm’s length. “We don’t mesh in any way.”
She gave him a tiny smile, then pushed one of his wrists until his fingers brushed down her shoulder, taking the tiny strap of her dress with it. He watched, as if completely helpless to stop it, as his fingers traced down to her elbow, moving the neckline of her dress until one breast was almost free.
And he broke.
He whipped her around until she was cornered in the back of the closet. She landed against the wall with an oomph but said nothing. Jerking her arms up until he imprisoned her wrists with one hand, he studied her. Her face was flushed, her breasts were pushed out from arching her back, threatening to spill out. Her legs were tangled, ankles crossed, barely keeping her balance in her heels. The position was one of surrender. A captive waiting for her guard to make a decision.
But the gleam in her eyes, the one that hinted at her true nature—her defiant nature—was still there. He ignored it and bent down to take her lips.
Rough. She needed to know. He wasn’t a soft, gentle lover. Never had been. He waited for a struggle, for a whimper of fear. For a gasp or curse. Nothing. Nothing but her mouth giving under his, her head angling for him, lips parting in invitation.
“Damn it.” He swept in to conquer her with another kiss. Deeper, harder, until he was sure she might feel the first sting of pain from the pressure. He let go of her wrists so she could push at him, slap him, somehow escape the assault. But she only wrapped around him as if he were a lifeline. Her tight, compact body molded against his until there wasn’t a breath between them.
“More. Please, Brice.” She moaned against his neck, taking sweet little sucking bites of his skin. Her hands worked on the buttons of his suit jacket. She pushed at him, trying to knock him back against another wall. Trying to take control.
No.
“No.” There. Out loud that time. “Not gonna happen.” Can’t happen. He sidestepped until they were standing as far apart as possible in the small room. He watched the look of hurt, then anger pass over her face. Mary Ellen was always the most expressive person he’d ever known.
“What the hell?” She dabbed at the corner of her mouth.
He felt a moment of anger at himself. “Did I hurt you?”
She paused then shook her head. But he saw her run her tongue over her gums, as if checking for blood.
Just another reminder why they would never be anything more than…whatever they were. His desires had no place in her life. And he struggled too hard to keep his control around her. He opened the door, letting the light spill back in.
“This can’t happen again.”
Hands on her hips, she shook her head. “I’m not a mind reader. You care to tell me exactly why the hell not? I thought things were going pretty well there.”
“I’ll go pull the car around. Take your time.” He shut the door behind him to give her a minute of privacy. And mentally shut the door on the small glimmer of hope he ever had in them.
* * * * *
“You stubborn jackass.” He couldn’t hear her anymore, but it felt good to say. Mary Ellen pulled the strap of her dress back up and dug through her purse for her earring. Finding her shawl, she picked it up and wrapped it over her arms and ran fingers through her short hair to fluff it back out.
There. She was back in order. Mostly. Poised, confident, ready to face the world again.
She let her back hit the wall and slid down until she was sitting on the carpet. And indulged herself in one quick round of quiet tears. Anyone would have been shocked to see them. She hadn’t cried in front of anyone since the second grade when she got kicked for the first time by a horse. Hurt
like hell. But nobody took a crybaby seriously. Any tears she shed, she kept them to herself.
Wiping a hand over her cheek, she practiced the mental pep talk again.
You’re too good for him. If he doesn’t want you, it’s his loss. You gave it your best shot. Blah blah blah fucking blah.
Not helping. Didn’t matter what perspective she used. The rejection still stung like a bitch.
What warm-blooded man rejected a woman who was completely into him? And what’s more, the guy was into her! For years Brice had given her side glances, full of heat and longing. Snarled at any guy she hung around with. Sulked when she discussed a man she was dating. He was the definition of a dog in the manger.
And yet.
Here she was, sitting in a closet—alone—with her mascara running. This was definitely not how she envisioned the night ending.
So what the hell was wrong with her? Not being vain, Mary Ellen still knew she was a decent-looking woman. Her body was proportional and tight thanks to all the heavy lifting she did in the stables. So what the hell was his whole you’re you and I’m me crap all about?
Well, that was it then. Almost ten years she’d been existing with the heat between them always present. And she always had the chance of maybe. Maybe just got shot to shit. So time for a new game plan.
She picked herself up—literally, off the ground—and straightened herself again. Brice didn’t deserve the satisfaction of seeing how upset she was. She would just hold her head high, keep her shoulders back and act as if nothing happened. No, of course she wasn’t devastated. That’s just silly.
Though her lungs were still burning from her sob session, she took a deep breath and blew out slowly. Her head was pounding and her knees wanted to fold. But she wasn’t a folder. Full steam ahead. She opened the closet door and walked toward the parking lot, determined to not let him see her sweat.
Chapter Three
Mary Ellen held back tears as she watched her best friend marry the man of her dreams. The smile on Trav’s face when he first saw Ariel at the end of the aisle created in the camp garden was heart-melting. And Ariel’s permanent glow as she floated down the aisle on her father’s arm was breathtaking. But it was their quiet, solemn, handwritten vows for each other that nearly broke her down.