ComfortZone (2 page)

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 cab 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.