by KJ Reed
It was her best friend. She was entitled to sniffle a little, right? But outright crying, no. She’d done enough of that in the past twenty-four hours, thank you very much.
She watched—and gave a watery laugh—as Trav took hold of Ariel’s shoulders and dipped her old-Hollywood style before giving her a kiss that had every female heart sighing.
Twenty minutes later, after helping the ushers direct guests to the camp banquet hall, she reported back to the decorated gazebo for photos.
“Go ahead and take a spot to the right of the bride, darling.” The photographer half dragged her into position. To the right of Ariel, and directly in front of Brice. The man who had avoided her all day as if she were leprosy on a stick. Lovely.
“Hold it. That’s great. Now everyone smile for me.”
Mary Ellen held her breath and did her best to shove thoughts of the jerk aside. Happy thoughts. Happy thoughts. Smile. Except she couldn’t help but feel his suit jacket brush her back with every breath. And did he have to breathe so freaking loudly?
“Okay, I’m going to have the bride and groom sit down on the steps there, and everyone lean in around them, like you’re framing them. Great, nice work.”
“Can you see down my dress?” Sarah called out, making everyone laugh.
“You’re looking good, sweetheart,” the photographer reassured her.
“Ass,” Pete muttered.
“Easy, buddy. He’s not poaching.” Trav shook his head with amusement.
“Got the shot. Bridal party, you can relax and stand up for a sec while my assistant switches out the lights. Bride and groom, this way for a few couple shots while they fix the setup.”
They all straightened and shook out their muscles after crouching in an uncomfortable position. Trav held out a hand and helped Ariel climb down the stairs, following the photographer to a bench surrounded by early flowers. Brice’s arm brushed her back more than once as they wiggled around, readjusting their clothing and bodies. She waited a beat, then two. Just let it go. Ignore it. Be the bigger person.
She was never very good at being the bigger person.
Whirling around, she poked her bouquet at Brice’s chest. “Do you have to breathe so hard?”
His face went from shock to annoyance too quickly. “I’m not.”
“You’re breathing down my neck, literally. Feels like I’m running with the bulls and one’s about to ram me up my ass.”
Pete snickered and got an elbow from Sarah.
Brice jerked his head toward them. “He’d know. Right?”
Mary Ellen’s mouth dropped open all by itself. How could he… Why would he… “What the hell?”
Sarah’s mouth dropped open.
“Dude. Pull it back.” Pete shook his head.
“Never mind.” Brice shrugged his shoulders, as if he hadn’t just said something completely rude and uncalled for.
“No. I absolutely will not ‘never mind’. How dare you judge me? You don’t want me. You’ve made that abundantly clear to me in the past. While you’ve made playing the dog in the manger an art form, I’ve had a life. So please. Please forgive me for being with other guys— Sorry, Sarah.”
“No problem,” she sang.
“And not sitting up in some ivory tower, waiting for you to make a move that you’re never going to make.” Okay. She’d skipped straight over assertive and moved right on into shrill, bordering on crazy. Not her finest moment.
Brice’s jaw clenched, and she would have sworn she saw one of his beautiful brown eyes twitch. But he said nothing. At least he didn’t deny it. Wouldn’t that have been a whopper of a lie.
She turned on her heel and started down the gazebo steps. As she passed Ariel, she whispered an apology. Then the minute her heels hit the makeshift aisle, she took off at a speed walk.
Sure, running might have been more dramatic, more point-proving. And it would have gotten her out of there much faster. But she was in heels, damn it. Practicality wins over drama.
* * * * *
What the hell?
It was the only thing Brice could think of while he, once again, stood off in the shadows, watching other people socialize. This was becoming an uncomfortable habit. He caught himself in mid-scowl, wiped his face clean of any expression and glanced at the dance floor.
There. That made him feel better already. His sister, dancing with her husband. Looking like someone lit a lantern inside her, she was glowing so much. Trav whirled her around until her skirts swished and tangled them both. They laughed, and she rested her cheek on his shoulder.
His heart contracted a little, both in joy and sorrow. She wasn’t his to protect anymore. Wasn’t his to watch over, keep safe. Something he’d vowed to do since she was six years old, and looked up at him with those big eyes and put one sticky hand in his and said he was home.
But she was happy. Happier than he’d ever seen her before. And he refused to ruin her day by acting like an ass. He’d already played that card earlier, during pictures.
Making his way over to the bridal party’s table, he squatted down next to Sarah’s chair. In a low voice, he said, “I’m sorry about earlier.”
“Hmm?” She kept her eyes trained on her brother, Trav, a small smile tilting her lips.
“During the photos. Bringing up past stuff that—”
“It’s okay.” She turned a brilliant smile to him, and he breathed a sigh of relief. “Really, it is. I understand.”
“Thanks.” He stood and held out a hand. “Dance?”
“Love to.” They walked to the dance floor and found a little piece all for themselves. She wasn’t the most graceful, but she made up for it in enthusiasm and soon had him smiling.
Even a glance to his left to see Mary Ellen dancing with Pete didn’t dampen his spirits. Sure, they had a past. But Pete was with Sarah now, and any fool could see he wasn’t giving Sarah up. No threat.
Wait. No threat? To what? He didn’t want her.
Christ, what a lie.
Pete spun Mary Ellen out, only to be caught by one of the ushers. Trav’s cop buddy, Taylor. Pete took over dancing with Brice and Ariel’s mother and Mary Ellen stayed with Taylor.
“You’ll have to see a dentist soon.”
“Huh?” Brice looked down to see Sarah looking at him with a gleam in her eye.
“Your back teeth are grinding so much, you’re about to lose them. You might want to do something about that.”
“I don’t grind my teeth.”
“I meant that.” She nodded her head toward the oh-so-happy dancing couple of Mary Ellen and Taylor. “Listen, I’m the new kid in this equation. So I might be way off. But from where I stand, you’re jonesing for her like an addict. Why do you keep denying yourself?”
Like an addict. Apt description. Much like any drug, he was terrified if he had a taste of Mary Ellen, he’d be hooked for life.
“Long story.” It was the most polite way he could think of to evade.
“Which is social code for ‘shut your trap, Sarah.’” He started to deny it but she shook her head with a smile. “I can do that. Just one more thing before I do. She’s hurting from want, too. Seems like if you’ll both be miserable apart, you might as well take a chance at being miserable together. And who knows? Maybe the misery will cancel out and you’ll actually be happy.”
With that, she did a surprisingly agile spin under his arm and walked toward the bar, abandoning him on the dance floor with his thoughts.
Maybe the misery will cancel out. Definitely a new way of looking at things.
He walked back to sit down at the head table and observe. Mary Ellen’s laughter was clear as a bell, ringing out over the music as Taylor twirled her around the floor. They swayed, bumped into someone, laughed and apologized and kept right on going. Too wrapped up in their own little world to notice where they were going.
His arm started to burn and he realized his hand was clenched into a tight fist. Wiping his palms over his pants forced them to relax
.
Shit. She was right. He really was the dog in the manger. And he’d known it for years. Just never done anything about it.
Because you don’t have the right.
Did he?
Maybe the misery will cancel out.
Fuck. Was that what he wanted? Did he really want Mary Ellen enough to ignore what he thought—or at least had thought up to now—was the best thing for them?
Sarah might have had the right of it. If they were both upset, was it for the best?
He stood without realizing it, then found himself walking toward where Mary Ellen and Taylor were swaying, almost as if someone else was controlling his body. Just a puppet on a string, guided by his desire.
“Hey, buddy.” Taylor looked up, lopsided grin on his face. Completely unaware he was mere moments from a shoving match.
“Cutting in.”
The grin slipped a little and he looked down at Mary Ellen. “Well, I mean if—”
“Thanks.” He took advantage of the other man’s slow move and stepped between them, hauling Mary Ellen to the other side of the floor.
“It’s okay, Taylor. Thanks for the dance!” she called over his shoulder. In a lower voice, she added, “You’re acting like an ass. This is your sister’s wedding. Could you at least behave until the end of the night?”
Behave? Not likely. Not likely at all, as long as she was within a hundred yards. He swallowed the reply. “I’m apologizing. Is that behaving?”
Her green eyes widened almost comically. “I’m sorry, I must have heard you wrong. Could you repeat that?”
“You didn’t hear wrong.” Because he could, because it was completely appropriate and mostly because he wanted to, Brice tightened his arm and brought her closer. When she didn’t protest, he did it again, until her breasts flattened against his chest. He knew, with her miniature stature, if she wasn’t wearing those freakishly sexy high heels, it’d be more like his stomach. She was so tiny, at five foot three. He towered over her by a foot.
Of course, her attitude didn’t match her tiny stature.
Her eyes narrowed. “Apologizing for what?”
He sighed. Of course she wouldn’t let this pass graciously. “For being an ass this afternoon.”
She tilted an eyebrow.
“Okay, fine. An ass in general.”
Her smile warmed him from the core out. “Thank you. That means a lot.”
This part would be a little harder. “You were right.” Okay. He didn’t choke on the words. That was a good sign.
Mary Ellen stumbled a little, falling deeper into his arms. “I was what?”
“Right, dammit. Stop that. I know you can hear me.” Steam. Any minute, steam was going to come pouring out of his ears.
“Not that I don’t agree, because I like to think I’m always right, but what was I right about this time?”
“You’re such a smartass.” He couldn’t help smiling.
“It’s just a part of my charm,” she said with a thick, fake Southern accent.
“Uh huh.” But would that “charm” make the possibility of more between them impossible? He turned her until they came up against the side of the dining hall’s wall, hidden in the shadows created by the low lighting.
“I’ve been…we’ll say a dog.” In the manger. “About some things over the years. But I want it to change.”
“Your attitude?”
He spun until her back was flat against the wall. Placing his hands next to her head, he caged her in. “No. The situation.”
Her breath hitched. “What does that mean?”
Now or never. “I want out of the manger.”
She didn’t move, didn’t breathe for almost a full minute. Shit. He’d read it wrong. Or she gave him mixed signals. Faced with the possibility, she was going to back down. And he’d made a fool out of himself.
No big deal. He only had to face her every single day at work.
One small, delicate hand slid under his suit jacket, laid flat over his stomach. The heat burned though his shirt and his own breath caught in his throat.
“So what do you want to be?”
“Alpha.”
He was going to kiss her. In public. Sort of. Where anyone could see them. If they looked into the shadows. Most importantly, if he made the first move, he wouldn’t be able to deny the whatever was between them any longer.
Oh God, yes please.
But instead, he rolled away from her body, leaving her cold and confused. She was about to sneer, call him a tease, when he wrapped one long-fingered hand around her arm and tugged gently.
“Let’s go.”
Go? What the… “Where?” She had to walk or risk falling flat on her face in her platform peep-toe heels.
“Back to my cabin.”
Oh. Oooooh. “Shouldn’t we tell someone—”
“We can find them later. We know where they live. Trust me, they won’t miss us.”
He stayed close to the wall, in the shadows, and led her out the side door, avoiding any other early departing guests. The moment they stepped outside, he shrugged out of his coat and draped it around her.
She wanted to protest, but she was shivering. No wonder he thought she was cold. So she shut her mouth and wrapped the jacket around her shoulders. But although the night air was cooler than during the day, that wasn’t what had her body quivering.
Anticipation. The possibility of what was to come.
She was a healthy single girl with a healthy appetite for sex. When she wanted it, she could usually find it. But she’d never felt the thrill, the eagerness, the hope like she felt now.
Because she’d never been with Brice. Never even stood a chance. Not until now.
“Why now?”
The question stopped him dead in his tracks. “What do you mean, why now?”
“I mean, why have you changed your mind all of a sudden? We’ve been doing this avoidance thing for years now. But suddenly it’s different?”
She waited while he thought. His face was almost like a mirror into his mind, showing how it was approaching the question from every angle until he found one he liked most.
And it really scared her how much the answer mattered.
“Can we just say that someone said something that really made me think, very hard, about the situation?”
Well, that was better than he was just horny and he thought she’d say yes. So she nodded and started to walk. But the gravel made for slow going. The heels in gravel combined with how short her legs were compared to Brice’s made for awkward going.
“Can you slow down a little?” she panted as she almost fell. Damn rocks.
“Slow down?” He almost looked pained at the thought, but then glanced at the ground. “Oh damn. Sorry.” Without another word, he bent over and picked her up.
“Whoa, holy hell. You didn’t have to carry me.”
“Please. You’re a lightweight. If you haven’t noticed, you’re not much heavier than a feather.”
Okay, she knew she was small, but that was…well, actually that was kind of a compliment. She’d take it. Looping her arms around his neck, she breathed in his scent. Understated woodsy aftershave, with just the smallest hint of soap. Clean, simple, Brice. She rooted a little farther, until she nosed up against the skin of his neck. Where his smell was more strong. A tingle started low in her belly when he groaned.
“Keep doing that and we aren’t going to make it to the cabin.”
“I wouldn’t complain.” Actually, now that he mentioned it, that stump over there looked pretty comfortable.
“We both would when you ripped this dress to shreds and I never got the grass stains out of my suit.”
Right. Not exactly dressed for an in-the-woods sexathon. “Good point.”
“Besides. We’re almost there.” He weaved between two cabins to reach his own, set back a little way from the normal rows. While all the cabins that the staff lived in—most just during the summer months, but a few permanently—were
removed from where campers and other visitors slept, his was the farthest. Where she knew he liked it.
He unlocked, opened the door and closed it behind him before setting her on her feet. When he turned to lock the door once more, it felt like the end of a chapter. The one titled We Will Pretend Nothing Is Going on Here.
Of course, the new chapter was titled Holy Shit, We’re Really Doing This.
Brice slid his hands along her collarbone, over her shoulders until the jacket dropped onto the floor. Though the cabin was warm, she still couldn’t stop her body’s shivers. He rubbed her arms from elbow to shoulder.
“Still cold? I could shut the windows if you don’t want the air coming in.”
She shook her head. “That’s not it. I’m just running on adrenaline right now.”
He nodded. That was the beauty of being in this position with someone who knew you so well. You didn’t have to elaborate.
“You’re scared. Aren’t you?”
And there was the crappy part about being in this position with someone who knew you so well. They could see things you’d rather were invisible.
He took her hand and led her to the center of the room. Put his arms around her and just rocked. Like they were still dancing at the reception.
Sweetness. It wasn’t what she expected. But she liked it.
“This is nice.”
“Mmm. I need to say something before we get started.”
Oh no. Nothing good could come from whatever he was about to say. She leaned back enough to look up into his face. With the moonlight behind him, she struggled to make out his features. But no hint of what was to come showed, at least as far as she could tell. Brice was the master of burying whatever he was feeling.
He stared back for a moment. Then he shook his head. “Not really important right now.”
She wasn’t sure that was the truth, but nodded anyway. Why complicate things more than necessary? “So, what is important?”
“You.” He tugged on the zipper of her dress until it started to move. “Getting out of this dress.” The zipper went lower until his fingers brushed the small of her back. “And onto the bed.” He bent his head and kissed her neck. “Where I can do whatever I want with you.”
