ComfortZone (9 page)

“Whatever’s on your mind. I’m guessing it’s not camp stuff,
since you always have that under control. Almost scary, actually, how you keep
this place organized.”

“Someone has to,” he bit back.

Trav raised his hands in surrender. “Hey, I’m not
complaining. I agree. Someone has to hold the reins. A place like this has a
lot of love to give. But you can’t do that without a plan and someone running
things.”

He blew out a breath. After so much criticism of his control
from Mary Ellen, he was jumping the gun on anyone who brought it up. “Sorry.
It’s just been a long couple of weeks.”

“Has she had a long few weeks too?”

“Who?” His instinct to play dumb where his feelings for Mary
Ellen were concerned were too ingrained to fight.

Trav squinted at him, then shook his head. “We both know
who. What I don’t know is why you fight it so hard. The two of you love to act
like there’s nothing going on, and yet put you both in the room together and it
feels like there’s a contest to see who can burn the other one’s clothes off
with their eyes the fastest.”

Had it seriously been that obvious? “She annoys me,” he
muttered. Which was true.

“So does Marge. But you don’t stare at her like you do Mary
Ellen.”

Marge the cook? “Marge is knocking on the door to ninety.”

“Lies. She couldn’t be a day over eighty-five.” There was a
teasing light in Trav’s eyes, and Brice was tempted to toss his keyboard at
him. “Look, we’re brothers now.”

“Brothers-in-law.”

He waved that away. “Whatever. The fact is, what you tell me
in confidence stays there. Ariel and I are married, and I love her more than
life itself. But we’re perfectly capable of keeping things quiet if it’s asked
of us. We share a life, not a brain.”

Brice thought about that for a moment.

“Just answer this…what’s stopping you from making a move
with Mary Ellen?”

Ha. “Funny you should ask…”

* * * * *

“Holy shit. I still can’t believe you slept with my
brother.”

Mary Ellen’s eyes darted around, seeing nothing but trees on
either side of the trail. “Keep it down, will you?”

Ariel glanced around her as well. “What, like there’s some
nosy blue jay eavesdropping, just ready to break the story on Perez Hilton?
Come on.”

Okay, when she put it like that, it did sound stupid.
“Someone could ride up the trail behind us,” she mumbled.

“And be heard coming a mile away. You know we’re alone back
here.”

“Were you this smart when you left? I think I miss my dumber
friend, can I have her back?” Mary Ellen ducked the handful of leaves Ariel
threw at her, righted herself in the saddle again. “Yes. I did. And you can
stop looking so surprised. You knew I had a…” A what?
Crush
seemed a little
juvenile. But using the word
lust
to Brice’s sister was a little
bizarre, even if it was her best friend.

“Thing. Let’s use the word thing and call it done. And yeah,
I knew. I was encouraged by it. But sweetie, I’m not mad. I’m just shocked that
he actually let his guard down enough to go for it.”

“That would make two of us.” She breathed in, let the scents
of flowers and fresh, damp earth and leather seep through her, calm her. “But
as it turns out, he didn’t let anything down. He just created this little box
to put me in.”

“I’m not following.”

Mary Ellen urged Ross until he was even with Ariel riding
Rachel. “It’s like, he only let me in a little bit into his life. He created
this special box, labeled
Mary Ellen
. And as long as I stay in this box
that he’s decided I belong in, then everything is fine. But if I want to step
out, then it all goes to hell. He’s so…controlled.”

“That’s Brice.”

“Yeah, I know. And sometimes I like it. But other times,
well, you know me. I like to be in charge too. But that’s not acceptable to
him. He’s like a junkyard dog with a bone and nobody gets to share his bone
with him.”

“He earned it fair and square,” Ariel said, surprising her.

“The bone?”

“The control.” Ariel bit her lip, eyes darting a little.
“Has Brice talked about life? Before he was a Winston.”

That sounded ominous. Whatever she was about to say, Mary
Ellen instinctually knew she wasn’t going to like it.

Chapter Eight

“You used to say that he was born a Winston and the stork
just got lost,” Mary Ellen tried to tease. But the fact she really didn’t know
much about Brice’s live B.W.—Before Winstons—made her shift in the saddle. Not
that it was her fault, he just never spoke about it. And it’s not exactly
something she was going to bring up out of the blue, in case it really wasn’t
something he wanted to talk about. There were enough barriers in their
relationship. No need for him to toss up more because he was aggravated at her
asking questions.

Ariel rolled her eyes. “I was six when I said that. The
point is, he didn’t have a great life.”

“He came to you guys from foster care. I didn’t assume it
was all roses for him,” Mary Ellen pointed out. She was dense sometimes, but
not a complete moron. She hoped.

“His dad was nonexistent. And his mom was an alcoholic. Probably
still is. When she was on a bender, Brice was the responsible one. Didn’t
matter his age. He told me his first memory was at age three—he thinks. Pushing
a chair to the pantry to climb up as high as he could to look for food. There
was nothing. And his mom had been either passed out or just plain asleep for
almost days. So he ate stale dog food.”

“Oh my God.” She closed her eyes, but had to open them again
as her imagination took over and started forming the picture.

“He had to bathe himself, feed himself, get to school
himself. Nobody was going to do it for him. The most complimentary thing he
could say about his mom was that she wasn’t a violent drunk.”

“Brice doesn’t drink,” she murmured, more to herself than
Ariel.

Her friend nodded.

“I thought it was because he didn’t like to give up control
to anything, even a drink.”

“That’s part of it. But he spent the first ten years of his
life watching his mother hit the bottle and then hit the floor, face-down. His
life was in a constant state of chaos, and he couldn’t do anything about it.
For a kid like him, naturally quiet and thoughtful, that sort of life is a
certain kind of personal hell.”

Her heart hurt for him. Of course she knew Brice was
adopted. She was Ariel’s best friend, and she remembered first meeting him.
Tall, gangly, too skinny she’d thought. But his eyes intrigued her, even as
such a young child herself. They saw everything, absorbed. Wide, knowing, like
they’d seen so much.

She didn’t know at the time, and hadn’t thought about it
since, that what they’d seen hadn’t been worldly and mature, but possibly
horrifying and traumatic.

And things started to line up.

His need for control. Why he would fight it so hard. Why her
asking him to give it up caused him a serious problem.

“Oh crap.”

She’d asked something of him he very well might not be able
to do. She didn’t know, she rationalized. If she’d heard that story before,
maybe she would have been more understanding. Less pushy.

Maybe. But the odds were, she still would have fought for
control at some point. Wanted to be given the chance to lead, to be the one in
charge. Stretch her wings. But at least she would have gone about it a
different way.

I don’t just sit in corners and wait for others to do for
me. I want to lead sometimes. If that’s not something you’re capable of, well…

The words, even though she’d said them as kindly as she
could, echoed harshly in her mind. She halted Ross, let Ariel move on ahead and
sat for a moment, the quiet sounds of the woods soothing her racing heart, her
panicking mind.

What if he really couldn’t though? Give up control. If it
was all or nothing, what did she want? Nudging Ross on, she was determined to
figure the answer out by the end of their ride.

* * * * *

Brice slipped into Mary Ellen’s cabin, his new familiarity
with the room guiding him in the pitch black. After shutting the door softly,
he waited for some booby trap to trip. It’d be just her idea of fun to set
something to catch him sneaking into her place. But that was Mary Ellen. She
would always keep him on his toes.

And that was okay. He was coming to terms with that, slowly
but surely. The exhaustion of fighting their feelings for each other combined
with the thought that if he didn’t give a little, he’d lose a lot, was starting
to make the whole idea of compromise and giving up a hint of control less
painful to consider. Not comfortable. But not as painful.

Time to step out of the comfort zone.

Walking to the bed, he stood for a moment and watched the
rise and fall of Mary Ellen’s chest. Her limbs were sprawled in some ungraceful
way that made her look about two feet tall. She was so tiny, the instinct to
procure and protect welled inside him.

She, of course, would hate that with every beat of her
little independent heart. But he’d fallen for her despite their differences. Or
maybe because of them. Hard to say anymore. But Mary Ellen had slowly wormed
her way into his heart, starting at an age younger than he’d like to admit. She
was there now, fully, completely. And losing her would be the same as ripping
out his own heart.

He sat on the bed and waited for her to recognize his
presence. She did almost immediately, turning to him with sleepy awareness.

“Brice.” Her voice was rusty with sleep, giving it a deeper,
sexy quality that didn’t quite match her pixie-cute looks.

“I’m not going to apologize for coming in.” That was not at
all what he intended to say.

She smiled a little, closed her eyes again as if the effort
to keep them open was too much. “I didn’t expect you to.”

“I’m sorry. For before.”

At that, she sat up, more fully awake. Her hair stuck up
every direction, and her lids still dropped in a way that said she badly needed
the sleep he was interrupting. But they had to get this out.

“I’m the one who’s sorry.” She played with the edge of her
sheet, not meeting his eyes. “Ariel told me. About, you know. The time before
you were adopted.”

He sucked in a hard breath.
Dammit, Ariel.
He waited
for the damning pity to show in her eyes.

But there was none. Just patience, maybe some nerves, as if
she wasn’t sure if she should bring it up.

“That wasn’t her story to tell.”

“She was pretty general. Not many details. Enough to give me
an idea though. If you want to tell me more, I’ll listen.”

He shook his head. “Nothing gained from going back over it
again and again. It sucked, it’s over, I have a new family. The one I was
always supposed to have.”

She nodded. “That’s true. But I just wanted to say…I
understand. I get it. And I don’t want to give you up. So if being in control
of things, like us in bed, makes things manageable for you, then…” She smiled
tentatively. “Then that’s fine with me.”

“But it’s not fine with me.”

The emotions played over her face one at a time in quick
secession. Shock, confusion, hurt. He rushed to explain.

“I like being in charge. Of my life in general, at work, in
relationships. It’s good for me. Keeps me balanced, or at least it feels that
way. When my control over something starts to slip, I start feeling like my
balance is going. And the fear is it’ll just be a domino effect from there.”

She reached out and touched his arm, rubbing up and down.
“You don’t have to explain.”

“I do. Not just for you, but for me. I need to say this all
out loud, get a grip on it.”

She giggled.

He raised a brow. “What?”

“Nothing. Just…you’re controlling your control.”

He laughed. “Okay. Hard habit to break. But the point is, I
don’t think it’s necessarily a bad thing. Everyone has a thing that works for
them. And this is it for me.”

“I get that. I really do.” Her voice was soft,
understanding. Good. It made this easier.

“But what good is feeling balance in my life if there’s
nobody next to me? Nobody there challenging me and throwing me off a little,
making me think, keeping it interesting?”

Her breath caught, a little feminine sound that went
straight to his gut. And his cock. Now really wasn’t the time to get horny, so
he pushed back on the rising lust.

“I’m willing to try. Letting you lead sometimes. Not
always,” he added quickly when he saw her start to smile. “I can try.”

She shook her head, then nodded, then brushed a hand over
her cheek. “That’s enough for me.” She gave a laugh, and it sounded a little
watery. “Wow. That was sort of mature for us, huh?”

“I guess we both love each other enough to compromise, even
on the big stuff,” he said, pressing her back to the bed.

Her eyes widened. “What did you say?”

Panic rose up inside him, gripped him by the throat. But his
voice remained calm. “I love you, Mary Ellen. I fought it for so long. I’m
tired of fighting, and I don’t want to anymore.”

She cupped his face in her hands. “I love you too.”

He turned his head to press a kiss to the palm of her hand.
“I feel stupid, like we wasted a lot of years.”

“Maybe we just had to wait it out this long before we were
ready. Go through what we went through alone before we could be ready to deal
with it now.” Her smile twisted a little, mocking herself. “Let’s face it, at
twenty I wouldn’t have been able to find
compromise
in the dictionary.”

“Probably not,” he agreed, and earned a whack with a pillow
for it. He grinned and kissed her hard, angling his body so he could press down
on her. But she pushed back, shoving at his shoulders with her small hands
until he rolled over for her…with minimal mental resistance.