Thank God for waterproof mascara.

And cold ocean breeze.

She paused by a bench just off the beach, ostensibly to slip on the heels Samantha had loaned, but really to catch her breath.

Dimples. A plump bottom lip. A hard body that felt too right against hers.

A man that would break her.

Into way more pieces than Andy ever had.

The heels were gorgeous . . . and leather death traps. But sometimes a girl had to risk all for fashion, and this was one of those times.

Pepper needed to feel pretty.

The click-click of her high heels against the sidewalk paired with the hem of her silk dress teasing the outsides of her thighs did the trick.

And concentrating on not murdering herself on the slightly uneven slate sidewalk did the rest.

Derek was out. Rob was in.

She strode into Bert’s Burgers and enjoyed the fact that she didn’t trip when every pair of eyes swung in her direction.

Granted, she was a little overdressed for the occasion—

“You look amazing,” Rob stood just inside the door, clad in a pair of jeans and a polo shirt.

“This old thing?” She winked . . . or attempted to anyway.

Concern clouded his face. “What’s wrong with your eye?”

Mentally rolling those eyes—because, really, she didn’t want Rob to think she was having a seizure or something—Pepper forced a smile. “Nothing. Should we sit down?”

“Oh.” He straightened, mock-bowed, and extended an arm. “Of course, milady.”

That fake smile turned into a real one. The man was too much. “You’re a dork.”

“And your laugh is beautiful.”

Her breath caught. “I—” Words clogged up in her throat. She looked at him . . . really looked at him.

He was serious. When had fire-engine red hair and pale-as-hell skin ever been considered beautiful? Pepper was the living embodiment of a Raggedy Ann doll, and no one thought that patchwork of a mess was gorgeous.

“Come on,” he said, tugging her forward.

Since words were still failing her, she followed Rob to a booth.

They sat on opposite sides of the table and stared at each other.

At least until he got up and crossed to her side. “Scoot over,” he ordered.

She shifted toward the wall. He slid in. She stilled, waiting for it. Waiting for the heat to wash over her like it did with Derek, for goose bumps to spread over her arms, for her heart to squeeze.

It didn’t.

Not even when Rob put his hand over hers and murmured, “Hi.” She grimaced, he winced. “Too much?”

Pepper answered honestly. “Yes.”

A wry smile crossed his lips. He was cute and seemed sweet, but he wasn’t Derek.

“I’ll go back to my side in a minute,” he said. “Just tell me two things first”—his eyes flicked over their shoulders—“Who’s the guy glaring daggers at me, and was he the one who made you cry?”

She felt it then.

The slow burn of sensation as heat trickled from her toes upward, spread down her arms, through her torso. Pulse increasing. Insides knotting.

Derek.

“Why do you think I’ve been crying?” she asked instead of answering.

Rob rolled his eyes. “Because I was married.”

“And marriage gives you the power to read minds?”

“No,” he said. “But it did make me observant.” He brought his hand up, touched the skin at the top of her cheekbones. “Red and puffy eyes. Flushed cheeks.” His finger swiped the corner of her lashes. “A rogue tear. What happened?”

“I—”

“Pepper.”

She’d felt Derek coming near.

Felt it just as effectively as a dog sniffing out bacon. Her body stiffened, flared to life.

She glanced up. Derek was glaring at her. Well, he was being generous with that glare, and it extended to Rob as well. “What?”

“I need to talk to you.”

Rob looked at her, raised a brow, but as cute as he was, she could hardly focus on him.

When Derek was near, it was hard to see anything else.

“Ah. I understand,” Rob said. “I get it now.” He leaned in to whisper in her ear, “Jump. Go for it. I’m so glad I did.”

Before she could respond—hell, even as the meaning of his words was processing through her Derek-addled mind—he slid from the table and headed for the door.

“Rob—” she began and started to stand.

Derek sat down next to her.

Rob gave a half smile. “See you around, sunshine.”

She pushed Derek’s shoulder. “Let me out.”

“Why?” he snapped. “So you can chase after the man like a—”

“What will you have to drink?” a gruff voice asked.

Pepper called on every ounce of her patience to not sock Derek right in the jaw and smiled up at Bert. “I’m not staying, I’m afraid.”

“She’ll have a chocolate milkshake. I’ll have a water,” Derek said and before she could protest, Bert nodded and walked away, wisps of white hair swishing as he went.

“I’m not—”

“Hear me out.”

“Why?” she crossed her arms when shoving at Derek’s shoulder didn’t budge him an inch. “So you can interrupt me seventeen more times?”

“It was one time if we’re being precise.”

She threw her hands up. “I’m never precise. I’m chaos and disorder and—”

“Color and life and—”

“Stop interrupting me!”

“You’re stunning in that color, Pepper,” Derek said. “The green matches your eyes, and your body”—he shook his head—“grown men are crying right now.”

“And what?” She jerked her head in the direction of her chest. “Just because I have breasts now, you’re interested in me? No, thanks. Go get another skanky conquest.”

“That’s unfair.”

“You know what’s unfair? You being as gorgeous and hot as you are. Dimples for God’s sakes! Two of them!”

Those little indents made an appearance.

“See! They make women stupid and—”

“Your father wants me to keep tabs on you.”

Outrage was such a bolstering emotion.

So much better than the humiliation that trailed through her at his words.

“Chocolate shake. Water.” Bert plunked the glasses on the table. “Be back in a minute.”

“Excuse me,” Pepper said.

“Pep,” Derek said.

“Don’t use that fucking name,” she gritted. God, this was enough. She’d come to Stoneybrook wanting a fresh start.

Instead, all she’d gotten were painful slaps of reality.

She wanted, needed to escape. To forget.

“I’m—”

Screw it.

She picked up the milkshake and . . . dumped it on Derek’s lap.

With a curse, he jumped up, swiping at his crotch. Pepper took her opportunity and rushed out of the booth.

Unfortunately, she went too fast.

Her spiked heel slid on the puddle of milkshake gathering on the floor, and she skidded, arms flailing, feet skating on the slick surface. And—

Down. She. Went.