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Train Wreck (Life Sucks Book 1) by Elise Faber (2)

2

Fate Can Be A Real Bitch Sometimes

Pepper was pinned to the ground.

Except it wasn’t two tons of metal pressing her to the concrete. Instead, a hard, heavy—she sniffed and caught the spicy scent of sandalwood—male body was atop her.

“Are you all right?” the man asked as he leaned back.

She saw his face and frowned, something familiar about his features. A five o’clock shadow on a strong jaw, a narrow nose, a top lip just slightly larger than the bottom.

“Hey, did you hit—?”

That voice. Smooth as velvet with the hint of roughness beneath. The glimpse of a dimple. No. Make that two dimples. Caribbean blue eyes, a scar across his right brow—

A scar she’d put there during a childhood baseball game gone wrong.

“Son of a bacon bit!”

It was Derek.

Derek had saved her.

As in, handsome-as-sin, her brother’s friend, Derek. As in the boy who’d seen her grow up, creating disaster in every possible moment, who’d ignored the monster crush she had on him, who’d never laughed, who’d looked on with compassion—

And pity.

Pepper couldn’t forget the pity. That had squashed the crush right out of her.

She had some pride after all.

Derek shifted on top of her. “Umm. I’m all for bacon and bits, I guess? But are you okay?” he asked. Apparently, it was small potatoes to have saved a woman from being crushed to death.

Unfortunately, aside from that general concern, there wasn’t a slice of recognition in sight.

Couldn’t he have gotten uglier in the five years since she’d seen him?

If fate was kind, Derek would have gone bald. Or maybe gained a pouch, one of those jiggly tires around the middle that were prevalent on her father’s producer friends.

Instead, he was long and lean and—she shuddered, her heart going all squiggly—rock-hard muscle.

Life really sucked sometimes.

“I’m okay,” she said, and if her voice was breathless it was because she’d just been tackled to the ground after almost being run over by a car, not because Derek was poised over her, his mouth inches from hers.

Not at all.

Okay, it was totally that. Sweet baby Jesus, he was still the hottest man she’d ever seen.

Jet-black hair. Pale blue eyes. A square jaw, lush lips, and dimples. The man had honest-to-God dimples.

“Did you hit your head?” he asked. His fingers were already in her hair, one large hand having cradled her skull from impact.

He was a superhero, a phenomenon, a melter of hearts—

Or rather, of panties.

Pepper couldn’t forget those, not when hers wanted to slide down her thighs and shoot off her feet. Not when she’d witnessed firsthand the parade of girls through his life.

“Nope.” She shifted, wincing when her hair tangled on his fingers. “My head feels fine.”

“Hang on,” he said, smiling and making her heart actually skip a beat. Deftly, he extracted his hand and placed it on the ground near her shoulder. “I’m glad you’re not hurt.” He paused and tilted his head to the side. “You actually look familiar. Do I know you?”

“You’re Derek,” she murmured, adding when his brows raised in surprise but not recognition, “You went to school with my brother. Paul.”

Her brother’s name was enough, though, and to her disappointment, Derek pushed himself back and stood. Immediately, she missed the weight of him, the heat, the spicy scent. “You’re not Paul’s little sister?”

He took a step away from her, eyes darting from side to side, panic clouding his expression.

Awesome.

She’d had her fair share—okay more than her fair share—of disasters, but a man had never looked at her like she was the plague.

Okay, that wasn’t true.

She’d just never had a man as hot as Derek react that way.

Not true either.

Ugh. Why couldn’t her inner monologue give her a break?

That wasn’t her style and, truth was, she’d never cared when men avoided her. But Derek was different. He had always been different.

She sighed. He’d always meant more.

“Yes,” she said, forcing a smiling and carefully sitting up. “Paul’s my brother.”

Sirens blared in the background, steadily coming closer, and Pepper realized that a crowd had formed around them. People stared at her and yet, instead of wearing the usual disappointed expressions from home—bummed that her latest entertaining disaster was over—they all seemed concerned.

Concern aside, it was strange to not be responsible for the current predicament.

Well, at least not responsible for the car adorning the sidewalk like a seriously messed-up art project.

Though Pepper had been standing on the street corner with cars cruising by. With her danger-magnet being extra powerful, she should have known better than to tempt fate.

Still—her gaze flicked around the gathered crowd—it was really bizarre to not have a dozen cell phones pointed in her direction, recording every moment of her screw-up.

“Pepper.” Derek crouched down next to her, drawing her focus. “It’s really you.”

She tried to keep her words light. They sounded tired anyway. “Yup, I’m still me.”

“Wow.” Derek blinked at her for another moment before grabbing her hand and helping her to her feet. He frowned as he stared at her palms. She glanced down and was surprised to see large scrapes covering the surface.

Not that she was feeling them.

Adrenaline, from both the car and Derek, had begun to hit her hard. She wasn’t in any pain, but she was shaking. Or rather, trembling.

“I’m sorry,” Pepper said when she stumbled. “I think I need to sit down.”

Without preamble, Derek scooped her up into his arms and began walking. She glanced over his shoulder as they passed the car that was perched haphazardly on the sidewalk.

Steam snaked out from under the hood and the engine made a horrible hissing noise. Worse was the arrow sign, which lay shredded beneath one wheel.

This wasn’t her fault, but Pepper had the feeling she was so getting fired.

Two men had opened the driver’s side door and were helping an elderly woman from the car. She had a cut along her forehead and blood had stained a large portion of her white hair.

Pepper shuddered.

“I was just trying to read the sign,” the older woman said in a feeble voice. “It seemed like such a good deal.”

“Don’t look,” Derek said, shifting her so she couldn’t see the blood. Instantly, her stomach settled. “You’re safe now.”

Pepper certainly felt safe wrapped up in his arms.

Which wasn’t the point.

“I just stood there like an idiot. Frozen.” Her teeth chattered, and she ground them together to try to stop the vibration.

Derek shrugged, making her body press tighter against his chest. She was the dumbbell to his biceps curl.

Not a bad place to be, all things considered.

“Fight or flight,” he said, and then his lips did the most wonderful thing. They curved up slightly, revealing the smallest flash of those devastating dimples.

Pepper actually felt her heart skip a beat.

Until he spoke again and she had to wonder if all his DNA had gone into forming those little hollows rather than brain power.

“You chose to fight.”

Her breath came out in a little rush. “Fight the car? You’re crazy.”

Derek chuckled and bent to set her on a bench. “Insults. That’s better. For the other, plenty of time to berate yourself later.”

A frown pulled her brows together. Men. She didn’t understand them. “You don’t make any sense.”

“Maybe,” he said and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “But at least you don’t look like you’re about to pass out anymore.”

Pepper felt better, too. Not that she was going to tell him that. Derek’s confidence was a tangible thing radiating in the space around her. She didn’t need to add to his ego.

“So you’re suggesting my subconscious was telling me I could take on that car?” She rolled her eyes. “With what? My hidden superhero powers?”

“I could see you punching the hood then casually tossing it to the side.” He sat next to her. “I seem to remember you being like a force of nature when I used to visit your brother.” He paused, gaze sliding down her body in a long, slow circuit before returning his mischievous blue eyes to hers. “Though you look a little different now.”

Pepper snorted. “Boobs will do that to a girl. And I’m not much different”—she flicked a hand in the direction of her scalp—“not with this fire-engine red hair.”

The conversation was helping to get rid of the hormones flooding her body—or at least the adrenaline—so she was no longer trembling.

Of course, she was aware of Derek with every single cell in her body, but that was a problem for a completely different day.

He tugged the end of her ponytail. “True. I could never forget this hair.” A beat. “So what are you doing in Stoneybrook?”

Now wasn’t that the question of the hour?