Pepper stared at the doorway of the private jet as though it were the entrance to the gallows.

“Come on,” Derek said. “It’s not as bad as that.”

She remembered the last time she’d seen Andy, balls deep in his assistant, and shuddered.

It was why she’d left for Stoneybrook. The final straw after her reckless endangerment of Hollywood—studio spaces and stars alike.

“It’s pretty bad,” she muttered, carefully climbing the set of metal steps leading up into the plane. They were covered in a red carpet (because of course they were) that appeared decidedly out of place in the regional airport outside of town.

Then again, everything seemed out of place in the quaint city, an assault on the slice of sanctuary she’d created for herself.

A slice that now included Derek.

Swallowing hard, Pepper stepped through the doorway. Plush cream leather, tan carpet, a fleet of stewardesses awaiting her every whim.

“We’ll be on our way in a jiffy, Ms. O’Brien,” the pilot said cheerily. He was young, perhaps even younger than her, and sexy—usage of the word jiffy aside. Tall, tan, bright white teeth. No scruff, she thought, tilting her head slightly as he turned away.

Some scruff on that chin would have definitely been the cherry on top.

Or maybe that was his a—

Derek grunted and slid by her, shooting a dark look toward the captain. “He said jiffy.”

Pepper’s lips twitched. “So he did, but that doesn’t mean he’s not pretty to look at.”

“And they say men are pigs.”

“What would that make me? A sow?”

He snorted, but his eyes were amused. “I’m not touching that one.”

She laughed and closed the distance between them. “I happen to like it when you touch me.”

Amusement went by the wayside. The heat in his gaze seared right through her. “I know.”

Whew. She pulled at the collar of her shirt. Was it hot on the plane? It wasn’t, of course, but when Derek got all deep and dark and growly, her insides turned straight into mush.

“Mimosa?” the stewardess asked.

Pepper didn’t know this one’s name, in fact, she didn’t know any of their names. Which was a jerk move on her part she supposed, but turnover of O’Brien flight attendants tended be high.

Most thought it was the ticket to the big leagues, and when it proved not to be the easy road to a starring role in a blockbuster . . .

Yeah. They didn’t hang around long.

She accepted the glass and thanked the beautiful, blond, bouncy woman genuinely. Most of that genuineness came from Derek not paying her the least bit of masculine attention.

She’d ogled the pilot nearly into submission and now was happy that Derek had ignored the buxom flight attendant.

Double standards existed and in this case, she couldn’t find the proper amount of outrage.

Pepper was just happy that Derek only seemed to have eyes for her.

Of course, Andy had once been that way too.

No.

She pushed that cruel little voice out of her mind, buckled her seatbelt, and held on.

This ride with Derek was one she wasn’t going to poison with doubts. She was on edge because she was going to an event that should have been her wedding and had to play nice with her cheating, ex-fiancé.

That didn’t matter because she was with Derek.

This time was different.

Until it wasn’t.

* * *

Pepper didn’t recognize the slight change in tenor between her and Derek at first.

Initially, it was landing and deplaning, customs and finding their car, checking into the hotel. If Derek didn’t hold her hand in the lobby it was because they were both carrying too many things. If he seemed sharp with her when she asked why he’d gotten his own room, it was because he was tired.

If he dropped her at her door with the barest peck on the cheek it was because her mother was waiting impatiently in the hall and needed her immediately. Derek was being considerate and taking care of her bags.

“It’s all chaos,” her mother hissed, yanking her down the hall and away from Derek. “That cow—”

Pepper gasped. “Summer isn’t—”

“No,” Poppy snapped. “That woman is a control freak.”

“What woman?”

“Her mother.”

The two words may as well have been a curse for as violently as Poppy spat them. They also should not have made Pepper’s lips twitch.

She glanced back over her shoulder at Derek.

He stood outside their rooms and was glaring down at his phone, typing furiously. But as though he felt her eyes on him, he glanced up.

She mouthed, “Are you okay?”

He nodded, but his smile was off.

Not that she had the chance to investigate it since Poppy was towing her down the hallway. They burst through a door and into a room filled with . . . well, chaos.

Summer was crying. A makeup artist was armed with a tissue in one hand and a tube of concealer in the other. A pink dress was draped on a hanger, marred with a huge red smear of something—

Pepper’s eyes flew heavenward. Please not blood. Please not blood.

One of the bridesmaids—or a woman she presumed was a bridesmaid, since she’d never met any of the bridal party except Andy and Derek—was on her phone, her face pale, her tone panicked.

“Why would you do that?” Summer shrieked at her. “Ketchup in a bridal suite! Ketchup!”

Well, at least it wasn’t blood.

Poppy left Pepper, crossing to Summer and was nearly elbowed out of the way when Summer’s mother shoved herself between them. A terse discussion ensued as both accused the other of upsetting Summer the most.

Pepper sighed and walked across the room, plucking the dress from where it was hung on the back of a door then left the suite and headed for the front desk.

“Kitchen?” she asked.

“Uh—w-why?” the college kid behind it stammered out.

Pepper knew she looked strange, carrying a neon pink dress—that must be clashing horribly with her bright ass hair—and asking for directions to a place where guests didn’t normally go, but she did not have time for this.

So she channeled her inner Peter O’Brien and fixed him with a glare that would send lesser minions running. “Tell me where the kitchens are.”

He caved. She smiled. Maid of honor duties, yup, she was rocking them.

Unfortunately, when she spun around she realized the little man-child hadn’t actually caved because of her glare and tone.

He’d crumpled because her father was behind her, arms crossed, brows pulled down imperiously, the groomsmen—including Andy, Derek, and Paul—gathered behind him.

“Baby girl,” he father boomed, leaning close to give her air kisses. Never real hugs. Nor kisses. Always air. Always for show. “Derek here tells me you were no trouble on the plane, but”—he laughed, glanced down at the stained dress in her hands—“I see that disaster didn’t stay away for long.”

He turned and thumped Derek’s shoulder. “Told you she needs a keeper.”

Derek’s eyes were icy cold. “I don’t—”

“Want to be her keeper?” Andy chimed in. His cruel laughter slithered down Pepper’s spine and she shivered. “Join the crowd, bro.”

She rolled her eyes and started to walk away, but Paul caught her arm.

“I knew you’d ruin something,” he hissed. “That’s Summer’s—”

“Pepper just got here,” Derek said. “She couldn’t have—”

“Trust me,” Paul said. “She could.”

“Hey. Just ignore him,” Pepper said, turning her back on her brother and lightly touching Derek’s chest. “I—”

He jumped back, as though her touch was a rattlesnake bite.

The slice of pain across her heart might as well have been one.

Derek thrust a hand through his hair, glanced over her shoulder. “Peter, could I have a moment?”

“Derek,” she began.

“Not now,” he said.

“I—”

“Later,” he snapped.

Andy laughed. “Need a firm hand with our Pep here.”

“Pep,” Derek said, eyes cool as they fixed her in place. “Needs to go take care of that dress.”

What the hell?

Her breath hitched, her eyes burned. The nickname, the dismissal.

Derek was next to her father by the time she recovered, his phone out again as he scrolled through some document on the screen. He said something to Peter, but just as her father began to respond, his assistant came up to the pair, and Derek was pushed out of the conversation.

His jaw tightened, his hand burrowed through his hair again, and as the conversation between her father and his assistant continued, Derek’s shoulders slumped. His phone went back into his pocket, and he crossed over to her.

“I’ll see you at the party,” he said, fingers brushing the back of her hand as he walked away.

Pepper stood there for a moment as he disappeared, shocked and hurt and confused. She wanted to go after him, because Derek was obviously upset by something, but this wasn’t the place to hash it out.

They could do that . . . she sighed, pushed the sting of his words away, later.

* * *

And if by later she meant, after she’d managed to baking-soda-out the stain and use a blow dryer to dry the dress, or when she waited for him to escort her to the coed bridal shower that she was now late for—

Hell. She didn’t know what any of it meant.

Their flight had been uneventful, quiet, as they’d read their respective books.

She hadn’t done anything and . . .

She hated her first thought was that she had.

“Chin up.”

Her bag was on the table by the sliding glass doors leading out to the ocean. A floor-to-ceiling view of the setting sun, pale white sand turned shades of pink and red and orange, turquoise waves tipped in white.

It was paradise.

And it still broke her heart. Just the slightly damaged portion, cracking off the corner, making old wounds ache all over again.

Andy had been different.

Or she’d thought so anyway.

Their wedding was supposed to have been a new start for her, and while she was relieved she’d discovered what a snake Andy was before their vows and content that her future had taken a new turn, presumably with Derek—though given their last interaction she was unsure of what had seemed so certain on the mainland—she couldn’t help but feel as though things hadn’t really changed.

She was still a mess. Still fumbling her way through life. She didn’t—

The swirling emotions set her spinning.

Worry made her see things where there was nothing—

Her breath caught as Derek left his suite, next door to hers, and headed down the beach to a white tent filled with tables and flowers, lit with torches and twinkly lights.

He didn’t glance back.

Not once.

Those emotions were her downfall.

Especially the ones that made her see something instead of nothing.

Which really sucked because she had the feeling that the something instead of nothing in this case was her believing that she and Derek had been different and realizing . . . she wasn’t.

That they weren’t.

He was working for her father, after all.

Crumble went her heart. Up went her chin, stiff went her spine. Maybe she had made a mistake. Maybe Derek was a jerk who’d used her.

But she wouldn’t let him break her.

Life went on. No one cared about her hurts, her tears.

And they shouldn’t. Not this week, not when her brother was getting married.

She picked up her purse and walked out the door.

The sand was cold beneath her bare toes.

Just like her heart.