Slipping out of the tent seemed the wisest course of action. Emotions were back under control. Food was tempering the booze in Summer’s stomach. Pepper wasn’t needed.

She’d barely escaped the glow of the tent’s torches before his voice reached hers.

“Pep in your step!”

Great. He was drunk, too.

She stopped and turned to face Andy, who was weaving toward her.

“Pepper,” he slurred. “How are you, baby?” He slung a heavy arm around her shoulders, nearly toppling her to the ground.

Thank God she was barefoot. Heels and she would have ended up on her ass.

“I’m not your baby,” she said, slipping from beneath his arm and turning away.

“Pep, baby, it was one girl, one time.”

“It was at least five girls and more times than I want to know.” A slow rotation, one of her brows rising. “Plus, last I heard you were engaged to that one time. What happened? She dump you for someone with more clout?”

“You’re such a bitch,” Andy snapped. “Always have been. So fucking cold in bed that my cock about froze off. Of course I had to find someone else.”

There he was. Andy the asshole had made his reappearance.

The only good thing was finding out that his words didn’t have the power to wound her. Not any longer.

“Nice, Andy.” She rolled her eyes. “Always so classy.”

She whirled away before turning back. He wouldn’t listen, but she might as well get this off her chest. It was like puking, one always felt better after the deed was done, not worse. This would be a cathartic release for her, even though he wouldn’t care.

“I tried to be perfect for you and ended up losing myself. And for what? So you’d love me more? Be faithful to me?” She threw up both hands. “It was all for nothing. At the end of the day, I wasn’t happy with myself and, God knows, I couldn’t make you happy.”

“I’m—”

“And if we’re listing off reasons for why our relationship would have never worked, I’ve got my own set.”

“You—”

She ticked them off one by one. “First, you don’t like dogs. Second, you prefer soggy bacon. What kind of monster doesn’t like crispy bacon?” She took a breath, tried to gentle her voice. They’d had their good times. It was just the rest of it that had very nearly broken her.

The cheating. The insults. The never-measuring-up. It had reduced her to a shadow of her former self.

Thank God she’d caught him cheating. She might have never left. She might have never found herself again.

“We weren’t right for each other, Andy,” she said with a sigh. “Let’s just leave it at that.”

She started again for her suite, but a bruising grip on her upper arm stopped her.

“You can’t walk away from me—”

Before Pepper got more than a syllable of protest out there was a crunch.

Followed by cursing.

Followed by her whirling around and seeing Derek standing over Andy, who was cupping his face with both hands.

“Why the fuck did you do that?” Andy cried out, the words muffled by his palms.

“You don’t get to touch her,” Derek snapped. “Not ever.”

“Been there, done that. Wasn’t impressed.”

In one smooth movement, Derek yanked Andy up by the collar then punched him in the face again.

The crunch this time was louder, and Pepper shuddered.

“She is an amazing woman. The best one I know—”

Andy snorted.

It sounded painful.

“If I hear you say another thing about her.” Derek’s foot landed on Andy’s chest. Hard. Okay, fine, it was a kick, but a well-deserved one in her opinion. “Hell, if I hear you say her name or use that dumbass nickname of yours, then know that I will hunt you down and beat the shit out of you.”

She’d never condoned violence, never wanted a man to go all Taken or punch another because of some perceived slight against her honor, but now that it had happened, she couldn’t say she regretted Derek doing it.

Andy had been cruel, and her arm burned where he’d nearly wrenched it from its socket.

Look at her getting bloodthirsty in her old age.

And as though the word blood trailing across her mind had triggered it, Andy’s hands slipped away from his face.

Blood.

Oh God, he was bleeding.

The world went hazy.

* * *

Pepper woke to blinding light.

“Sweetheart, you okay?”

Her lids slid open then flashed shut just as quickly. Good God, that hurt. “Where are we?” she muttered.

“Bathroom,” Derek said. “You hit your head on a rock.”

She groaned. Literally the entire beach and, of course, she’d hit the only rock in the vicinity.

“You have a knot the size of Rhode Island on your forehead, but aside from that you’re fine.”

“No blood?” She cracked an eye, saw she was in the bathroom, the fluorescent lights blaring down in all their glory, and promptly slammed them shut.

Gross. Washed out. Passed out. All her flaws on display.

Yes, she was being ridiculous.

Yes, she knew.

“No blood,” he said.

The air left her in a whoosh.

“Andy, on the other hand.”

“Andy!” She sat up, her head tilt-a-whirling from the speed of her movement. Ninja skills she did not have. Blinking to clear the blurriness away, Pepper glanced at the mirror. Then promptly winced at the size of the lump above her eyebrow.

That was going to look gorgeous in wedding pictures.

“Is he okay?” she asked, gently pressing on the bump.

Derek met her gaze in the mirror. “Why would you give one iota of a fuck about that bastard?”

“Because it’s my brother’s wedding,” she said. “And I don’t want to be responsible for knocking out the best man.”

“I’m responsible for knocking out the best man.”

“That’s not—”

“And I’m happy to have done so.”

“Derek!”

“He hurt you.”

Pepper sighed. “I hurt myself. As usual.”

Derek, who’d been perched on the edge of the tub, stood and crossed to her. “He. Hurt. You.”

“I’m fine.”

A strange look crossed over Derek’s face. It almost looked like rage, except it was gone so rapidly she could almost imagine it hadn’t even been there in the first place.

“You didn’t give those bruises to yourself.” He placed one hand on the counter near her hip, eyes piercing as they held hers in the mirror. “Has he done that before?”

“Done what?”

Her breath caught when his other hand slid down her spine, rested on her hip.

“Hurt you.”

“No.”

His body caged hers in, palm moving to the counter, chest pressing against her back. He smelled so good, spicy and slightly tangy from the ocean air, wholly male and . . . and Derek.

The man was her kryptonite, the one person in the world who could make everything feel perfectly fine when the pieces were all falling apart.

Hell, he was the one who made things seem okay when the pieces were shattered and on fire and causing the rest of the world to implode.

He—

Aw crap.

So much for distance. And really, it shouldn’t be a surprise. She’d been half in love with him since she was a teenager, lusting and idolizing him in equal measure.

Of course, she loved him now.

Right when he was pulling away.

Figuratively and literally.

Because he’d been distant since their arrival . . . and because after one pregnant—not her, thankfully—moment he sighed and stepped away.

“Ice on that head,” he told her, picking up a washcloth and dropping some ice into the center of it. He balled the cotton, pressed it to her bump, and grabbed her hand to hold it in place.

“It’s fine.”

“Of course it is,” he agreed, stepping back.

The ice was cold against her skin, but not as cold as the distance between them. The space as he said, “Take care.”

The quiet click of the door as he left without another word.