It really was a gorgeous place to get married.

Pepper she stared out along the beach. The sun was just descending, a bright orange orb that hung behind her brother and Summer. They couldn’t have timed the ceremony better, and the pictures—colorful sky, deep blue waves, pale sand—would be incredible.

This should have been her wedding and yet . . . she couldn’t find room in her heart to be sad.

Yes, she was confused about Derek and his hot and cold, snappy then caring whiplash moods. Yes, the welt on her head hurt like hell. But no, she couldn’t be sad that she’d skipped out on marrying Andy.

“And I now pronounce you man and wife,” the officiate said.

Summer and Paul kissed, the small group of guests cheered, but Pepper’s voice was caught in her throat.

Because of Derek.

Because of the way he watched her.

The noise of the crowd faded, the crash of the waves disappeared. The rest of the world fell away. It was her and Derek and—

He came to her.

Maybe he’d apologize for the distance. Perhaps she’d understand. Need was in his eyes as he closed the space between them.

And—

Then his face went blank.

“Let’s go,” he said, taking her arm and yanking her forward.

She stumbled but recovered quickly, or basically Derek held her steady until she regained her footing.

“What—”

“We need to move,” he hissed.

Just that quickly, everything—the noise, the crowd, the videographer—flashed back into her mind. The sudden cacophony nearly knocked her backward.

Except she was made of sterner stuff.

Straightening her spine, she walked down the sandy aisle with Derek.

Andy glared at her from the back row of chairs, raccoon eyes in full effect, bandage across the bridge of his nose.

Considering the amount of concealer it had taken to cover the bruises on her arm and the goose egg on her head, she didn’t feel bad.

“Come on,” Derek snapped when her feet stalled again.

Her fingers tightened on his arm, nails digging deep into his skin. “Why are you being such a jerk?”

“I’m trying to do the right thing,” he gritted out, hand coming over, ostensibly to cover hers, but in reality, he gripped her fingers and forced them to loosen. “And seeing you up there—”

He clamped his mouth shut, stalling the words.

Seeing her up there?

She waited until they’d passed by the photographer and were standing behind the staging area for the reception. They’d await orders for their next duties.

“What did you mean? Seeing me?”

He shook his head, kept his stare determinedly averted.

And Pepper had had enough. “How is treating me like crap the right thing?”

“I’m—” He clenched his jaw. “I’m not—I’m trying to make things right.”

She yanked her arm free. “Yeah? By hurting my feelings? By pushing me away?”

“I want your father to know—”

“What?” Peter O’Brien’s booming voice cut through the space between them. “What do you need me to know?”

Derek froze, eyes sliding shut for one long moment. Then he sighed and said, “The contract—”

“You play hard ball, Cashette. I offered you a damn good contract, but since you undertaking Pepper has brought about a whole slew of other complications, I’ll double my contribution.”

Derek’s lids flashed open. “I—”

“Fine. Marry the girl and you’ll get triple.”

“That’s—”

“Dad!”

Peter smirked. “Too soon? Well, her dowry—oh I’m sorry, I’m not supposed to mention words like that any longer. Let’s just say that if you take this O’Brien girl off the market, you’ll never have to worry about contracts again.”

She waited. She actually waited for Derek to say something, to stand up for her, to tell her father to fuck the fuck off.

But Derek didn’t.

Instead, he just stared at Peter, glancing back and forth between him and Pepper. His face was ashen, his eyes ashamed.

And that’s when Pepper knew.

“This was never about us, was it?”

Derek’s face hardened. “How can you say that?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she ground out. “Probably because you’ve pulled me in and pushed me away too many times to count. Or maybe it’s the fact that my father is paying you to marry me? I thought”—she shook her head—“I thought that maybe we were different. That all of the other shit was just complications. I thought you cared for me.”

Derek was suddenly in her face. “I do care about you. Your father—”

“Will rip off your arms if you don’t give her some space.”

“We’re—”

Pepper stepped away from Derek and turned to face her father.

“This is not 1840,” Pepper snapped. “And I’m not some scandal you need to take care of.” Her voice cracked. “I can fight my own battles. I’m not a child.”

“You’re acting like one,” Peter intoned.

It would always be like this, Pepper realized. She would never be an adult in her father’s eyes, never be worthy and mature or beautiful and accomplished.

She was just Pepper.

And while that wasn’t good enough for the O’Briens—or apparently for Derek—that was good enough for her.

It had to be.

She couldn’t continue to live her life otherwise. Not when she was worried about stepping one toe out of line. Or panicked that she would screw up again.

The thing was . . . the more she freaked out, the more havoc she wreaked.

Train wrecks—at least in the form of Oscar-winning actors ending up with broken noses and Ferraris crashing through movie sets—happened when she was stressed.

Oh, she was klutzy as hell and would probably always be injuring herself, but that was okay.

She was okay.

She just wasn’t perfect.

And dammit, that was fine, too.

“Pepper,” Derek began.

“No,” she said and took a step away from her father, from Derek and the rest of the bridal party. “Not now.”

The wedding planner had pulled Summer and Paul to the side and was positioning them as they took photographs.

The bridal party would be next.

“Pepper,” Derek said. “It’s not like you think.”

She whirled around, ready to give him a set of black eyes that rivaled Andy’s, but the planner, still looking remarkably pale from her bout with food poisoning, called them over.

They took a multitude of pictures, ate many courses of meals. She gave a toast that didn’t end in disaster, participated in a half dozen dances with the male members of the wedding party, and one unfortunate coed rendition of the electric slide. The bouquet toss was even relatively uneventful, despite a bridesmaid—not her for a change—ending up with a black eye.

Hey, just because she ducked didn’t mean it was her fault.

By the end of the night, she’d seen a tipsy Summer and Paul off on their little decorated electric cart—driver included, of course. She’d made sure gifts were packed away, that they stayed paired with their respective cards. Hell, Pepper even ensured that Uncle Ike got his drunk tush back to his suite.

Only then did she leave the festivities.

But instead of going to her room, to sit down and cry because her heart felt shredded, she walked along the beach.

The moon was full, but after the lanterns and candles and twinkly lights, it still took her eyes awhile to adjust. She spotted the dock she’d seen earlier, only this time instead of being crowded with boats and fishermen, it was empty. The wooden planks were warm and rough beneath her bare feet as she walked its length.

She stopped, brushed her soles free of sand, and picked her way to the end, sitting and dangling her legs over the edge. Water swooshed against the wooden pylons, a rhythmic swish-swash.

Derek was her conundrum, and she didn’t know what to do.

She shouldn’t be mad. He’d made it clear time and again that her father was the reason he was in Stoneybrook. Hell, the reason he was taking such an interest in her in the first place.

The problem was . . .

She sighed, laid back. The problem was that she’d started thinking that things were different. She’d forgotten she was an assignment, a stepping-stone from one place to the next.

So now her feelings were hurt, and what was she going to do about it?

Mope? Cry to her father.

Pepper snorted.

“Always did think you were a comedian.”