Pepper wanted to be one of those people who loved getting up early in the morning, but the fact was she loved sleep.

Her bed was the best.

Soft blankets, cuddly pillows, a cozy mattress. Add in a window, cracked open an inch to let in the soothing sounds of waves, and she rarely wanted to move before the sun was high in the sky.

Unfortunately, her friend, and neighbor, had a different idea.

The doorbell rang.

With a groan, Pepper rolled over, covered her head with one of her perfect, cuddly, comfortable pillows, and ignored the chime.

Rylie would go away.

Pepper realized that she’d severely underestimated the tenacity of her friend when her voice echoed through the slightly open window.

“Ms. Pepper!”

Except, since Rylie was only six, it sounded more like “Ms. Pepah!”

She sat up and met bright brown eyes through the glass.

“Come play!”

An unwilling smile curved her lips. Once Rylie had realized that Pepper was alone in town—or friendless as the little monster called it—the six year-old had decided it was her duty to make sure Pepper was never lonely.

Even when she wanted to sleep in.

“I’m tired,” she muttered.

She winced at the sunlight pouring into the room. Okay fine, it wasn’t so much that she was tired as the entire bottle of wine she consumed the previous night.

Turned out twisty straws could be dangerous when it came to wine drinking.

“You promised we’d build a sandcastle!”

“Rylie, where are—” Samantha, Rylie’s mother, appeared breathless outside the window. “Oh no! I’m sorry, Pepper. I told her to leave you alone.”

“We’re going to build a sandcastle,” Rylie said, her bottom lip jutting out.

“You need to wait until Ms. Pepper is available, not just barge over here. Rylie, you’re only six years old. You can’t wander around without an adult.”

That lip protruded farther. “You said I was a big girl.”

“You are,” Samantha said. “Which is why you need to understand big kid rules. And one of those is not running off.”

Rylie looked so sad that Pepper wanted to say it was okay, to go out and build a hundred castles with the little girl. But Samantha was right. The world could be dangerous and if Rylie got too close to the ocean, misjudged a wave . . . Pepper shuddered to think of it.

“I need to do a few things first,” she told Rylie, pushing from the bed and padding over to the window. She raised it and continued the conversation drive-through-style. “If you give me a couple of hours, I can meet you for lunch on the beach.”

“Really?”

Pepper shoved back a strand of hair. “So long as your mom says it’s okay.”

Samantha smiled gratefully. “That’s okay with me. I’ll make up a picnic basket.”

“Oh,” Pepper said. “You don’t have to do that. I can—”

“No!” they responded in unison.

A girl makes gritty peanut butter and jelly sandwiches one time. “Sand is just a little extra fiber.”

Samantha ruffled Rylie’s hair. “This one ate enough sand as a baby to make her own beach. I’ll pass on the extra fiber.”

They waved, calling out a goodbye as they turned and walked toward their own bungalow.

“Bring your shoveling arms, Pepper!”

She flexed. “They’re already attached.” The sound of youthful giggles followed her into the bathroom.

A shower rinsed away the last of her wine brain, and she slipped on her flip flops, a T-shirt, and a ratty pair of shorts. Experience told her that sand was going to go everywhere—and she meant everywhere.

Rylie was a . . . vigorous digger.

She prattled about her kitchen for a few minutes, burning a piece of toast and starting to scrape off the blackened bits before tossing the whole thing in the trash.

What was the point?

Whatever Samantha packed for lunch was bound to be much more delicious.

It didn’t take much for Pepper to locate the duo once she’d walked out onto her front porch. Rylie’s cheerful voice carried over the dunes, ear-piercing and smile-inducing all at once.

She waved and took the stairs two at a time.

Unfortunately, not because she meant to.

Her foot missed that first step, and she ended up kind of lurch-walking down the other two, grabbing at the handle to prevent a head-first landing in the sand.

“You’re funny, Ms. Pepper,” Rylie said, having run over while she did her impersonation of a klutzy crab.

“And you’re funny looking.”

Rylie gave her a look that was way older than her six years and held out a shovel. “That’s not funny. Now come on. I want this one to be big!”

Considering that Pepper had spent near on three hours shoveling and compacting sand the last time, she shuddered to think of what big would mean.

Nevertheless, she followed Rylie’s skipping form down the beach, the picnic basket and three chairs set out around a brightly striped blanket. Samantha was curled up in one, a book in her lap.

“How soon until Brian is home?” Pepper asked.

Brian was Samantha’s husband, who travelled frequently for his work as an airline consultant.

“Tuesday.” Her friend sighed. “Four more days.”

“And when does school start back up?”

“Wednesday.” Another sigh. “I’d hoped to take a family vacation this summer.” Her lips twisted into a rueful smile. “Guess that’s not happening.”

Samantha taught third grade at the local elementary school. Not because they needed the money, but because Brian was never home. Pepper didn’t like the man for that reason—she herself was the product of a father who’d worked too much—but she especially didn’t like the lonely look in Samantha’s eyes.

If Brian wasn’t careful, he’d lose touch with both wife and daughter.

“We need more wet sand,” Pepper told Rylie, who was nearly wriggling out of her swimsuit in excitement. “Can you grab some water?”

Rylie rolled her eyes. “Which is code for girl talk.” But she grabbed a bucket and headed for the ocean.

“Are you okay?” Pepper asked.

Samantha’s eyes were on her daughter as she skipped for the wave line. “That girl has too much personality. Way too much.”

“She’ll keep you on your toes, that’s for sure,” Pepper said and waited. Samantha needed to talk or she wouldn’t have made the vacation comment. And if there was one thing Pepper was good at, it was listening.

Mainly because it involved zero amount of bodily coordination.

“Brian has been home four days this last month. Four days!”

“Four out of thirty isn’t much.”

“No, it’s not, and when I asked if he could cut back his traveling he said, flat out, no! He’s missing everything, her first lost tooth, the first time she rode her bike without training wheels.” Samantha gripped her book, mangling the edges. “Hell, he wouldn’t have even made it for her first day of school if I hadn’t thrown the epic hissy fit to end all hissy fits. Then he acted like coming back two days early from his trip was a grand inconvenience.”

She broke off, chest heaving, tanned skin flushed red, blue eyes full of hurt.

And that hurt Pepper.

“What did you do when your dad was away for months at a time on set?”

Samantha had never mentioned Pepper’s dad before. They hadn’t been friends that long, only since the beginning of summer when she’d moved in and mostly because Rylie was a force to be reckoned with, dragging Pepper along until she and her mom had become almost involuntary friends, bound over their shared amusement for a six-year-old.

But though their start might not have been traditional, Pepper and Samantha had a lot in common, and she genuinely enjoyed spending time with the other woman.

Of course, by some unspoken rule, they’d never mentioned anything more than what was superficially obvious. A shared love of wine, not being able to resist a little girl’s charm, bad reality TV.

They’d had plenty to talk about.

It had just never been anything particularly meaningful.

Until that moment.

“My dad was gone more than he was home,” Pepper agreed. “I guess I just learned to live without him.”

Learned to stop trying so hard to please him when he did finally make it home.

“That’s what I’m afraid of. I don’t want her to have to live—”

Pepper spun around at Samantha’s cut off sentence. Had Rylie—

“Holy shit,” Samantha murmured.

“Language,” she teased, breathing a sigh as she spied Rylie safe and sound. The little girl stood near the water’s edge, shouting at a man over the waves. “You’re supposed to be getting ready for the school year.”

“Shh.” Samantha swatted at Pepper’s shoulder. “Someone sees a specimen of manhood like that and language doesn’t matter.”

“I can’t believe that you just said specimen of manhood. Gross.”

“Shut up. He’s hot.”

“He’s something all right,” she muttered, her breath catching despite herself.

Because the man, who was walking out of the waves as though he was Jason Momoa in that Aquaman trailer, was Derek.

Samantha practically moaned.

“Jesus, girl. Get it together,” Pepper groused. “Of course he’s not wearing a shirt.”

“Thank God for that,” Samantha breathed.

Pepper couldn’t be mad at her, not really. Not when water sluiced down Derek’s tanned chest, all glisteny and shit. He sparkled like Edward Cullen, except ripped and without of risk of the midday sun.

“He still has a freaking six-pack.” Pepper tilted her head toward the sky, mentally cursed whatever God was at work up there. “Really?”

“Yes, he does. Wait—” Samantha tore her eyes away. “What do you mean still?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Like hell it doesn’t.” Samantha dropped her voice even though Derek, who’d completed his god-like-rising-from-the-waves business and had paused next to Rylie as she continued chatting his ear off. “You know Mr. Ass-So-Tight-I-Could-Bounce-A-Dime?”

“You haven’t even seen his ass!” Pepper protested.

Samantha lifted one blond eyebrow. “Do I need to?”

A sigh as she flopped onto her back on the blanket and threw an arm over her eyes. “No.” Derek’s ass was definitely grade A. “It could probably bounce a quarter.”

When there was no reply, Pepper lifted her arm and peered out.

Caribbean blue eyes stared back at her.

“What does bounce a quarter mean, Mommy?” Rylie asked.

Derek smiled.