by Ali Dean
Pepped Up Forever
Pepper Jones Series #5
Ali Dean
Contents
1. Jace
2. Pepper
3. Jace
4. Pepper
5. Jace
6. Pepper
7. Jace
8. Pepper
9. Jace
10. Pepper
11. Jace
12. Pepper
13. Jace
14. Pepper
15. Jace
16. Pepper
17. Jace
18. Pepper
19. Jace
20. Pepper
21. Jace
22. Pepper
23. Jace
24. Pepper
25. Jace
26. Pepper
27. Jace
28. Pepper
29. Jace
30. Pepper
31. Jace
32. Pepper
33. Jace
34. Pepper
35. Jace
36. Pepper
37. Jace
38. Pepper
39. Jace
40. Pepper
41. Jace
42. Pepper
43. Jace
44. Pepper
About the Author
Books By Ali Dean
Sneak Peek
Edited by Leanne Rabessa at Editing Juggernaut
Cover design by Sprinkles on Top Studios
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All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or, if an actual place, are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Chapter One
Jace
How did she do it? Pepper never ceased to astonish me. I heaved myself into my Jeep, my trashed muscles aching with the movement, and started the engine. The radio blared a pop song about mad love and I reached to switch the channel on instinct before changing my mind. Pepper probably loved this song. She’d always had a thing for the girly pop singers. As I rolled down the windows and pulled out from the parking spot, I took in the view of Duncan Peak, amazed I was standing on top of it earlier this morning.
Three years ago, Pepper ran that same trail and returned before eight in the morning. It took her two hours and it took me over twice that long. I wasn’t even sure I was up for the drive home, and she went for an ass-kicking hike with me that same day. The girl was seriously strong. In every way. And my mission was to be more like her.
It wasn’t easy.
A lump lodged in my throat when I passed the camping spot we’d stayed at the night before I started college. On that trip, there had been dozens of people. Last night, it was just me sitting at the campfire. Yeah, it was kind of lonely, but I had to start spending more time in my own head if I wanted to deal with my shit. Pepper once told me running was like therapy for her. She thought through everything, felt through everything, when her legs moved up hills and along trails. I was trying the running thing, but my muscles were fucking heavy. I wasn’t all long and lean like she was. Still, when I stood on top of Duncan Peak this morning, my heart racing and my quads burning, I felt closer to Pepper than I had in over a year.
The downhill was the killer though. All the pounding ripped my muscles to pieces. But being out here in the middle of summer, with no distractions, it made me see the beauty in a way I never had before. The world’s beauty was bigger than my pain, more significant than my mom’s failures, and worth living for. I was finally starting to feel again. And shit, it was painful sometimes. Being ditched by my own mother as a little kid and then again as an adult, it was a kind of rejection I didn’t want to endure, wasn’t sure I would come out of it whole. I had, but some days it was a fight to keep living and not hide like I once did. On those days, I leaned on Pepper, even if she didn’t know it. I’d think about what she would do, how she would handle it, and what she would want from me.
Annie had called me about a year after she left Brockton the second time. Well, she’d called a few times over that year, but this was the first time I’d answered. It was what Pepper would have done, I thought. Anyway, Annie told me she’d gone to rehab as a condition of parole, after spending a couple months in jail for possession – I told her good luck, but I didn’t need her in my life anymore. It was the truth, and I didn’t even do it out of spite. I had more important people to spend my time on, myself included. If I was going to work on being real in my relationships, I was going to choose who those relationships were with. And since I couldn’t have one with Pepper the way I wanted, I spent time going back down memory lane, reliving the good times, I guess. It helped me see my old self through a new lens – a perspective that made me cringe at times, but helped me move forward in an odd way, too.
Long-distance running might not be the best training for football, and I was anticipating several days of severe soreness that would set back my workouts. But it was worth it. As I forgave Annie for not loving me like I wished she had, and forgave myself for being an asshole and ruining the best thing in my life, I knew why Pepper loved to run. It had healing power like nothing else.
Chapter Two
Pepper
On busy nights like this one, the end of my waitressing shift feels like the end of a long run. My feet ache, and I’m craving a shower and a bed. Most of the tables in my section are already closed out and I’m contemplating taking a bath when I get home, but Ruthie finds me by the computer closing out a tab, and judging by the curious and awestruck expression on her face, I suspect something has come up.
“Did you see the group of guys who came in a few minutes ago?” she asks.
I shake my head and continue punching in numbers.
“I put them in the back booth. I know it’s not your section but one of them specifically asked for you.”
I raise my eyebrows in question, but she just shrugs and grins before spinning around. “Couldn’t say no, Pepper!” she calls as she walks away.
Sighing, I rub my face, wishing the place hadn’t mostly cleared out so I could claim I was too busy to take another table. But I’m in no position to refuse. Ruthie is only a few years older than me, but she is the manager on duty tonight.
Sometimes I wish I had a boyfriend just to avoid the awkwardness of getting hit on at work. I’m a terrible liar, so I can’t even fake it, like Ruthie advised me to do. For a while after Jace dumped me, guys still stayed away. At the time, it didn’t occur to me that boys didn’t flirt with me much or approach me at parties. But the residual effects of being Jace Wilder’s ex-girlfriend wore off eventually, and I had to learn to navigate the unavoidable attention. I’m nothing special, but college guys hit on everyone. They have remarkable confidence. It’s like once they leave home, they’re stripped of all their high school insecurities and suddenly believe they are capable of getting any girl’s attention. Or maybe they
just have false confidence when they drink, which is in most social situations, it seems.
I’m expecting a college guy, so when I find Clayton Dennison sitting at the center of the table, surrounded by his Rockies teammates, my steps falter momentarily before I’m able to regain my composure.
Clayton flashes the smile I’ve seen a few times recently on television and the fluttering in my stomach rises until I swallow it back down. I’m used to dealing with kind-of-famous people. But the only experience with fame I’ve had before doesn’t extend much past Brockton. The nervous anticipation that swarms through me isn’t because Clayton’s watching me intently, but because he’s surrounded by guys I’ve seen on ESPN, whose last names are worn on jerseys all over the state, the nation even. Sure, “Wilder” is quickly making its way to that status as well, but it’s different with Jace. Everything’s different with Jace.
When Clayton asks all the guys on one side of the table to slide out so he can greet me with a hug, I wish I’d made an excuse not to come over here. Now eight giant baseball players are scrutinizing me, wondering what my relationship is with their teammate.
“Um, what are you doing in Brockton, Clayton?” And why the heck are all your teammates here? “Isn’t it the middle of the season?” Last I checked, major league baseball was in full swing in mid-July.
“We’ve got a couple days off, and I haven’t been home in months. It’s great to see you, Pepper, you look really good.”
Ignoring that comment, I murmur, “Why’d you bring your teammates? You know in about twenty minutes everyone will hear you guys are here, and the place will be swamped.”
Clayton just chuckles, like he’s already so used to the fame it doesn’t affect him. “It’s even crazier in Denver. Just wanted to get away for a couple of days before we’re back on the road. It’s the only break we have for a while, and there’s not enough time to go anywhere else,” he explains.
Noticing he’s a little too close, I take a step back and ask the guys for their drink orders. Clayton has flirted with me for years and it’s never gone anywhere. He’s the kind of guy who doesn’t know how else to act around women, so I let him try to charm me, knowing he’s harmless.
Sure enough, the restaurant goes from nearly empty to capacity in less than an hour. I’m always scheduled for the opening shift so that I can be the first one to leave and get home at a reasonable hour, but tonight Ruthie begs me to stay until the 2 AM closing. Ryan is one of the bartenders tonight anyway, and since he’s my ride home and can’t get off early either, I don’t have a choice. The Tavern is more of a dining establishment, though it does have an evening bar scene. Still, the few times I’ve stayed past midnight it hasn’t been very busy.
But it isn’t every day a group of Rockies players shows up at a restaurant in Brockton, and I have to shove my way through people to get to the booth in the back. Clayton isn’t exactly a close friend, and I’m sure my annoyance at him for requesting me as his waitress is evident on my face when I deliver another round of drinks.
“Pepper, you should sit and have a drink with us. I checked with Ruthie, she said you didn’t have any other tables,” he adds before I can protest. It’s true, my section closed out for the night, even though it’s packed now. People have to order at the bar, and Ruthie made sure my only responsibility is keeping the Rockies players happy. Apparently Clayton is already on a first-name basis with my manager.
But I don’t want to argue with him or wrestle the crowds again, so I give in and let the guys make room for me in the booth. A couple of them already got up to work the crowds and flirt with women. Clayton slides his drink to me but I point to his water glass instead, and he passes it over without question.
“So, what’s new with you, Ms. Jones?” he asks, close enough that I can hear him despite the loud voices taking over the restaurant.
“The usual, Clayton,” I respond dryly. I don’t understand his apparent interest in me. I used to, I think. At least, it always seemed he wanted to flirt with me to get underneath Jace’s skin. Jace Wilder threatened Clayton’s position as Brockton’s golden boy – top athlete, most popular guy, ladies’ man – but that logic doesn’t apply anymore. For starters, Clayton doesn’t even live in Brockton these days, and his rivals for affection and fame are in a larger arena. And then there’s the obvious. I’m no longer Jace’s girl.
For some inexplicable reason, he still takes a weird pleasure in bugging me, and I sometimes find it amusing. But I’m tired tonight, and the only joy in sitting here now is that I’m off my feet. I’d ask for a foot massage too, but I don’t want to egg him on.
“The usual, huh? You mean breaking records and breaking hearts?” he asks with a smile.
“Just base training for cross season at the moment. And I haven’t broken any records recently,” I add. I’ve been a solid college runner for the past two years, but not the standout I was in high school. I’m hoping to take it to a new level this year. I’ll be a junior, and if I want the sponsorship to keep doing what I love when I graduate, I’ve got to start breaking records again.
“And breaking guys’ hearts left and right with your spare time?” He’s relentless.
“There’s a pile of devastated guys in my wake, Clayton,” I humor him. The truth is boring.
“I’m willing to risk it. Want to hang out tomorrow?” he asks cheekily.
“No thanks,” I answer without hesitating.
He clutches his chest dramatically and a couple of his teammates give him a hard time for being turned down. “It’s not the first time,” he admits to them. “I’ve been asking her out for years and she always says no.”
One of the guys sporting a wiry beard and chubby cheeks offers me a fist-bump and a solemn nod. “Don’t cave, Ms. Jones. Stay strong.”
“Thanks,” I murmur uncertainly.
“Women should never trust a rookie to the major leagues. Newfound fame and monogamy don’t mix,” another dude with a huge neck advises.
A guy with caramel skin laughs at that. “Right, Mitch, you would know, wouldn’t ya?”
The guys trade jokes about their reputations, and I feel like I’m being initiated as one of the players on the Rockies or something. It’s seriously weird. Why should I be privy to this information? Shouldn’t they be more discreet? I could be a reporter for all they know. But Clayton’s invitation to join them must have meant something, because by closing time they’re claiming they’ll come to cheer me on at a cross meet this fall. Yeah. Right. They don’t even seem drunk, yet are ribbing me like I’m just another dude.
I’ll admit I’m actually kind of enjoying myself when Ryan comes over to get me. The place has cleared out, but Ruthie didn’t want to disturb our special guests, even though she made the rest of the patrons leave promptly at 2 AM. Special treatment for special people, I guess. That must be a motto in the restaurant business.
I haven’t had anything to drink, but my head buzzes a little when I slide out of the booth. I mean, I just spent over an hour conversing with Rockies players. Baseball isn’t even really my thing, but maybe that helped my cause. Surely they get tired of talking about their sport all the time.
Clayton backed off with his blatant flirting, but I still expect some sort of invitation to drive me home, even if it’s just a joke. Instead, after exchanging a few “Hey, dude, how’s it going?” sentences with Ryan, he leaves me with a non-sexual hug. He must have decided it wasn’t worth embarrassing himself again.
Ryan doesn’t hold back his curiosity on the ride home. “Buddies with the Rockies team, Pepper? I didn’t see that one coming,” he teases.
Laughing, I agree. “Yeah, that was not a scene I expected to fit in with, but those guys are funny. Crude, but funny.”
Ryan just shakes his head, laughing with me or at me, I can’t tell.
“Does Clayton still have a thing for you?” he asks easily, like it’s not a weird question for an ex-boyfriend, or any guy, to ask a girl. The ex-boyfriend thing isn’t all
that relevant at this point I guess, since it’s been nearly four years, but I still shift in my seat, the question making me uncomfortable. It holds more weight than he realizes.
“I’m not sure he ever had a thing for me, Ryan,” I admit.
Ryan swings his gaze from the road for a moment to shoot me a miffed expression. “What? I remember him trying to get your attention when you were with Jace.”
“Yeah,” I say on an exhale. Talking about when I was with Jace isn’t as hard as it used to be, but it still brings a pang to my chest. “That was just Clayton being a macho dude who wanted to try pissing off Jace.”
Ryan nods, contemplating this. “Yeah, well, he seems to still want you, Pepper. Just be careful, he’s got quite a reputation.”
It’s hard to get annoyed with someone like Ryan, who usually seems well-meaning. “Really, Ryan, you don’t need to play big brother here.” With Jace and Wes, I already grew up with two guys trying to protect me. Turns out one of them was probably the most dangerous of anyone.
Ryan laughs good-naturedly. “Sorry – it was just a funny sight, seeing you at the booth surrounded by major league baseball players. I feel obligated to warn you, but I’m pretty sure you can handle yourself so I’ll shut up now.”
