Pepped Up & Wilder (Pepper Jones Book 6)

by Ali Dean

  Pepped Up & Wilder

  Pepper Jones #6

  Ali Dean

  Copyright

  Copyright © 2018 Ali Dean.

  Edited by Leanne Rabessa at Editing Juggernaut

  Cover design by Hang Le

  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.

  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.

  This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it to the seller and purchased your own copy. Libraries are exempt and permitted to share their in-house copies with their member and have full thanks for stocking this book. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  1. Pepper

  2. Pepper

  3. Pepper

  4. Jace

  5. Pepper

  6. Pepper

  7. Pepper

  8. Jace

  9. Pepper

  10. Pepper

  11. Pepper

  12. Pepper

  13. Pepper

  14. Jace

  15. Pepper

  16. Pepper

  17. Jace

  18. Pepper

  19. Pepper

  20. Pepper

  21. Jace

  22. Pepper

  23. Pepper

  24. Pepper

  25. Pepper

  26. Pepper

  27. Pepper

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Also by Ali Dean

  Sneak Peek

  Chapter One

  Pepper

  I hardly recognize the woman in the full-length mirror staring back at me. She’s wearing a long black dress with a slit mid-thigh. The front plunges down to expose the space between her breasts and a flash of abs, but despite the show of skin, the expensive material and elegant straps scream sophistication. I turn to the side, taking in the way the fabric clings to the butt in the mirror, the exposed back with a wicked sports bra tan line. I sigh in relief at the familiarity of those lines on my back. Is it weird that the imperfection to this getup is comforting to me?

  In the mirror, I watch as a man in a tuxedo walks into the bedroom of the hotel suite. As he moves toward me, I imagine we’re in one of those cheesy commercials for diamonds or expensive jewelry. I’m embarrassed for us. We’re not glamorous people. It’s like we’re playing dress-up.

  “What are you giggling about, Mrs. Wilder?” I love when Jace calls me that. There was no Mrs. Wilder growing up, so it’s not weird. It’s my own. But it’s Jace’s too.

  “Who are we right now?” I ask. Jace’s hands slide around my hips and I lean back into his chest as we gaze at our reflections.

  “I don’t know about you, but I feel like James Bond in this thing.”

  My smile widens. “I know. Right? It feels like a costume. I don’t even really look like me.”

  “You’re still you,” he says, his lips dropping to my neck. “Just another gorgeous version. Running clothes, pajamas, designer dress, it’s all a tease to me. A reminder that I’m the luckiest guy in the world.”

  When Jace says things like this, I remember how far we’ve come. The boy who was too scared to admit his feelings to himself, much less to me, has grown into a man who gushes adorations with such sincerity, I’ll never doubt the depth of his love for me.

  I turn away from the mirror and look up into green eyes I know better than my own. They darken as his hands slide over the back of my dress, caressing my bottom.

  “I’ve missed you,” I admit.

  Jace pulls me closer so I’m flush against him.

  “I know.” Jace lets out a small sigh. “Football season is over. But between all the events and endorsement stuff I’ve got lined up and your race schedule…” He drifts off, and my head drops to his shoulder. There’s no end in sight.

  “We’re both doing what we love. I just wish it didn’t keep us apart so much.” I say the words to his tux jacket. It’s hard to admit to myself that the distance and our chosen career paths are hard. Really hard. I thought we had everything we could ever want, and I feel like a whiner complaining about it. The truth is, I wonder how long we can both chase our dreams before we break. Our love for each other runs deep, but we have huge ambitions in our sports. I don’t know what the answer is, if there even is one. For now, I simply cherish the time we have together before one of our commitments pulls us apart again.

  “I’m doing all I can to get traded to the Stallions, Pep.” Jace just completed his third season playing for the Browns in Cleveland. He was the second-string quarterback but had the opportunity to play at several games. Though Jace made an impression when he got game time, the first-string quarterback for the Browns isn’t planning to retire anytime soon. Jace is in a good position to trade to another team looking for a new quarterback. It’s a long shot he’ll get the team he wants in Colorado though, with so much of the politics involved out of his control.

  Still, we just moved back to Brockton for the off-season. He’ll be around a lot more without games nearly every week. It will be a solid four or five months of mostly living together without too much travel.

  I feel a buzz at my hip, and Jace keeps one hand on me while checking the phone in his pocket with the other. “Frankie’s waiting for us downstairs.”

  Jace holds me a moment longer. I want him to kiss me, but I just applied lipstick. Heat fizzles between us. “We should go,” I finally say.

  “Stay close tonight, okay?” he asks before releasing me.

  “You know I will.”

  “Sometimes you drift off when I get stuck in a conversation or interview. I know they drag on, but stay by my side, okay?”

  “I don’t drift off,” I correct him. “The crowds swarm and I get pushed back. You’ll have to hold me tighter to keep me from getting swept away,” I tease. Maybe I do let myself drift off a little. Jace has to turn into an actor at these publicity events, and he doesn’t feel like mine in those moments. He belongs to the whole world, the fans whose numbers have skyrocketed astronomically since he got field time last season. The NFL is buzzing with talk of Jace Wilder and where he’ll land next season.

  Jace lets me go so I can grab my clutch and the heavy shawl I’m supposed to wear instead of a jacket. He has a team of people and someone named Janet, whom I’ve never met, sends me clothes for these black-tie fundraisers. I don’t have to pay for the clothes and I never know what to do with them afterward since I won’t wear them again. The designers who provide these dresses have a marketing strategy, knowing I’ll get photographed by Jace’s side and that the images and my outfit will show up all over the internet. It’s February but apparently a jacket would ruin the look this designer is going for, so a shawl it is.

  As he takes my hand and leads me out to the elevators, I realize that he’s not the only one who turns into an actor when we step into the public eye. I’m playing a part, too.

  Alone in the elevator with Jace, we’re good. We’re us. We smirk at each other as the energy crackles between us, daring one another not to make a move. I had my hair pro
fessionally styled hours earlier, and Jace’s tux is perfectly pressed, so we manage to be good until the doors open.

  Jace’s arm slips around my waist as we walk out to the hotel lobby. Frankie’s hard to miss at three hundred pounds of solid muscle. His fiancée Lizzie is beside him, and they grin as we approach.

  The guys rib each other about cleaning up nice before complimenting one another’s girl. Frankie is a defensive lineman for the Stallions. Despite playing for a rival team, he’s remained one of Jace’s closest friends. The event tonight is a kick-off fundraiser for a charity he just founded, and it’s a bit of a risky move for Jace to attend. The hotel a few blocks down the street, where we are headed now, will be filled with Stallions players, coaches, and their supporters. While it’s unusual for a player from a rival team to attend, it’s common knowledge that Frankie and Jace were roommates and teammates in college. And after tonight, the whispers that Jace has his heart set on the Stallions for a trade will be common knowledge as well.

  We’d thought that arriving by foot would attract less attention than pulling up in front of the building in a car and stepping right into the flashing cameras. We were wrong. Despite the dozens of other large athletes arriving, it’s hard not to notice two of them strolling down the sidewalk in tuxes. Even in the inky night, it’s like there’s a spotlight shining down on us.

  One camera flash is followed by another, and another, until I’m so blinded I can barely walk forward. Jace’s arm around my waist tightens and I do my best to plaster a smile on my face that doesn’t look like a grimace. Someone seems to be clearing the way because we manage to get inside the doors, and then we’re in another fancy hotel lobby, this one significantly more crowded than the one where we’re staying. We’re ushered over to an actual red carpet with backdrops displaying the logo for Frankie’s foundation, which will provide funds for research on Alzheimer’s treatment.

  We endure more photographs, this time staged. Frankie is the main attraction of the night, with the focus on his foundation, which is named after his paternal grandmother. Still, it’s no surprise Jace’s presence creates a stir. He’s prepared for the questions and replies just as he’s been coached, without providing too much information.

  As promised, I remain close to Jace’s side, and he keeps his arm wrapped around me throughout the interviews. I don’t question why it’s so important I stay close. He’s good at this, playing the celebrity. From Brockton Public to UC, he’s been slowly training for this kind of recognition and spotlight. It’s a new level of fame but not entirely foreign. Still, I know that he likes showing the world that we’re a united front. That his celebrity status doesn’t come in a vacuum. So many of the players, especially the younger ones like Jace, are fawned over for their bachelor status. Jace makes it clear he’s a married man, and proud of it, and I love him for it.

  I wonder too, as I glance around the lobby, noting the several tall supermodels interspersed amongst other players’ wives trying to keep up, if Jace wants me by his side to protect me. Does he worry when I drift off that I can’t take care of myself? Not only has the level of spotlight increased exponentially, but it seems the other aspects that follow Jace’s world have as well. Petty or obsessive women, jealous men who feel threated by Jace, they still exist here, even if in theory people should be older and more mature than our high school and college days. Only now, there’s more on the line. More money, more power. Rings on our fingers haven’t deterred all the women, only brought out the more determined ones, set on snagging the next NFL star.

  I almost feel sorry for them. We’ve been through so much together, I can handle anything. They don’t know who they’re dealing with.

  Chapter Two

  Pepper

  It shouldn’t be a surprise that Troy Bremer is the first person we see when we finally leave the lobby and enter the ballroom. With hundreds of people in attendance, he’s easily the most famous one here tonight. He might even be the most famous person in the entire state. Troy and his wife, Stephanie, haven’t made it very far into the room and are surrounded by people seeking their attention.

  Troy is the Stallions’ current quarterback. Rumor has it that next season will be his last. Jace could work with the team under Troy for a season before, hopefully, moving into the starting QB position.

  His wife spots us first, and greets us with a megawatt smile.

  “Jace and Pepper! So wonderful you joined us this evening.” Her tone is a bit effusive, her voice overly loud as she spreads her arms and draws attention. The group surrounding the Bremers turns to look at us.

  I roll my shoulders, reminding myself to continue playing the part. Jace remains in publicity mode as he greets her. “Ms. Bremer, it’s nice to see you again. This is my wife, Pepper.”

  I was at the US track and field championships last summer when Jace attended a function that the Bremers were at as well. They’ve only met on the one occasion.

  “Oh, please. Call me Stephanie.” She greets us with hugs, as if we’ve known each other for years. Except I don’t get warm vibes. Is this part of the show? Jace seems to be playing along as he gives Troy’s hand a friendly shake.

  Stephanie maintains an overly loud voice when she asks, “Isn’t it so lovely Pepper could make it tonight? I’m sure with your racing schedule you don’t get to attend many events with Jace. Or watch his games,” she adds. It’s an odd statement, and I quickly erase the frown forming between my brows. Was that a dig or is she trying to make conversation? I’m always on high alert, suspicious, when we’re in celebrity mode.

  Troy ignores his wife’s comment and compliments Jace on the four games he played in last season. The conversation turns to football, and a few others join. While I don’t exactly follow the players’ relationship status, it’s common knowledge that the Bremers are high school sweethearts. They got married at eighteen and just celebrated a twenty-year anniversary. The brief news snippet about it caught my attention, if only because it was comforting to hear about other high school sweethearts like me and Jace.

  Watching the way Troy ignored his wife, and how he now seems to be ignoring me, my feelings on the matter shift. Perhaps they aren’t the kind of couple I should be looking up to as an example. As I lean into Jace and listen to comments about his potential by the strangers circling around us, Stephanie brushes against my arm.

  She flashes another broad smile my way and tilts her head to the side. I think it’s a gesture indicating I should step her way so we can chat about something other than football. Keeping my fingers intertwined with Jace’s, I shift my body away from the group so that I’m facing Stephanie, who’s been pushed outside the circle.

  “So, tell me, Pepper.” Her voice has dropped to a low purr, and if she hadn’t already put me on edge, I’m now on full alert. “Are you planning to continue running professionally?”

  Her head bends toward mine, like she’s conspiring with me about something.

  “Yes, of course,” I answer, not suppressing my perplexed tone. “My career has only just begun.”

  “I see.” She nods, putting a finger to her chin in contemplation. “Now, if Jace becomes first-string quarterback, you won’t keep traveling around the world for your own races, will you?”

  My eyes narrow at her audacity. Sure, her tone sounds friendly, but patronizing too. “Um.” I pause, uncertain how to continue. I decide to pretend like she’s interested in my career. “I’m going to be moving away from cross country, which entails more international racing, and moving into road races. Marathons and half marathons. Most of my races will be in the States and because they are longer distances, I won’t be competing quite as often.” My training cycles will demand more from me though, and I may even need to travel for some of the harder blocks, depending on where Jace lands.

  Stephanie takes my arm and pulls me from Jace so we’re alone, hiding behind our husbands. Clearly, she has something she wants to say to me. We’re here to create good vibes between Jace and the Stallion
s, so I’ll have to endure it.

  “Pepper, sweetie, I admire your running talent. I really do.” Yes, all patronizing now. “But let me give you some advice. The NFL isn’t like high school. It’s nothing like college. I dated the quarterback in high school, was with Troy through the college years too. I know what it’s like to have other women trying to take what’s yours. It’s unavoidable.”

  I soften a tiny bit in sympathy. Obviously, we’ve shared some experiences.

  She continues, “You’ve probably had a little taste of what it’s like in the pros. The women are more obsessed, there’s more money on the line, and some of them have zero morals.”

  I nod. “Oh, I know.” She’s not telling me anything new here, but I humor her, listening with wide eyes like she’s being very helpful.

  “It will only get worse once he’s first string. Now, what you might not realize yet is that most of these players, whether they are married or not, take full advantage of the women who want them.” She pauses, watching for a reaction I refuse to give her. “Jace might have denied the temptation up to this point. You’re newlyweds after all, and the women aren’t flocking to him as heavily as they will once he’s first string, but,” she pauses again, this time, I’m guessing, for dramatic effect, “he won’t be able to resist forever. He’s a man, after all.”