Pepped Up & Wilder (Pepper Jones Book 6)

by Ali Dean

  My time of 32:14 is my fastest 10K time ever, a feat given how often I’ve raced this distance on the track, which is generally faster than a road race. And the best part is that I feel great. Like the season, this journey of road racing and building toward the marathon and the Olympics has only just begun.

  Lexi and Sienna finish a minute or two after me. While Monica and a couple other Newbound teammates are here, it’s my old college teammates I find myself drawn to, whom I end up cooling down with after watching the men’s race end.

  Ryan hits the podium in a third-place finish as well, the first American man. I know this is big for me. Beating Monica Herrick, hell, beating all the other Americans and most of the foreign runners in the field today, is a huge statement of where I’m at. A lot of the top cross runners and mountain runners ended up in those races because they couldn’t quite hang with the top field on the roads, where the bigger money and sponsorships are. But I’ve shown that’s not me. I’m not only in the pack, I came out on top of it today.

  I savor the feelings of racing well, grateful for my health and solid training. I know these races don’t come together every time, and I’ve got to soak it in when they do. After warming down, I smile on the podium for pictures, and then take a few with Ryan for the media, who want the two American podium finishers together. It reminds me a little of our high school days. I want to laugh with him about how he was there for my very first plane flight to Nationals, but bringing up the time when we were dating seems inappropriate. It’s amazing that I fly nearly every month now for a race.

  I don’t know how it’s possible to be on top of the world and still have that ache in my chest, but I do.

  When I get on the plane the next morning to fly home, I should be feeling excitement that the ache will get some relief. Jace will be meeting me at the airport. But as soon as I open my email while waiting for the plane to board, a new sensation hits. One that’s not so familiar. Anger.

  Chapter Eight

  Jace

  I could feel a few eyes on me as I stood behind the black rope things with others waiting for people coming off the escalators from flights. The baseball cap over my head didn’t do much for disguise. While I could fly under the radar in New York a little better, I was somehow more recognizable in Colorado. Maybe it was because more people knew of me around here, or maybe there were so many celebrities in New York no one paid much attention, but I was getting restless. Someone was about to say something, which would open me up as fair game and I’d be swarmed in a few minutes. I didn’t want that. I was contemplating going back to wait at my Jeep, which was parked in the closest lot. There were definitely little perks to having an NFL paycheck, like not thinking about paying an outrageous amount for convenient airport parking.

  But then I saw her. It was always like this when I saw Pepper in a crowd. Not even a crowd. Just, anywhere. Especially when it had been over a week since I’d last touched her. She was so damn bright. Like a glow of light around her, some sort of angel. I knew that kind of shit was supposed to wear off. Seeing her through this lens, the one where she was just it for me, my peace my calm my everything, it had only grown more into focus over the years. Sure, there were pretty women everywhere, but Pepper was the only one who shone like this for me.

  So despite the annoyance and a little anger I had brewing from the photos my agent sent me earlier, my heart fucking soared as she walked off the escalator, looking around. I’d texted where I’d be, and she tugged on her backpack straps as her eyes roamed over the people waiting.

  She spotted me quickly and when our eyes locked, I was surprised I didn’t get the easy smile she usually gave me. This one was tight, hard, hurt. Fuck. My heart rate picked up and I wanted to shove the people in front of me to the side and jump over the rope.

  Instead, I maneuvered around them to meet her and she fell into my arms. Her body felt right there, against my chest. She still wanted my comfort, no matter what was going on in her head. I held her tight for a minute, but couldn’t get enough of her with that backpack on. Slipping it off over her shoulders, I put it on my own.

  “You been waiting long?” she asked.

  “Nope. Got in twenty minutes before you. Dropped my bag in the car and when I got back, you’d landed.” I tried to search her eyes, but we both noticed the people around us watching, starting to talk about who we were, so I took her hand instead.

  When we got to the Jeep a minute later, I was ready to explode. From wanting to touch her, and wanting to know why she was withdrawn.

  “What’s going on, baby?” She’d just had an amazing race, so I knew it wasn’t that.

  She shook her head tightly and swallowed. “You…” she started and stopped, swallowing again. I was watching the column of her throat as she swallowed and didn’t realize the tear leaking from her eye until she started talking. “You were with Madeline Brescoll.”

  My eyebrows drew together. “What are you talking about?”

  She turned to look at me. “I know that we’ve had photos fuck with us before, that they don’t always tell the truth. But this one was in the New York Times, so I’m thinking it’s not fake.”

  How did I not know what she was talking about? Drake was usually on the ball about alerting me to anything unusual in the media, anything that could be problematic.

  “My agent sent it to me,” she said. “The two of you together at some charity event on Saturday night.” She lowered her eyes, looking at her hands. “Look, I know you have to go to those things. I know you might not have wanted to take a photo with her. But you two looked real cozy, arms around each other. She was way too close. God, I’ve never wanted to claw someone’s eyes out like I wanted to when I saw how smug she looked. How could you let her get that close?”

  I pushed my seat all the way back, unbuckled her seat belt, and hauled her over to me. She let me, and slid her legs easily on either side of my hips. We needed to be connected. “Better already, right?” I asked, trying to ease the hurt I could feel weighing her down.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you saw her? What happened?”

  “I didn’t say anything because you were racing the next morning. I only spoke to you briefly before your race and then after. I probably would have brought it up this week but wasn’t sure. I didn’t think it mattered. Didn’t want to bring up someone who doesn’t deserve to get in the middle of us, when we only get so much time together.”

  She shifted on my lap as I felt some of the tension drift out of her body. My hand roamed the bare skin under her tee shirt, dipped below the waistband of her jeans. I needed to feel her skin.

  I told Pepper all there was to tell. “I didn’t know she’d be at this charity. Didn’t even know she was in New York. Actually, I don’t know much of anything about her or why she was there. We barely spoke.”

  “How’d you end up in the picture?”

  “I guess she knows Drake, who was there too. She knew I didn’t want to talk to her, but then Drake got all excited we were from the same town and knew each other in high school. I wasn’t about to cause a scene and be an asshole so when he called over some photographers, I just went with it. I don’t know why or how that shit ended up in the New York Times. If I’d known that I would’ve been a dick and walked away. I just didn’t want it to cause anyone to sniff around looking for a story, so I went along with it.”

  Because we both knew there was a story. Several actually.

  “It was in the New York Times because she’s gorgeous,” Pepper stated like it was obvious. “And she’s the daughter of the biggest brewery owner in the nation, a socialite. She was there representing Brescoll Brewery, the main supporter of this charity, the host for the event. You didn’t know all that?”

  “Not until I got there. I knew what the charity was but it was a last-minute thing Drake lined up. I didn’t get into the details or who was the driving force or anything. How’d you know all that?”

  “It was in the article.”

  We
sat there for a moment, faces inches apart, bodies pressed close. We knew nothing could come between us. But we just kept getting hit, and even as we learned to put it all out there, talk it out, it didn’t mean we didn’t feel the blows. If I could go back and never touch Madeline Brescoll I’d do it in a heartbeat. But that wasn’t an option. My nostrils flared as I tried to push down the anger at my past, at the things I couldn’t control.

  “Drake should’ve said something,” I said, a realization dawning.

  “Maybe he felt guilty he had them take the photo in the first place and was hoping we wouldn’t see it.”

  I shook my head. No. That wasn’t it. Whether we liked it or not, Pepper and I had risen to become a popular couple in the media. We were young, both athletes gaining momentum in our careers. People liked that shit. But Drake didn’t see it that way. He saw my married status as a barrier to the bachelor image, which he thought would get me more attention, bigger sponsors.

  “No. Drake set this up. He knew that a photo of me with her would stir shit up, get people talking. That’s all he wants to do. Keep me in the limelight, good or bad.”

  “It doesn’t stir shit between us though, okay?” Pepper lowered her chin to look at me closely, her voice gentle as she swayed a finger between us. “I’m not mad at you. I trust you. It hurt to see that photo. She’s not someone I ever want to think about, especially not with you. But I understand how it happened. I’ll always ask before jumping to conclusions. All that shit she threw at us when we were a new couple, we got through that. We can get through whatever comes next.”

  I loved this woman. With her reassurances, the hardness straining in my jeans pulsed and Pepper let out a little moan as she pressed into it. I wasn’t trying to start anything, but my body couldn’t help it with my wife so close, even if we were talking about some shitty stuff.

  I still had to ask her about the photo with Ryan, but it was taking all my willpower not to kiss her. If I did, I wouldn’t be able to stop. And I couldn’t take her in the Jeep. Not here. Talk about a story for the media if security came knocking on the Jeep for rocking back and forth in the parking lot.

  I steadied her hips, holding her firmly. “You know there’s a picture of you and Ryan floating around the internet from yesterday’s race, right? Drake didn’t have any problem sending that one to me.”

  “Yeah, but only because we both hit the podium and were the first Americans.”

  I shook my head. “I know.” It still sucked. It still made me furious to see his arm thrown around my wife, their happy matching grins and postrace glows. He was there at the race when I couldn’t be. When I was stuck at some event where I knew no one. Except for my scheming agent and Madeline Brescoll. I was more mad at myself than with her.

  “You know Drake might not really have tried to stir shit. It was probably unintentional. It’s not like he knows about your history with her,” Pepper said with a frown.

  “You know better than anyone I’ve gotta be careful who I trust. And I don’t trust this guy. He doesn’t respect us. Our marriage. He’s made enough comments it’s clear we’re not on the same page. But I need him right now, and playing along with being in the public eye will benefit me in negotiating a trade. As soon as the trade is done I’m gonna start talking to Frankie’s agent.”

  “You don’t think we’re being overly suspicious because of our past?”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Pep, I know it’s in your nature to think the best of people. To want to give them the benefit of the doubt. And you trying to stick up for Drake is real cute when I know you don’t like the guy. And not just because he’s the one causing me to travel all the time, but because your instincts tell you he’s not good people.”

  She dropped her shoulders and sank into me further, resting her head on my shoulder. “Can we get out of here and just be together? I need you so bad, without any of this bullshit.”

  Hearing curses from Pepper’s mouth meant business. “I know we have three potential houses in Brockton right now, baby,” I told her as I situated her back in the passenger seat and buckled her in, “but none of them are really ours. As much as I love everyone, I need you alone and naked and I’m not waiting until everyone gets a chance to see us first.”

  “What do you have in mind?” she asked, her voice a little breathy.

  I glanced over to find her squirming in her seat. “No hotel. Someone might recognize us and I’m too impatient to check in.”

  “You know I’ve never required a bed,” Pepper said.

  “That’s my girl.”

  I headed to the closest campsite I could think of on my way to Brockton. It was April, which meant it hadn’t yet opened for the season. But wasn’t inaccessible. It was perfect. With all the shit going on around us, all it took was the two of us together, skin on skin, no one to interrupt, and the restlessness in me faded away. As long as I could have this, always, I was good.

  Chapter Nine

  Pepper

  It’s a good thing we stopped at the campsite on the way up or we wouldn’t have had any alone time. When we pull up to Gran’s house, Frankie and Lizzie have beaten us. Jace and I are both feeling lighter with the physical connection reestablished. We still have stuff to deal with, but it’s nothing we can’t handle. I didn’t get a chance to mention to Jace that my agent sent me the New York Times article because he’d gotten questions about our relationship. My agent implied the media might run with the two photos of each of us with different people, and our exes at that.

  It didn’t bother me though. Not now that I’d had Jace inside me, had his hand in mine now, and we were back in Brockton together. Nothing could get to me right now.

  Frankie is one of many of my friends Gran has taken under her wing. Growing up, Gran treated all my friends like family. It didn’t change in college, especially with so many of my teammates far from their own families. She cooked, baked, knitted, cheered, and hung out with my friends like they were her own grandkids. As one of Jace’s best friends, Frankie got the Gran treatment too. He’s obviously soaking it in when we get in the house.

  Frankie sits at the kitchen table with a plate of food piled so high it looks like it might topple over. Lizzie is next to him with a slightly more reasonable amount of food on her plate, but I can see Gran trying to scoop out more from the dish on the table.

  I don’t bother asking why they’re eating dinner mid-afternoon. I can smell the lingering scent of pot in the air, and know Gran loves to cook and feed people when she’s high. Also, when she’s not high.

  With Jace gone so much, we decided to make the spare room at Gran’s place home base. I don’t want to be without him at Wes and Zoe’s place or at his dad’s. I’m more comfortable at Gran’s house, even surrounded by four people in their seventies who have the tendency to act like they’re twenty when the mood suits.

  After hugging our friends, we settle into the other seats, knowing Gran’s going to feed us whether we want it or not. It’s an eclectic meal: chicken pot pie, banana bread, potato chips, and roasted vegetables. I’m guessing Lulu got involved.

  “How long have you guys been waiting on us?” I ask, letting Gran pile my plate because I know it makes her happy.

  Lizzie rolls her eyes. “Frankie wanted to leave first thing in the morning but I reminded him you guys wouldn’t even land until late morning.”

  “I did a workout, then headed up. Got here a couple hours ago,” Frankie says. “I get restless in the off-season.” He shrugs before shoving another forkful of food in his mouth.

  “He wants me to quit my job so I can entertain him all day,” Lizzie explains with mock annoyance. She has a customer service job that she hates, so I could see her actually taking that offer once they get married.

  “Man, I know you’re not trying to make a trade this off-season, but you’ve got tons of sponsorships. Don’t you have to travel for campaigns and shit for them? You really get bored in the off-season?” Jace asks.

  “Hell yeah. I miss
competing and training with the team. I go to charity functions every once in a while, but rarely travel for them. I’ve only had to travel once for one of my sponsors.”

  “How the fuck – sorry, Buns – how’d you pull that off?”

  Frankie shrugs his big shoulders again. “Made it clear to my agent I wanted to keep travel to a minimum. I got my family in Kansas to visit in the off-season, my girl with a nine to five job I want to see. Besides, I don’t want to burn out from travel and shit by the time the season starts. Told my agent to work it out. She probably turns down a few opportunities for me, but I’d rather not know the details. Keeps it simple. I trust her.”

  Jace and I look at each other. “You need this agent,” I state the obvious.

  Jace shakes his head. “I tell my agent to minimize travel on practically a daily basis and that fucker keeps telling me this is the life I chose and to suck it up and stop whining. I knew he was a dick, but I’m seeing he’s more of one that I even thought.”

  Gran smacks Jace in the back of his head, scolding him for bad language at the dinner table. She doesn’t usually mind but we’re supposed to be better behaved at this table for some reason.

  We chat more about agents, the requirements of sponsors for other players, realistic expectations for travel and obligations. Gran bustles around us and the kitchen, reveling in this opportunity to take care of us. Lulu, Harold, and Wallace left earlier for something going on at the assisted living facility that the guys were staying at before they met Lulu and Bunny. While I know Gran wants her independent living situation as long as possible, I love knowing she’ll be perfectly happy at an assisted living place if it ever comes to that someday. She’s already a social butterfly over there just because she likes the community.