Chapter Twenty-Six
Pepper
I’m on a dead run Monday morning, and everything seems to be going my way. Ravi and I hammer out most of the proposal we hope to pitch to MS Enterprises, and I schedule a meeting with their acquisitions team for next week, which gives me time to research their investment history. But first I dive into researching a new project.
I’m poring over drawings, working on designs midafternoon, when a text rolls in from Clay. Just seeing his name on my phone makes my pulse quicken. He only got a mild headache yesterday morning. We relaxed at home after watching the sunrise, and once his headache eased, we had a great time building our boats and racing them in the lake. The temperature dropped in the afternoon, but we didn’t let it ruin our fun. My boat won the race, and I gloated, doing a happy dance that put my previous night’s touchdown dance to shame.
Clay definitely brings out my inner child, and I don’t hate it. We called Seth later in the afternoon. I was worried that our text exchange from Saturday might make things awkward between us, but Seth and I hit it off right away. He’s a little serious, like me, but he’s funny, too. He and Clay heckled each other throughout the conversation, which reminded me of my siblings. Seth was incredibly helpful, and the three of us came up with a killer ad for the receptionist position. I placed it this morning, and I’m excited to see how well it works.
I’m also excited to see Clay tomorrow. After spending the weekend together, I wasn’t sure how much I’d miss him today. But that time together only made the ache of missing him stronger.
I open the text, and a picture pops up of Clay standing beneath harsh studio lights, wearing nothing but a wicked grin and skintight black Under Armour briefs. My stomach somersaults, but it’s the memory of our passionate night, and his voice whispering through my mind— I’m going to fuck you so thoroughly, you won’t be able to think about me without getting wet —that has me squeezing my thighs together. Once again, he’s proven himself right.
Another picture pops up. A perfect shot of his ass taken over his shoulder in the mirror.
Me: You’re making it hard for me to concentrate.
Clay: You make me hard, so it’s only fair.
Another thrill darts through me.
Me: You know what you do to me.
A squirt emoji pops up.
Me: Don’t you have to go smile for the camera or something?
Clay: Just didn’t want to slip your mind.
Me: Impossible .
I add a heart emoji and go back to my drawings.
“Hey,” Ravi says as he walks into my office. “I’m heading out to meet the guys. Are you okay? I haven’t seen you all afternoon.”
I look up from the drawings. “I’m great. Is it time to go already?”
“For normal people. I take it Clay isn’t coming back?”
“He’ll be back tomorrow. Can I get your opinion on this before you go?” I come around the desk and hand him the drawings.
“What is this? Some kind of sensory glove?”
“Yes. Keep this between us, please, but Clay mentioned his throwing has been off.”
“From the shoulder injury?”
“How do you know about that?”
He looks amused by the question. “Because I follow the game. It’s not like it’s a secret. He had trouble with his shoulder all season, but there’s never been any mention of his throwing being off.”
“That’s because it’s not that bad yet, but he feels a difference. He said it’s harder to get a perfect throw than it used to be and that before his injury something would click in his head and he’d know when to release the ball.”
“Rote memory.”
“Exactly, but the injury has messed that up for him.”
“Makes sense. I’m sure he’s moving differently to compensate for the pain.”
“Exactly. He said he can tell when he lets go of the ball if he’s missed it by a fraction and that short of having a buzzer go off when he’s in the perfect position to release it, he’s not sure how to fix it. So I had an idea. I spent all morning researching the muscles used when throwing, the isometric activations for stabilization, and what happens if certain muscles aren’t strong enough. I know he’s got the best sports doctors and therapists, but I think by tracking the movement of his muscles from his fingers all the way down his arm and over his back and chest muscles, I can get him the signal he needs. That’s why the apparatus extends down the right side of his chest and shoulder.”
“But every throw is different.”
“Yes, but I’m not trying to define every throw, and this wouldn’t be used during games. I’m only trying to help him figure out where that new release point is when he’s practicing. I’m hoping if we can target it, he can create new rote memory based on his current injury.”
“It’s an interesting idea.” Ravi’s brows knit, and I can practically see the gears in his mind churning. “By tracking the sensors and working with him, you’ll figure out exactly where and when he hits the sweet spot.”
“Yes! And then we’ll make a signal for it. A vibration or something. I haven’t figured that out yet. I don’t know what would be helpful without throwing him off. But we’ve already got knowledge of the technology with our Smart Glove project.”
“You’re not thinking of skimming off that contract, are you?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You know me better than that. I just meant that we have the underlying knowledge to create this. The data and analysis will be different, as will the physical apparatus, but it won’t take much to have a prototype made. You know Kenji will cut me a deal.” Kenji is one of our subcontractors for the Smart Glove project. We create the technology, and he manufactures the physical gloves. “He loves working with us, and he’s fast. Once I have the specs and sensors figured out, it won’t take him long to make the glove and chest piece.”
“If he can fit it into his schedule.”
“Yes, of course. I haven’t mentioned this to Clay yet, but I’m going to tomorrow night. If he thinks it’s a good idea, I don’t think he’ll have an issue helping me pay for it, and if need be, offering an incentive to Kenji.”
Ravi studies the drawings again. “This could work.”
Excitement bubbles up inside me. “I think so, too.”
“Not quite so rattled by him anymore, are you?”
“Shut up. He’s done nothing but help me. I’m excited to be able to do something for him.”
“What if it fails?”
“Then we figure out why and fix it.”
He grins. “Like a tick with a vein. Welcome back.”
I roll my eyes as he hands me the drawings, and my phone chimes several times in quick succession.
“Either one of your sisters just found out she’s pregnant, or Clay really misses you.”
“It’s not Clay. He has a big sponsorship dinner tonight.”
“Then I’ll leave you to the family drama. Don’t stay too late.”
“Just long enough to catch up on some of the work I put off today. Have fun with the guys.”
As he heads out, I put the drawings on my desk, and my phone chimes again. Hoping my sisters aren’t going to keep this up all night, I grab my phone from the credenza and open the group text thread from my family.
Brindle: WTH Pepper? You’re with Clay and the whole world finds out before us?
“What?” My stomach knots up as I scroll through screenshots she sent of celebrity news social media posts with headlines like All You Need to Know About Clay Braden’s Hot Winter Fling and Is Dr. Pepper Mr. Perfect’s Flavor of the Month? The word fling cuts like a knife. My hands shake as I swipe through pictures of me and Clay bowling and making out in the bowling alley parking lot. “Nononono. This can’t be happening,” I say pleadingly to my empty office, and I read the other messages.
Morgyn: I knew the universe would come through for you!
Amber: Why are you and Clay keeping this a secret? Dash didn’t know about you either.
Mom: Pepper, are you okay honey?
Axsel: She’s fine, Mom. She’s hooking up with the hottest bachelor on the planet.
Dad: Princess, I’m here if you want to talk.
My chest constricts at the childhood nickname. I’ll be the talk of Oak Falls, and my parents will have to deal with it. I hate the thought of embarrassing them like this.
Brindle: Were you hooking up in Paris?
Dad: Brindle, I don’t think we need to discuss those types of details in a group text.
Grace: Pepper, you look so happy. Are you?
Sable: Want me to hunt down the people who took the pictures and break their fingers?
My hands shake as I frantically type a response.
Me: Yes, we were together in Paris. I can’t deal with this right now. Please stop texting about it and let me figure things out.
A flood of texts rolls in with I love you s and I’m here if you need me s. I pace the office, feeling like I can’t breathe. Why hasn’t Clay said anything? As I navigate to our texts, my phone rings, and Sable’s name flashes on the screen. Her tour ended over the weekend, and I know she got back to Oak Falls last night. If I don’t answer, she’ll show up here.
I reluctantly put the phone to my ear. “I can’t talk right now.”
“I know it seems like your world is collapsing around you, but trust me, it’s not .”
“Are you freaking kidding me, Sable? I went from being a well-respected scientist to a flavor of the frigging month .”
“Who gives a fuck what those idiots think?”
“I do!” I snap, wearing a path in the carpet. “My clients are going to see this!”
“Your clients know you’re a professional.”
“They won’t now !” My head is spinning.
“What does Clay say about it? He can make a statement to the media and shut it down.”
“I haven’t talked to him. He’s in New York on business.”
“He hasn’t called you? What the fuck? You know he has a PR rep or an assistant keeping an eye on this shit.”
Pain slices through me at her anger, because that’s exactly what is going through my head. “I don’t know what he has, but it’s a good thing he hasn’t called. I don’t want to talk to anyone,” I seethe. “This is all my fault. I saw people looking at him the first night he was here. I should’ve known better than to hang out with a celebrity.”
“Or at least not suck face in the parking lot.”
I groan. “I can’t talk about this right now. I just…I can’t.”
“ Fine . I can be there in an hour.”
“ No . Please just let me be.” Tears sting my eyes, but she knows I process better alone. “Please.”
“Damn it, Pepper.”
“Please, Sable.”
“Fine. Crawl under your rock, but if I don’t get a text with proof of life tomorrow morning, I’m going to be on your doorstep before eight a.m. Now tell me where Clay is staying so I can go kick his fucking ass.”
“ Sable , I can’t do this with you right now. I’ve got to go.” I end the call, struggling against tears.
“I guess we’re official.”
I spin around at Clay’s voice, and my stomach roils. “How can we be official when I don’t even know what we are?” Too upset to stand still, I pace again.
“Yes, you do,” he says calmly. “If you didn’t, you would never have allowed me to stay.”
“ Fine! I do , but I can’t think straight right now! I worked my butt off to gain a place in my industry and get a little recognition in my field, and you come to town for one weekend, and suddenly the whole world knows me as your frigging flavor of the month . This is why we should have left whatever this is in Paris. But no . You had to come here and woo me.”
“You like my wooing,” he says calmly.
“ Clay! Are you trying to piss me off?” I know I’m being irrational, but I can’t stop. “Listen to me. I’m yelling! I don’t yell! This is not me!”
“Yes, it is. You’re a passionate woman.”
I glower at him. “Now is not the time to flirt with me!”
“I’m not flirting. You’re passionate about work, you’re passionate about family, and you’re passionate about us.” He opens his arms. “Come here.”
“I don’t want to come there.”
“Yes, you do. Come here.” His arms remain open, and he beckons me with his fingers.
I shake my head, trying to gain control of my runaway emotions.
He stalks toward me, his arms open.
“ Clay ,” I warn, but he just wraps his arms around me. My arms hang like a petulant child, but I immediately feel safer.
“It’s going to be okay,” he promises, and kisses the top of my head.
The tears I’ve been holding back spring free. “Nothing is okay,” I say softly. “Why are you even here? You’re supposed to be at a business dinner.”
“I got on a plane the minute I heard about the social media storm.”
“You can’t just shirk your responsibilities because of me .” I try to push out of his arms, but he tightens his hold on me.
“Nothing is more important than you. When we were in Paris, you were adamant about not becoming part of a scandal. I didn’t think it would happen, and I didn’t take it seriously. Especially once we were here. People seemed respectful of my privacy. But I should have known better. I’m sorry, Pepper. I never meant to hurt you.”
I tip my face up. His eyes are brimming with concern, and that takes the starch out of me. “It’s not your fault. I just worked so hard to be taken seriously, and now I’m embarrassed.”
“Because you got caught kissing your boyfriend, or because of the nasty headlines?”
“The headlines mostly. But did you see the pictures? I’m practically climbing you in the parking lot.”
He smiles, speaking gently. “I told you you’re passionate.”
“I don’t need the world to see it.” I touch my forehead to his chest. “I lose my head when I’m with you.”
“That’s a good thing, sweetheart.” He slides a finger under my chin and tilts my face up, bringing my eyes to his again. “I’m sorry this happened. I hate that you got hurt because of my reputation. If I could go back in time to change it, I would.”
“I know you would,” I admit.
“I’d never choose for us to be outed this way, but I’m glad people know about us now. We’re in this together. I don’t want to hide from your family or anyone else. I’m proud to be with you, and I thought you were proud to be with me. But I understand why you’re upset, and I know this kind of public scrutiny isn’t for everyone. If this changes things for you, I should probably tell Doogie to take down my social media post.”
“What post?”
He pulls out his phone, scrolls to one of his social pages, and shows me the picture he took of us watching the sunrise yesterday morning. My head is resting on his shoulder, and his head is touching mine. The rising sun casts a romantic glow on our faces, and our smiles shimmer in our eyes. If happiness could be captured in one picture, it would be that one.
The caption simply reads, Mine .
Emotions clog my throat.
“As long as we’re together, there will always be some form of public scrutiny,” he says gently. “It’ll follow me until I’m old and gray. Unfortunately, that’s the nature of the beast. I can’t stop people from posting about us, but I will always have your back.”
He kisses my forehead, and my throat thickens even more, because I know he will. It doesn’t make sense that the man who makes me feel reckless also makes me feel safe and whole, but he does.
“I talked to my PR rep, Nolan Kenard, about the best way to handle this for your business.”
“You did?” Oh, my heart .
“Of course. You can talk to him if you’d like to discuss it with a professional. He thinks we should let it go and wait for it to blow over. But there are other options. I can make a statement and ask for privacy, or you can make a statement so your clients see it, or if you want us to make a joint statement to cover all our bases, then I’ll arrange it. Just tell me what you need, Pep, and I’ll make it happen, but please don’t throw us away because some kid got excited and posted pictures of us, and they happened to go viral. That’s just social media nonsense. It’ll fade away, but my feelings for you are real, and they’re only going to get stronger.”
“Stop sucking me into your fairy tale,” I plead half-heartedly. “That’s how I got into this mess in the first place. I get lost in your charm and attention and forget I’m a realist.”
“You’re a realist who deserves a fairy tale, baby. I know it doesn’t feel like it right now, but it’s okay to be reckless with the guy you care about.”
He kisses me sweetly. In the safety of his arms, with the real world locked outside my office walls, I breathe a little easier.
“I don’t want to think about any of this,” I say softly. “I just want to go home, have a glass of wine, and be with you.”
“I have a better idea.”
A little while later, we’re lounging naked in a hot tub on the deck of the elaborate home Clay rented, sipping wine. It feels more like a private luxury retreat than a home, with spacious rooms, high ceilings, wide-planked hardwood floors, two stone fireplaces, a two-car garage, and four private acres of winding gardens and mature trees.
Steam rises from the water as I gaze out at the yard, which seems endless. “This was a great idea.” I set my wineglass on the deck and snuggle against his side. “Why have you been staying at my place, when you have all this waiting for you?”
“Because you’re there.” He kisses my shoulder. “I would have brought you here the first night, but I got the feeling you needed the security of being on your own turf.”
“You were right, but maybe we should test this place out for a few nights.”
“Sounds good to me.”
“I’m glad you’re here with me, but are you going to lose that sponsorship opportunity because you missed the dinner?”
“I don’t think so, but if I do, fuck it. I wasn’t about to make you deal with this on your own. If they can’t understand that, then I don’t want to represent their brand anyway.”
“I appreciate that, but I don’t want you to miss out on important opportunities because of me.”
“Don’t worry about that. If I never got another sponsorship deal, I’d be just fine. But are you still worried about your clients?” he asks carefully.
“A little, but only because I feel like a teenager who got caught in the back seat of her parents’ car.”
That brings out his dimples. “Why do you feel like that?”
“I don’t know ,” I say, turning to face him. “Maybe because it’s so not me to kiss like that in public, or because that’s how my whole family found out about us. Hearing my dad call me princess when he’s seen headlines about me being your flavor of the month is a little embarrassing.”
“I’ll apologize to them.”
“That’s really nice of you to offer, but no. You don’t have to do that. Something tells me I need to get used to that type of attention, because apparently it is who I am when I’m with you, and I need to accept that or drive myself crazy trying to hold back when we’re together.”
“Fuck holding back. How can anyone expect you to hold back when you’re with me ? I mean, come on. Look at me.” He says it as arrogantly as he does teasingly.
I’m thankful for the levity and the kiss that follows.
“Seriously, babe. This will blow over.”
“I know. The embarrassment is already starting to fade. But now you have to go home with me for the Valentine’s Day Festival to prove I’m not your flavor of the month.”
“Is that your way of asking me to be your Valentine? Because I’m used to a little more romance. Some chocolate-covered strawberries, maybe some flowers.”
God, I love him.
“You should just be honored that I asked. I haven’t had a Valentine since Ravi and I went out.”
“Ah, competition.”
“Hardly,” I say with a laugh.
“We’re going to have such a great time at that festival, when we go next year , you won’t remember any Valentine who came before me.” He leans and kisses me.
“I’m holding you to that.” I take a sip of wine and put the glass back on the deck. “With all the craziness, I forgot to tell you that I think I came up with something that might help you with your throwing.”
He arches a brow. “Great sex helps.”
“ Noted , but this might help even more. You know how you said you can feel when you release the ball and it’s a little off?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, I was thinking. Your injury has been going on for a while, and you’re trying to throw the same way you did for years before the injury. Since the pain is ongoing, your body naturally adjusts to throw differently in order to avoid the pain. That’s why you notice a difference. You might be able to adjust enough now to fool everyone else, but you aren’t fooling yourself. That mental pressure makes it even harder to perform at the level you need to, right?”
“I guess. Yeah.”
“I think the key is working with your injury instead of against it.”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Every time you tweak your shoulder and feel pain, it affects the way you throw, and that affects your mental state, which also affects your ability to focus on throwing. If we can find a new release point, or get to the old one from a slightly different angle, as you said, even a fraction of a difference, it might take that pressure off, which could result in better releases, less stress, and the confidence and focus you need to succeed.”
“That would be amazing, but how? Are you talking about therapy ?”
“No, but with all the pressure you’re under that could help, too. I did some research and worked on an idea for a sensory glove that could be the answer.” I explain the design and how it would work. “The hope is that we can take the data and your feedback and figure out your new release point. Then we come up with a signal. You mentioned a buzzer, but that might be too much, so a vibration, or something that’ll cue you to release at that point every time you throw. If it works, then it would just be a matter of practicing enough that you can hit it consistently without further injuring your shoulder.”
His brow furrows. “You just came up with this out of the blue?”
“Not out of the blue. You said you were having trouble, and I thought it might help. I’m not even sure whether you’ll need it to go farther down your arm than your wrist. It might just be a positional thing that doesn’t require us to analyze your shoulder and arm positioning. I researched throwing, but that’s the kind of decision I can’t make without your input.”
He studies me with an almost incredulous expression.
“If you aren’t interested, or if you think it won’t work, then I don’t want to waste your time.” He doesn’t say anything for so long, I fear I’ve missed something and the idea is foolish. “Am I way off base?”
“ No . You’re brilliant. I’m just blown away that you’d take time away from your busy schedule to think about helping me and come up with something like that so fast.”
“It’s your career, and it’s obviously causing you angst. Of course I’ll help you. Does that mean you think it might work?”
“Not only do I think it might work.” He moves in front of me, guiding my legs around his waist. “But you just did the impossible.”
I put my arms around his neck. “I haven’t done anything yet.”
“Yes, you did. I didn’t think it was possible for you to get any sexier.” He brushes his lips over mine. “But I was wrong.” He nips at my lower lip, sending shivers of heat down my core. “That incredible brain of yours just turned up the heat.”
“Let me think of other smarty-pants things to say.”
His lips come down over mine in a soul-searing kiss, and like every time we’re together, greediness sparks hot and sharp inside me. I wrap my arms tighter around him, my legs squeezing his waist. He growls into our kisses, intensifying his efforts, and his cock presses against my entrance. Need swells inside me as our kisses turn urgent. Our hands roam as we kiss, bite, and suck our way into a frenzy. “ I need you ,” I plead. He starts to release me, and I don’t let him. I know he’s thinking about protection. “I’m on birth control.”
The sound he makes is something between a moan and a growl as he reclaims my mouth and I sink onto his cock. Pleasure shoots through me like bullets, making every nerve ending flare to life. We both tear our mouths away, a moan sailing from mine and a curse from his. But in the next breath, we’re devouring each other again, thrusting and grinding with everything we have. I cling to his shoulder as he grabs my waist with both hands, his thick fingers pressing into my skin, and drives me harder and faster along his shaft.
“ Don’t stop ,” I beg, chasing the scintillating sensations spreading through me like wildfire as the cold air hits my chest and the warm water sloshes around my body.
“ Never ,” he grits out. “I’ll never fucking stop.” He pounds into me harder, and my vision blurs. “You feel too good. So tight, so fucking perfect .” The raw passion in his voice has me standing on the edge of a cliff. “Come on my cock, baby.” His dirty demand shatters my control, and I cry out as my body spasms around him. He drives into me time and time again, keeping me at the peak. I’m lost in the feel of his thickness possessing me, his growls and curses heightening every sensation. Just when I start to descend from the clouds, he crushes his mouth to mine in a ruthless kiss. I return it just as brutally, craving more, wanting him to possess every inch of me. As if he’s read my mind, his hand slides down my body, and he pushes a finger into my ass as he thrusts mercilessly into me, sending us both spiraling into oblivion.
We thrust and moan, giving and taking with reckless abandon. And then we cling to each other, breathing hard as the real world comes back into focus. His grip eases the slightest bit, and I tighten mine. “Can we just stay like this forever?”
“There’s nothing I’d like more.” He tightens his hold on me, and in that moment I know there’s no amount of embarrassment that could keep me from the only man who makes me reckless, safe, and whole.