CONTENTS
Copyright © 2017 Meagan Brandy
Dedication
Synopsis
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Cgapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Two Months Later
Playlist
Acknowledgements
About The Author
Copyright © 2017 Meagan Brandy
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, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
No copyright infringement intended. No claims have been made over songs and/or lyrics written. All credit goes to original owner.
Photo Credit: Sara Eirew at Sara Eirew Photography
Editing: Jenn Wood at All About The Edits
Proofreader: Cat Parisi at Cat’s Eye Proofing and Promo
Dedication
To the girl who was told she couldn’t,
but proved the world wrong when she did.
Synopsis
After months of refusing, I finally agreed to make the move to Alrick Falls. My family thought it was best - that a new scene would be good for me - and I was sick of having the same conversation.
So here I am, and the plan is simple. Smile through each day and avoid her at all costs.
It’s perfect.
Until the cocky quarterback comes into play.
The last thing I want is his crooked grin and dark brown eyes focused on me.
Yet here he is, constantly in my space, pushing me, daring me to care. Telling me what I think and feel, as if he knows.
He doesn’t know anything. And I plan to keep it that way.
He’s the persistent playboy who refuses to walk away. I’m the impassive new girl with nothing left to give.
Things are about to get complicated.
Come out with me tonight, she said. It’ll be fun, she promised.
Yeah…not so much.
I drag myself out of the corner I took cover in, eyeing the American Pie-like movie scene playing out in front of me. Only, in this version, it’s ridiculously handsome males and far too sexy females parading around in a hormone-driven buzz, letting loose at the hands of alcohol. I mean, I get it. People can never be who or what they want. They can never be honest and upfront.
Alcohol does one of two things for you in high school: gives you the courage to tell the truth or the freedom to forget it. So they party, get drunk, hook-up, do and say stupid shit, and in the end, they take a page from Jamie Foxx and “blame it on the alcohol.”
Take, for instance, the Pretty Woman, Julia Roberts lookalike - pre-makeover, that is - who was just hoisted up onto the countertop by some tall, dark-haired beast of a guy whose face I can’t see. She’s biting down on her bottom lip and rubbing her knees together, clearly trying to excite this guy who, no doubt, only sees a faceless vag.
She spreads her legs and pulls him between them. Instantly, he dips his lips to her neck and she wraps her legs around his back. They’re three sheets to the wind and he’s got something she wants.
Yeah, all this is happening mid-party, and no one seems to give two shits.
Awesome.
In order to get to the other side of the room, I have to weave through the bodies crammed onto the makeshift dance floor. Brushing body parts against drunk, horny high school seniors I don’t know doesn’t sound like a good time, but it appears to be my only way out. So, I dodge a grope here and an elbow there, and make my way out of the slosh zone, earning only a few dirty looks along the way.
Petty asses.
When I round the corner into what I’m assuming is the living room, I let my eyes roam. All the furniture’s been pushed against the tan-colored walls. A few people are passed out, while others are making out on the sheet-covered couches, and there’s a beer pong game going on smack dab in the center.
At least there’s hardwood floors.
I watch as a big burly guy tosses the little white ball, effectively landing it inside the red cup on the opposite end of the table. Cheers erupt around the room.
The opposing team grumbles as one of the guys picks up the cup, downing its contents in seconds. I stand there, watching them play for a good twenty minutes, only turning to leave when the girls hanging around start stripping down to help “motivate” the players. Their words, not mine.
I’m about two feet from the door when my gaze is pulled to the stairs.
A beautiful girl with white-blonde hair descends, looking like a model on her runway. A large, dark-haired figure over her shoulder catches my attention and my eyes lift. I can’t quite make out his face from here, but I can tell he’s smirking and his shirt is hanging from his left hand.
My attention turns back to the girl and, imagine that…suddenly, she looks a lot less beauteous, and a lot more bimbo. Her modelesque strut now looks like a runway show for a pro-ho.
And I’m pretty sure that’s bleach-blonde, not beach-blonde.
With a shake of my head, I look away.
I’ve been here for an hour and I’m already labeling these people I know nothing about.
But honestly, am I labeling or just being observant?
I sigh. No matter how I try and spin it, it’s shitty all around.
Face it, Kalani, you’re being a judgmental bitch.
Once I make it out the front door and into the fresh air, I inhale deeply, trying to clear my senses. Nothing like leaving a party feeling as if you just stepped out of an Abercrombie and Fitch store. Cologne and spray tan overload.
I stand there for a few minutes, looking around, watching as people mill in and out of the house, then pull out my phone and send a quick text to Mia, letting her know I’m out.
As usual, she replies almost instantly.
Meems: boo-hoo, bitch. You lasted 5 seconds.
Me: close. Just add 57 minutes to that and you’re right on the dot. Congratulations!
Meems: thank you. Thank you. I’ll prepare my speech soon, but in the meantime…be careful on your way home. LUVS!!
I smile at my screen before stuffing it back into my boot, and begin the short walk to my house.
It’s early November, so there’s a nice chill to the air.
I’ve been in Alrick Falls for three weeks to the day. Tonight was the first time I agree
d to go out with Mia and her friends. While it wasn’t a horrible night, per se, it wasn’t much fun either.
I mean, I like to party and have a good time. Or at least, I used to. But that party felt more like a brothel house. The guys, all too attractive for their own good, with their sexy smirks glued in place, were passing out drinks left and right. No doubt trying to loosen up all the girls - pretty sure most of ‘em were already ‘loose’ - while the girls paraded around in “barely there” clothing, batting their eyelashes as they knocked back every drink thrown their way. Maybe that’s how they get what they want, with a little liquid courage.
There was a time I liked kickin’ back with a group of friends, laughing, dancing, and singing. But this is a new place, with new people, and I don’t feel much like participating in their charades. I’d rather eat junk food and watch movies.
As I’m thinking it, I realize how shitty it sounds.
Maybe that’s my problem. I’m being bitchy and judgmental because this isn’t my home. Spending my senior year in Alrick was never part of the plan.
I guess I can try not to be such a buzzkill; have some fun while I’m here. That way, Mia doesn’t have to explain to her friends why her cousin is such a “snooty biatch.” Then, after I graduate, I’m out.
Yep. Headed straight for-
My train of thought stops abruptly as I take in the sight before me.
“What the hell…” I mutter as I peer at the fancy jeep-looking thing stopped in the middle of the dark street.
I wait a beat to see if it starts going again, but it doesn’t. It appears to be parked in the middle of the road, still running, lights on and everything.
Instead of doing the logical thing a girl should do when she’s alone in the dark with a creeper car close by - like running - I make a stupid horror film decision and walk toward the vehicle because that’s smart.
The closer I get, the better I can see. Not a jeep, but a fancy Hummer. A sexy, sleek, black one, with all-black rims.
Very presidential.
As I approach, I hear Sublime’s “Wrong Way” blaring. Looking around, I realize the sound of the music is flowing from the open sunroof.
At five-foot-two, I’m too short to see through the window, so I tap lightly. “Hey, you alright in there?”
No response.
With a frown, I make my way to the back of the beauty before I freeze.
What the hell am I doing?
This is the exact shit your parents warn you about when they give you the “don’t talk to strangers” lecture. Only, I’m pretty sure what I’m about to do borders more on “the dumbest idea ever.”
“Fuck it.” I reach up, grabbing ahold of the spare tire on the back of the vehicle. Gripping it tight, I push up from the bumper, laughing as I hoist myself onto the roof.
If the owner catches me doing this…
I crawl on my hands and knees until I’m at the open sunroof. Leaning over cautiously, I peek inside.
“Oh, shit,” I whisper, taking in the sight before me.
And, oh, what a sight. What. A. Sight.
The driver is slouched in the seat, his head dangling away from me, so I can’t see his face. His right arm is through a black t-shirt while his left is bare, the material bunched around his neck, like he never managed to get the other arm through. I can see half his washboard stomach, and damn... the boy works out. I let my eyes travel over him, because, why not? I’ve already reached a whole new level of cray.
His hair is thick, short on the sides and longer on the top; the color of dark chocolate. If the letterman jacket on the passenger seat is any indication, he’s an athlete. Looks like one, too. All broad shoulders and strong arms.
Huh. Seems he was in a real hurry. Didn’t even have time to button up those designer jeans.
Ending my appraisal, I inch my hand in the truck, lightly poke the top of his head. “Hey, you alive?”
A gargling sound comes from the dark-haired stranger, and his head falls back. He lets out a breath, causing me to jolt back.
“Ugh…” My nose wrinkles. “Someone was drinking the good stuff.”
Now that I can see his whole face, I realize it’s the playboy from the stairs. Maybe even the same guy who was playing with the redhead earlier.
He looks like a grown ass man, but since he was at the party, I’m guessing he’s around my age. He’s handsome though, that’s a given.
Bet he knows it, too.
His eyebrows are dark and thick, with eyelashes to match, and his face is clean-shaven, with small, perfectly trimmed sideburns. Following the invisible trail from there, I take note of his strong jawline, sculpted to perfection, then lift my eyes slightly to find a bottom lip that puffs out a bit further than the top, a perfect contrast, really.
A half-hearted sigh escapes me. “Bummer.” Perfection brings ego, which translates into one thing: asshole.
“Hey, dumbass. You alright?” I ask, frowning.
“Pfft, I’m fine,” he slurs, his chin dropping to his chest.
I roll my eyes. “Sure you are. I’m coming in.”
He lets out a drunken chuckle. “Usually it’s me who’s coming when I’m in.” He laughs harder, one knee lifting slightly, clearly amused by his own joke.
“Hilarious,” I deadpan. Yep. Guy’s a tool. “Look, you’re drunk. Switch seats and I’ll drive you home.”
He doesn’t move, so I reach in again and give the guy a little shake.
Nothing.
“Lovely.” Pursing my lips, I consider my options. He’s massive, so moving him won’t work. I could call the cops, but that feels like a bitch move, even though it’s his own damn fault for being irresponsible.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this.” I curse myself under my breath, and glance at the houses surrounding me. Not wanting to put my boots on the luxury seats, I use my arms for support and lower myself into the cab until my knees hit the center console. After adjusting the volume on the stereo, I peek at the guy before leaning across the driver’s seat. Searching around, I try to find a lever, but my hand barely reaches the side of the seat.
“Shit.” I perch on my knees and lean all the way over him.
God, if someone drives by right now… it looks like I’m giving some serious road head.
I stretch, reaching damn near to the floorboard, finally finding a small lever. Unsure of how it works, I quickly push, slide, and pull. One of them works, because the driver seat starts to fall back. I quickly let go so I don’t end up giving the guy whiplash. Or get puked on. That would suck.
The guy laughs and grabs me, pulling me back with him, and a ridiculously girly squeal escapes me.
My torso is now lying sideways across his chest, ass still semi in the air.
“If you wanna play…” he slurs, rubbing his nose in my hair. “Mmm…you smell soooo sweet,” he continues to mumble before he’s snoring again.
His voice is low and rough, and ridiculously sexy.
Don’t go there, Kalani. Don’t do it.
Man, I bet this guy gets the pick of the puss.
He’s got game in his sleep.
I gotta get us out of here.
I wait a minute, making sure he’s out cold, then climb the rest of the way across, sliding my legs between his. Squeezing my eyes shut, I move at a snail’s pace, lowering myself down so I’m sitting on his lap. I stay completely still for a few seconds, just in case…well, I don’t really know. But it seems like the best idea at the moment.
I’m sitting on his thighs, squished against the steering wheel, so I reach down trying to find another lever to move the seat backward, but instead I find a fancy button.
The seat reverses, which causes the back to lift. I gasp when my back meets his steeled chest. The second I shift my body to get into a more comfortable position, two large hands fly to my hips, gripping them like a running back does a football: tight, hard, and close to his body.
My body temperature spikes as I put the vehicle in drive an
d head down the road. Only then do I realize I have no idea where I’m going.
The heater -or his heat currently poking my ass- is too much, so I roll down the window and head to the only place I know.
I pull into my driveway, which was only a minute drive from where I hopped into the vehicle originally, and turn off the truck. As soon as the vibration of the engine stops, I become hyperaware of the stranger beneath me.
The strong rhythm of his heart beats against my back as his exposed skin warms me through my clothes. Deep, hot breaths fan across my neck, making me slightly light-headed, despite my lack of drinking tonight.
It seems I’m not the only one who feels the shift in the air as the guy is now running his nose along my shoulder. I really shouldn’t let him do that. He could be a crazy person. Or worse, a Broncos fan, but it feels so good.
My eyes widen when his dick twitches against my ass, and I scramble into the passenger seat. Apparently his ‘heat’ wasn’t all the way nuked if you know what I mean, because that was definitely…more.
I decide I’m going to leave him there, in his seat, to sober up. Then, come morning, when he feels like Woody Woodpecker is paying him a visit, he can be on his merry way.
I take the keys out of the ignition and toss them on the passenger side floor; close enough for a sober person to find, but not a drunken fool. I allow another look at the guy - he really is adorable - then hop out, careful not to slam the door.
After taking a quick shower, I throw on a thong, my Halestorm concert t-shirt, which has definitely seen better days, and hop in bed. I fall asleep within minutes; my devil cat, Nauni, beside me.
I roll myself onto my stomach, squeezing the pillow over my head to drown out the pounding at my door. When it continues for a good minute, I groan, and throw myself out of bed, ready to ring Mia’s neck. I gave her a key to avoid this exact situation. I love my sleep. I need my sleep. This is something she knows.
Scowl in place, I fling the door open. “Where the hell is your ke-” I stop short.
It’s not Mia. Nope. It’s Mr. Perfection in all his still half-naked glory.
Fumbled Hearts (A Tender Hearts Novel) Page 1
