Lying Hearts (Hearts Series Book 1) Read online

  Lying Hearts

  Hearts Series Book 1

  Faleena Hopkins

  Contents

  Part 1 - Lying Hearts

  1. Annie

  2. Brendan

  3. The Old Brendan

  4. The New Brendan

  5. Brendan

  6. Annie

  7. Brendan

  8. Annie

  9. Brendan

  10. Annie

  11. Brendan

  12. Annie

  13. Brendan

  14. Annie

  15. Brendan

  TONIGHT— FIVE FUCKING YEARS LATER

  16. Annie

  17. Annie

  18. Brendan

  19. Annie

  20. Brendan

  21. Annie

  22. Brendan

  23. Annie

  24. Brendan

  25. Annie

  26. Brendan

  27. Annie

  28. Brendan

  29. Annie

  30. Brendan

  31. Annie

  32. Annie

  33. Annie

  34. Annie

  35. Annie

  36. Brendan

  37. Annie

  38. Brendan

  39. Annie

  Book Two in Brendan & Annie’s story…Reaching Hearts

  About the Author

  Part 1 - Lying Hearts

  "Annie and Brendan are complex, layered individuals…I can’t even tell you how much I loved this one."

  —SmutAndBonBonsBookBlog

  I'm wonderstruck

  Blushing all the way home

  I'll spend forever

  Wondering if you knew

  I was enchanted to meet you.

  Taylor Swift, Enchanted

  Chapter One

  Annie

  Twenty-three. From Downers Grove, Illinois, but I will never live there again. One more year to go at SF State. Summertime. Cannot wait for graduation.

  I’m at a party. Everyone knows me. Everyone likes me. Which is weird. Like, really fucking odd. They wave and smile as I pass. That never happens to me. A group of handsome men call over with sensuous stares, “Annie, come talk to us.” But I demur with a shy smile — as if I’m capable of such a thing — and turn away, searching for him, the only one I want.

  All the usual suspects from college are here, emphasis on suspect, but they’re dressed up in clothes from an era long gone by. The girls–normally in too-tight pants and bra straps sneaking out from tank tops–look gorgeous in floor-length gowns and matching long gloves. The guys–normally wearing skinny jeans and graphic T’s with sneakers–are all in tailored tuxedos, black shiny shoes, and neckcloths; those ties from the Regency period that looked like scarves.

  Everyone looks incredible.

  And the party itself is beautiful, too. It isn’t some lame kegger at someone’s apartment like usual, but instead a feast in a ballroom with gold-lined walls. Chandeliers so sparkly they might be made of diamonds. Delicious, mouth-watering sweets on every table. Champagne flowing from a dancing cherub fountain. An orchestra playing as people dance, everyone knowing the steps, everyone graceful. It’s magnificent… and a little creepy.

  Then I see him…Brendan Clark, turned away from me, deep in conversation. With his back to me, he laughs at something one of the other men says. He rakes a hand through his dark, wavy hair and the tuxedo jacket tightens across his oh-so-broad shoulders.

  He is my everything.

  Turn around and see me.

  As if he heard me, Brendan turns to search the room for whom or what, he does not know. I study the perfection that is his profile — the concentrated furrowing of his brows, his open lips, so full and kissable.

  Our eyes meet and my breath hitches. Because he doesn’t look disgusted.

  He leaves his friends to come to me, awestruck gaze drifting slowly down my body, a heat lighting up his blue eyes. It’s those which kill me most. They’re the exact color of the sky just before the sun leaves it forever. Or at least eight hours.

  He extends his hand to me, palm up.

  My eyelashes flutter down to look, to admire its masculine lines, to imagine it doing things to my body. My own hand floats up to his and it is not until I’ve done this that I see I’m wearing forest-green, silk gloves. Surprised, I glance down and discover I’m wearing a gown of the same shade of green, breasts cinched high and lovely atop a draping bodice of more silk.

  I would never wear such a thing.

  Why isn’t it black?

  Why aren’t my breasts hidden?

  Brendan asks, his timber deep and thick with lust, “They’re so beautiful, Annie. Why do you hide them?” He turns to the champagne fountain cascading from a cherub’s trumpet, letting crystal liquid run over his fingers until they’re good and wet. I gasp as he locks eyes with me and runs them along the soft mounds that are barely covered. He leans down and slowly licks it off, forcing hot, sensitive little points in the silken fabric.

  “Oh Brendan…” I whisper.

  Our lips are not quite touching. “Annie,” he smirks, heat from his breath on my lips. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

  “You’ve been waiting… for me? Sorry, but I’m having a hard time believing that.”

  The tip of his tongue is visible, resting on his teeth.

  Wait.

  Is he going to kiss me?

  Oh, please, Brendan.

  Do it!

  Can’t you see I want you to?

  His lips barely brush mine. “You knew it before I did, didn’t you?”

  Aching, I ask, “What did I know?”

  “There are marks on us. Matching lines that fate painted on our souls so we’d find each other. Don’t you feel it?”

  I should play hard to get.

  I should deny it, tell him I have no idea what he’s talking about.

  But that would be a lie.

  And I don’t want to lie to him.

  Not to Brendan Clark.

  Not ever.

  “I do feel it. I knew the moment I first saw you.”

  His eyes darken. It’s coming now. He’s going to do it. The kiss is on its way. “Annie, it’s time to go.”

  I frown, tilting my head. “What? I don’t want to go anywhere. I’m happy here. I want to be with you.”

  As though he can’t hear me, he says again like a robot, “C’mon Annie. It’s time to go.”

  “I’m sorry. I don’t understand.”

  His face transforms into my friend Corinne. I’m holding lovingly onto her neck, close to her face.

  I jump back, staring at her in Brendan’s tuxedo, the others all sneering at me like I’m a freak.

  Just like they normally do.

  “Annie, wake up!”

  Oh shit.

  No!

  My room comes into focus and standing in my doorway is Corinne — my roommate and best (and only) friend. “Annie, Jeezus. Three-hour nap? It’s time to go. C’mon.”

  “I was having the best dream ever.” I shove my face into the pillow. “You ruined it.”

  “What did I ruin?”

  Peeking over at her leaning in the doorway with one eyebrow up, I mumble, “My happiness.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Like I’d ever ruin that. Now, c’mon! It’s time to go to the party. Get up and get ready.” She pushes off the doorway. “We’re getting you laid tonight!”

  Chapter Two

  Brendan

  Earlier That Day

  San Francisco. Age: twenty-five. Five years before Mark meets his future wife and everything changes. Coffee: cold. Coffee shop: rife with gorgeous chicks to plunder.

  “You hooked up with an older
woman, huh? Nicely done. How was it?” Mark leans back and eyes a hot brunette whose breasts shimmy in time with her strut. “Mmm.” Both of us scan her.

  “Incredible.” A growing line for lattes blocks our vision. We turn back to each other. Reluctantly.

  Mark takes a healthy slug from his coffee. “So… how was it?”

  My mouth turns up at the memory of the best blowjob I’ve ever had. “I just said it was incredible.”

  Mark laughs. “I thought you were talking about jiggles. Well, I’m glad you finally climbed the joy ride and joined the team. How you stayed with only one girl all through college is beyond me.” He looks back to see if the view has improved, but there’re still too many people and he looks back to me. Reluctantly. “What was her name?”

  “Rebecca. Rebecca…I don’t know her last name.” This hits me hard. “Wow.”

  Mark touches his tongue to his teeth and smirks. “So you go from Boyfriend Of The Year to hooking up with a cougar whose last name you never even got?” He whistles. “I like the new you, B-man. I like it a lot.”

  This makes me sit up straighter. Not really, because we’re both slouching as we should. But in my head? I’m standing tall. I’ve looked up to Mark in more ways than literally just his height. He is taller than my six-foot-one inch frame by a few inches, but it’s not just that. He’s also great at numbers, computer programming, speaking to strangers, gathering the respect of pretty much everyone. And women, they drop their skirts before he even says hello. The guy is a god.

  There were a ton of stunners at San Francisco State and not one of ‘em could hold his attention for more than a month. He’s my new role model. Following his lead will rip away the last remaining sentimentality I have for the fairer sex once and for all. Good plan, good plan. I’m glad he met me today and hadn’t given up on me. It’s no wonder he’s stoked. He’s been trying to break me down for years. I am never – and I mean never – going to let another woman under my skin. She can nibble and suck on it all she wants, but she’s not getting under it no matter how beautiful she is.

  I’m ready for unattached, unbridled fun. And who knows fun better than Mark? No one. If Mark ever settles down, I will keel over from shock.

  I rake my fingers through my wavy hair and look out the window. “Yeah, well, I had to get rid of Sara first. That bitch had to go.” Even though she broke my heart, it hurts a little to call her that out loud. Or maybe this ache in my stomach is just a hangover from having drunk too much booze last night. Alone. Mark doesn’t say anything. I wait for a response and none comes so I turn my head and meet his skeptical eyes. “What?”

  He waits a second. Decides if he wants to remind me how much I fell all over Sara during my entire college education, even the first year when she was still in high school and I had to deal with her fucking curfew. He probably wants to tease me about how I never let anyone say a bad word about her even when she was rude and snobby, which she more than sometimes was. How I’m calling her bitch now because I’m heartbroken. I really don’t feel like talking about her or the ring I still have to refund. Leave it alone, Mark. Just drop it. But he’s no mind reader.

  He purses his lips and opens his stupid mouth anyway. “You okay?”

  My eyebrows twist up the middle of my forehead and my eyes go ice-cold blue. “Are we going to have a moment? Should I break out a violin? She cheated on me. You saw it coming. I didn’t. I’m over it.”

  “It ended two weeks ago.”

  “It ended a year ago when she moved away. I just didn’t know it ended. So I had plenty of time to get over her, because she wasn’t really here anyway. You want me to cry on your shoulder?”

  He concentrates on me and says nothing for an uncomfortable amount of time. I glare at him, challenging him to push the sword in deeper. Slowly, he brings his hand up and pats his own shoulder. “Come to papa. Let it all out.”

  Smiling, I look away. “Shut it.” Sipping the end of my cold, weak, coffee while he picks up the paper to read the business section, I stare out the window some more. Passing locals soon blur me into a trance and a sneaky flash of not Sara, but Rebecca sleeping next to me last weekend in Mendocino, creeps in without my noticing. The way her hair fanned out in dark sheets on the pillow. How her mouth was open and the light sounds that came out of it. How one beautiful rosy nipple was exposed, laid bare thanks to a pushed-down corner of the quilt. A smile starts spreading on my lips.

  Stop it, Brendan. I shove it back down in the depths of hell it came from. I know that she’s just like them all – she showed me that. I’d stared at her a little too long before I’d left, though. The moonlight from the windows made me stay.

  Fuck! The old me is still clinging on like he wants me to get my heart crushed a few thousand more times before I learn. Well, screw that faster than a whore on prom night. I can’t take the kind of emptiness that comes from getting attached and having it not work out. Not again.

  “You know what I think?”

  Sucked into an interesting article, Mark doesn’t look up. “Mmm?”

  “I think we’re going to make a good wing-man team. We cover both bases. I’m Black Irish, dark hair, and blue eyes. I’m normal height. You’re tall as a mountain and you’ve got that golden skin, hair and eyes thing going for you. Between the two of us, we offer whatever suits their taste. We can take it all, if we work together.”

  Mark looks up halfway through my speech, very amused. After I finish, he says, “You’ve given this some thought.”

  “Just now, yeah.” I lean back in the chair, legs spread out and my hand resting just below my crotch. “A blinding flash of inspiration comes when things are meant to be.”

  Mark looks back at the paper. “I’m in.”

  I stare, taking in his answer. Holy shit. It’s on! I’ve got the King Of Pussy to lead the way! A new life full of tits, ass, and zero commitment! I grab his newspaper with a big laugh. “We are going to kill it!” I crinkle it up in an extremely tight little wad and throw it at the ceiling.

  Mark grins and slouches against the backrest. “I feel sorry for them already. You should move in with me, too.”

  I didn’t see that coming. I lean back in my chair, cock my head to the side. “What about Greg?” Greg’s been Mark’s roommate all through college, the yin to Mark’s yang. Greg is quiet, introverted, serious. Not at all a ladies man, but Mark brought pretty women home and Greg was so happy about it, he never griped about the late hours or the sexual noises coming through the walls at all hours. “It seemed like the perfect scenario. Why give that up?”

  “Greg’s moving in with Diana. Bought her a ring and everything.” Mark shakes his head. Marriage, the noose none of us want to fall into.

  “Diana Cross? How’d they hook up?” Mark points a thumb at his chest. “Ah. Wow. Diana and Greg. I can’t really see it; Diana’s hot. Hey, wait… didn’t you hook up with her?”

  “Oh yeah! Lots of times. But she wanted something I couldn’t give her.”

  I smirk and scratch an itch on my chest. “Monogamy.”

  “You got it. So, you want his room?”

  It takes me a second to answer because moving in with Mark means leaving the place Sara and I got together. She hasn’t been in there for a year, except when she came back to visit, but it’s always been ours in my mind. I’m taken aback by the fear of leaving all of it behind, but the fear is definitely there. “Let me think about it.”

  I can see Mark understands why I’m hesitating. He picks up his coffee cup and goes to chuck it in the trash. “I can always offer it to Tommy.”

  The instant I picture Tommy taking my place, I know I’m on the edge of being shut out. Tommy already has been closer to Mark than me. Plus he’s an asshole. I don’t want him blocking my new life. I pick up my coffee cup that’s been emptied out already, and pretend to drink the last sip just so that I come off appearing nonchalant. “Fuck that. I’ll take it.”

  Mark sees more than I think. He nods. “Good.” He picks up
the rest of the paper – the part I didn’t send to the ceiling – and hands it off. “You want this?”

  A woman in her early thirties with a corporate vibe and a permanent frown line, smiles at him. She gratefully takes it. “Sure. Thank you.”

  “No problem,” he smiles. He holds her look just long enough to give her hope. “Have a good day. I like your blouse. Matches those pretty eyes of yours.”

  Really pleased, she smiles and touches it. “Thank you.”

  He walks back to me like he didn’t just make her day. He does this stuff and always acts like it’s nothing.

  I stand and we head for the door. “Why do you do that when I know you’re not going hook up with her?”

  “Who says I wouldn’t?” I raise an eyebrow and he laughs. “Nothing wrong with brightening up someone’s day.

  I make a mental note of this. “When’s Greg moving out? Or is he already gone?”

  “Oh, he’s gone alright.” He means metaphorically, and walks out the door with me following him out onto the sidewalk. “He’s moving out today. What is it – Saturday? You could move in tomorrow if you want. Or whenever. He doesn’t have a whole hell of a lot to remove.”

  “Wait a minute. He’s moving out today?”

  “Yeah?” Mark side eyeballs me like what’s the big deal?

  A couple of hippy granola-eaters pass by, taking up massive amounts of sidewalk. I move out of their way, holding my breath to avoid the Patchouli oil. As soon as I can breathe again, I ask, “How were you going to cover his half of the rent until you found someone?”