Roan (Hollywood Binge Novel Book 2)

by Julia Bright

  Heaven, karma, good fortune, whatever had tossed him this girl, and he’d taken it as a sign that he needed to make her his, that was until the world crashed in. Her teammates rushed toward them. A couple of trainers were there, kneeling by their side. That was where the stunning, beautiful memory turned darker.

  Fucking Blaine had been the one to pull her off him. He remembered that fake look of concern he gave Presley, and just like so many other times, Blaine’s sunny good looks and innate ability to talk to women sucked her right in even while she turned a hesitant, unsure gaze Roan’s way. At the time, he knew she had to have experienced everything he had. No way he’d had such an earth-shattering moment all alone, but when Roan found his first chance to talk to her again, Blaine had already secured their first date. She’d been his girlfriend ever since.

  Roan should have moved on. Decided he’d misread the signs, but he just couldn’t. They’d shared no more than a few minutes in time, and yet he’d fully lost himself to this woman, and it sucked on every level to watch her from afar while she adored a cheating jackass.

  Since the Rusty Cow was a team hangout, just like every time Blaine walked in, the groupies at the pool tables had finally followed the guy to the bar, circling around him. It didn’t matter to any of them that he had a steady girlfriend. Roan took a big bite of his burger then lifted his beer and plate of food before scooting off his barstool. He moved to the seat on the other side of Connor to get out of the masses.

  He let the girls have his space when they attempted to include him in their meaningless conversations. Cleat chasers weren’t his thing. They were clingers, and apparently Roan acted more like Presley’s long-time boyfriend—he’d been weirdly loyal to her since their brief encounter and gotten hell over his lack of hookups from his buddies. Everyone he knew seemed to be doing it like rabbits all the damn time. A scowl furrowed his brow. He missed random sex…

  Whatever.

  By proximity, Connor got sucked into the females while Roan got a few more bites down then pushed the hamburger away. He’d lost his appetite. When Blaine got off the barstool, wrapping an arm around one of the women, Roan watched in disgust as Blaine guided her toward the back room.

  “Want another?” Lucky asked, pointing to his beer.

  “Nah, I’m done.” He’d planned to hang out a few hours then maybe hit up a couple of end-of-term parties, but not anymore. His stomached turned as he watched Blaine’s hand disappear under the girl’s short skirt and hatred filled his heart. Presley didn’t deserve that.

  He needed air. Hell, he needed to get out of this town and away from the unhealthy fixation he had on that woman. Maybe he should leave tonight, put some much-needed distance between here and there, and gain some better perspective.

  “You okay?” Connor asked.

  “Yeah. It’s none of my business,” he muttered absently and looked up at Lucky. “I need to cash out.”

  “What’d I miss?” Connor asked. Only because Roan was done with this school and done with Blaine fucking Daniels did Roan answer.

  “Blaine’s got a girlfriend. She’s a sweet thing. Doesn’t deserve that,” he said, motioning his head toward the bathroom area Blaine had disappeared to.

  “Nah, not anymore. They broke up last week. It’s over,” Connor explained.

  Roan’s hands were on his wallet, thumbing through the bills. The words he’d barely been listening too bounced around his head until the world stopped and his startled gaze lifted to Connor.

  “I didn’t hear about that,” he said, giving Connor a critical glare, making sure this wasn’t a mean-spirited trick.

  “It happened,” Con confirmed.

  “Really?” He could feel his hard, angry facial features easing.

  “Yeah.”

  Silence between them lasted several long seconds as everything disappeared but a single-minded focus that drove Roan up off his seat. He pushed away from the barstool, throwing a twenty-dollar bill on top of the bar.

  “Where’s he going?” one of the girls asked as he started to walk away without saying another word.

  “Roan’s not interested in one of us,” another said, scorn lacing her words.

  He let that dig go. He had developed a reputation of being overly picky. Roan was halfway across the bar, heading for the front doors when Connor barked out a laugh and called out, “She’s at Slickers. She was just getting there when I left earlier.”

  Roan lifted a hand over his shoulder in appreciation. Connor had just saved him a few stops before finding her. He pushed through the heavy door and went for his sports car. Not two minutes later, he peeled out of the parking lot with the sole focus of finding Presley.

  Finals done, fake IDs accepted, and the celebrations underway, Presley, with her three roommates, had only one goal: party together until the sun came up.

  The school year had been hella long. Presley had taken a full load of classes, worked a full-time job, and agreed to every single paid cheer gig offered. For the last three months, she hadn’t been sure if she were coming or going, but that was all over now. She lifted her martini glass to the center of the table, toasting this newest round of drinks with the same anthem they’d used all evening. “We made it! Summer break then on to our junior year.”

  Kady Sutherland, her very best friend in the world, lifted her glass. “Hip hip hooray! We made it. It was doubtful at times.”

  “Very doubtful,” said Tena Masters, another roommate, adding her raised glass to the center.

  “Bring on the summer!” Gini Sue added. They all lifted their glasses a little higher, careful not to spill one single drop, before gently clinking the rims together. Each one took a long drink of their sweet martinis.

  “So, next semester, I think we need better rules,” Kady declared, her voice only a little slurred, making Presley grin. Since she could feel her own thoughts growing fuzzy, the slur seemed even more pronounced, making her grin bubble into a full-fledged giggle.

  “Augh, why are you already starting on this now?” Tena asked.

  “Hang on. This is important. I think we should be required to wash the dishes once a week. Agreed?” Kady asked, always the organizer between the four of them.

  “As long as we really means you, then I’m in,” Gini announced, happily lifting her glass for another round of toasts that Kady didn’t find the least bit funny.

  “I was thinking more Presley doing the dishes once a week. Why me?” Kady whined, throwing out a disgruntled hand, angry because they hadn’t had her back in the joke.

  “Why not you?” Presley countered, putting her drink on the table, attempting to slow herself down. She could feel the alcohol’s effects and decided right then to switch to water for a while. Otherwise, partying all night long might mean until about nine o’clock tonight when she’d decide to head home to get some much-needed sleep.

  “Did I tell you that I heard that the reason you and Blaine broke up was because you were cheating?” Gini Sue said, and Kady gave an exaggerated grunt.

  “Why can’t two people have a simple breakup and still be friends?” Kady said with a dramatic eye roll. “If anyone had eyes in their head, they could have totally seen what was up with you and Blaine.”

  “Holy mother of God. Roan Westfield just walked in the front door,” Tena declared. Presley watched her friend’s entire demeanor change. All four of them had a thing for Roan. Hell, the entire student body had a thing for the guy. He was tall, dark, and handsome. His muscles were huge, his stomach cut, and his wallet loaded. As far as West Texas standards went, Roan was the be all, end all—hands down.

  If you didn’t want to date him, you wanted to be him.

  “What’s he doing here? Is he alone?” Presley sat with her back to the door. She couldn’t see a thing without turning, which would make it obvious that she wanted to see him, so she leaned into the center of the table, whispering the words that sounded dreamy even to her.

  “Of course, he’s alone! He’s always alone. He n
eeds me on his arm,” Tena declared, waggling her eyebrows and causing them all to laugh. Giving in to the urge, Presley turned to see Roan standing at the entrance. With three martinis down, Presley knew she had drunk too much when a blush instantly heated her cheeks. She couldn’t help it. Even before she’d taken him out on the field during a tumbling pass, she’d had a major thing for the guy. The deep, heavy exhale was as involuntary as the way she licked her lips and just stared.

  Roan was the hottest of the hot, but that wasn’t what drew her in. No, she wasn’t quite that shallow. She saw the man inside him. The way he carried himself. His confident yet kind approach when he handled people. Roan was super successful yet humble.

  His family had money. She could easily see that in the car he drove and the clothes he wore, but it also carried through in the way he walked, moved, and spoke. Even with all those fine attributes going for him, Roan always stayed such a gentleman—he fit any situation. His manners were off the hook. They were so engrained in everything he did and said. Her head tilted and a small smile formed at all the warm, dreamy feelings associated with seeing him. In the quiet time, right before sleep, she’d surely be thinking about him standing right there.

  Just like every other time she saw Roan, an innate sense of embarrassment struck. This time though, the alcohol seemed to enhance the humiliation, making her turn away from him, ducking her head. Almost two years had passed since she’d tumbled straight into his chair and knocked him flat to the ground. He was far too nice a guy not to try to cushion her fall, but dear lord, she’d been completely mortified. They had spoken a total of twelve words, and she had each of those etched on her heart. Other than that, they’d shared an occasional head nod from him and a bright, overly high-pitched hello from her. Nothing more. Well, except every time she looked his way, she caught him staring at her. No one else in the world ever appeared to notice. Maybe it was her imagination, but those dark, devilish eyes seemed to penetrate straight into her soul. She would always hold the stare long enough to blush, and he’d then scowl, and they’d both quickly look away.

  What did that even mean?

  Tena whispered loudly to the table, “He’s leaving for the NFL. Gawd, the campus just got less pretty.” Then she fanned herself dramatically with her hand while lifting her martini to take a long drink.

  “I know, right?” Kady affirmed. Presley watched Kady’s face do about the same as Tena’s had: just melt at all that glorious male standing before her.

  “Doesn’t matter. None of the girls here are good enough for him.” Gini said her piece with all the sass those words were intended to have.

  “Duh. Look at him. He belongs with a beauty queen or supermodel or something else really pretty,” Kady declared and lifted her glass to take a long drink while staring her fill.

  Presley ventured another look over her shoulder until his gaze skimmed past their table then came immediately back to them. He looked at every one of them until those dark, unreadable eyes focused on her. There was an audible gasp from her friends—maybe even one from Presley as the air around her shifted. She flipped her startled gaze back toward Kady who looked just as shocked as Presley felt. She panicked a little on the inside while her heart began a slow, steady build to pound wildly in her chest. She looked back at Roan who moved toward her, his trained gaze never faltered. Why was he focused on her?

  The effects of the alcohol made her even more light-headed as she gripped the edge of the table to hold herself in place. No wait. That didn’t help. Dark spots sprinkled her vision surrounding a moving Roan. What was happening?

  She hadn’t taken a breath. Before the edges of her vision became cloudier, Presley inhaled deeply while watching his thick muscular thighs navigate the packed room as he came toward their table.

  “Presley, he’s coming for you,” Tena said, astonished, nudging her arm. Presley’s body swayed. Hell, at five feet tall and one hundred pounds, a good wind could make her sway, but this was different.

  “Hey,” Roan said when he got within a foot of her; his gaze didn’t stray from hers. She couldn’t make herself respond. She got lost in the deep, masculine, sometimes soothing—but not right now—sound of his voice. The neurons in her brain misfired. This couldn’t be truly happening. She must have misread something, so she glanced over her shoulder to see if he was talking to someone behind her. When she looked back up at him, he still held that intense expression on his face, his gaze only on her, but now there was a small smile ghosting across his lips. “Can you come with me? I’ve got something to say to you.”

  Instead of asking the first question that came to mind—are you seriously talking to me?—or even the second question—what in the world would you possibly have to say to me?—she blurted out, “I’ve been drinking.”

  Wait. Why had she said that? Oh God, she felt sick. Her face was on fire, and her breaths had turned into pants. She wasn’t getting enough oxygen to her brain. What if she fainted?

  “Have you had a lot?” he asked. For the first time since he’d set eyes on her, he looked toward the table that held their glasses.

  “A few.” Presley placed a hand on her belly, willing herself to calm down before she did something completely stupid, like throw up at his feet.

  “It’s okay. I’m driving, so I’ll make sure you get home safe.” Roan then turned to her friends and reaffirmed his commitment. “I’ll get her home. I promise.”

  She watched her friends’ reactions. Roan was just larger than life to most of the campus. They nodded woodenly as he pulled out his wallet, looking over the table. “How much did you drink?”

  “She had three,” Tena, always the boldest of her friends, announced.

  Roan tossed forty dollars down on the table. “Will that cover it?”

  “More than,” Tena nodded and slapped Presley playfully on the arm. “You go, girl! He just bought our drinks too.”

  God, that was a smooth move for such a smooth guy. Kady was next to gain her senses. She reached for Presley’s purse at the base of her chair and shoved it in her lap with an exaggerated use of force, drawing Presley’s gaze her way.

  “We’ll be waiting to hear all about this,” she said.

  Their excitement was clear as Tena reached over, shoving her forward from behind. Having no real choice, Presley stood, draped her purse strap over her shoulder, and looked down at the tank top and cut-off jean short shorts she had chosen to wear tonight. Roan reached for the hoodie on the back of her chair, brushing an arm against her in the move.

  With the drinks she’d had and all the tingles that shot willy-nilly across her body with Roan’s proximity, she swayed on her feet, but Roan was on that too. Since he hadn’t looked away, he easily reached out to take hold of her bicep and keep her steady. Goose bumps instantly sprang up across her arms at the contact.

  Between the blush, the bumps, her sluggish mind, and her body’s instantaneous reaction to his touch, she dropped her head in her hands, scrubbing her face before looking up at him. She’d never been this close to him before—the time she lay sprawled across him notwithstanding—and their difference in height was more than noticeable. He was easily six feet tall. A full foot taller than she was. Her palm rested on her pounding heart, and she cleared her throat. Even then, Roan had to bend his head closer as she began to speak. “I need a bathroom.”

  “That’s fine,” he replied, giving a reassuring smile. If Roan noticed her hesitancy, it didn’t show. He kept the patient grin in place and extended a hand in front of her, urging her toward the back of the bar.

  Now that the moment of surprise was gone, Presley rolled her eyes at the silliness of her own behavior and took off toward the restrooms, ignoring her friends’ laughter. The man easily kept up with her, stride for stride. She busted through the ladies’ room door, not looking back as she bypassed all the stalls to go straight for the mirrors.

  What the heck had she got herself into?

  With one look in the mirror, everything faded as she
panicked for real this time. She was almost devoid of makeup except for some eyeliner and mascara and most of that was now underneath her lower lashes. She quickly dumped her purse in the sink, rifled through its contents, grabbing her hairbrush. Presley ripped the ponytail from her head and brushed out her long dark hair. Luckily, her hair hadn’t been up long enough to develop the ponytail hump. At this point, all she could do was count that as a blessing as she rummaged through the things in the sink, found the eyeliner, mascara, and lip gloss and began touching up those areas.

  “You’re dumb to be doing this,” she said quietly, barely moving her lips as she spoke to the crazy woman in the mirror. “He’s freaking Roan Westfield. Second round draft pick in the NFL. Going off to play pro ball where, of course, he’s going to go on to do great things with his life. You’re so dumb to be trying to look all pretty.”

  Ignoring her self-lecture, Presley bent forward, shoving a hand inside the low cut of her tank, repositioning her breasts, trying hard to make the girls look a little more perky. After a quick critical assessment, when she’d done all she could to make herself more presentable, she hurriedly gathered her things and headed for the stalls—which, technically, she should have done first.

  Now, with her hands washed, her confidence built, Presley slung her purse over her shoulder and swung open the door, only to stop dead in her tracks at seeing Roan leaned back against the wall directly across from the bathroom. His knee was bent, foot placed against the wall, and he glanced up without lifting his head. His grin spread slowly before he said the craziest thing ever. “I always liked your hair down.”

  As the bathroom door hit her in the ass, she tripped on her sandals and pitched forward. Presley’s hands reached for anything to keep herself upright as she awkwardly stumbled, barely managing to stay on her feet.

  Luckily, she righted herself before Roan had to catch her. With a sweep of her hand, she shoved her hair out of her face and quickly looked up. Roan’s grin had only grown, his handsome face brimming with amusement.