Dropout
Table of Contents
Author Highlights
Dedication
Acknowledgements
Dropout
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Epilogue
A Bad Boy Homecoming
About Carrie Ann and her Books
Trouble
Delicate Ink
Love Restored
Dropout
A Bad Boy Homecoming Romance
By
Carrie Ann Ryan
Dropout
A Bad Boy Homecoming Romance
By: Carrie Ann Ryan
© 2017 Carrie Ann Ryan
ISBN: 978-1-943123-76-6
Cover Art by Charity Hendry
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All characters in this book are fiction and figments of the author’s imagination.
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Author Highlights
Praise for Carrie Ann Ryan….
“Carrie Ann Ryan knows how to pull your heartstrings and make your pulse pound! Her wonderful Redwood Pack series will draw you in and keep you reading long into the night. I can’t wait to see what comes next with the new generation, the Talons. Keep them coming, Carrie Ann!” –Lara Adrian, New York Times bestselling author of CRAVE THE NIGHT
“Carrie Ann Ryan never fails to draw readers in with passion, raw sensuality, and characters that pop off the page. Any book by Carrie Ann is an absolute treat.” – New York Times Bestselling Author J. Kenner
“With snarky humor, sizzling love scenes, and brilliant, imaginative worldbuilding, The Dante's Circle series reads as if Carrie Ann Ryan peeked at my personal wish list!” – NYT Bestselling Author, Larissa Ione
“Carrie Ann Ryan writes sexy shifters in a world full of passionate happily-ever-afters.” – New York Times Bestselling Author Vivian Arend
“Carrie Ann’s books are sexy with characters you can’t help but love from page one. They are heat and heart blended to perfection.” New York Times Bestselling Author Jayne Rylon
“Carrie Ann Ryan's books are wickedly funny and deliciously hot, with plenty of twists to keep you guessing. They'll keep you up all night!” USA Today Bestselling Author Cari Quinn
“Once again, Carrie Ann Ryan knocks the Dante's Circle series out of the park. The queen of hot, sexy, enthralling paranormal romance, Carrie Ann is an author not to miss!” New York Times bestselling Author Marie Harte
Dedication
The BBH Girls. This was so much fun!
And also to that one person who might find herself in this book. You know who you are.
Acknowledgements
I loved every moment of this book. I am so blessed that I not only get to write happy ever afters for a living, but sometimes I get to work with amazing authors along the way. Thank you Kennedy, Stacey, Avery, and Katee for making this one of my favorite series ever! It was such a blast to work with y’all and I KNOW you helped make my book even better.
Thank you to Team Carrie Ann: Charity, Chelle, Tara, and Dr. Hubby for everything! I couldn’t do it without you!
And to the Sprint Loop Ladies—I seriously needed your help with writing times. Thank you!
And as always, thank you dear readers for going with me on this journey. I am truly blessed to have y’all in my life and I can’t wait to see what books I get to write next!
Happy reading!
~Carrie Ann
Dropout
A high school reunion is about to get down and dirty and a whole lot more complicated in this new erotic romance from NYT Bestselling Author Carrie Ann Ryan.
Grayson Cleary left town before graduation day and never looked back. Most people back home pegged him as a dropout. Over time, he’s worked to make something of his life and leave his past behind, so when his ten-year reunion comes up, he has no intention of attending. When his best friend begs him to go, Grayson finds himself confronted with a past he’d rather forget and the one woman he’s always craved.
Kate St. Dalton had everything when she left her hometown. Not only was she Valedictorian with a full scholarship, but she was also engaged to the boy of her dreams. Then, life threw a wrench in her plans, and she had to find a way to live the new life fate handed her. The last thing she needs is the hot boy from high school returning to town as the sexy man of her dreams.
When the two take a chance and use the reunion week to burn up the sheets, they’ll have to remember that it’s only for a few nights—not for a lifetime. And decide if what they have is just a fling…or something far more than a mere reunion.
Chapter One
Grayson Cleary wrapped his fingers around the lead pipe below him and grunted, annoyed it was taking this long to get the job done. He let out a breath, tightened his grip, and pulled. The pipe that some idiot had jammed underneath the carriage of the truck propped above him came out with a screech and almost banged him right on the head.
He let out a curse and rolled out from under the vehicle, flipping off his friend when Brody pressed his lips together as he held back a laugh.
“Did you hit yourself?” Brody asked, a little concern in his tone. At least the man had that. Now that he had a woman, he at least tried to act like he cared more than the others at their shop.
Grayson shook his head. “Came close, though.” He held up the pipe. “Why did this guy think this would make his truck sound like it had a bigger engine? It literally did nothing except freeze the whole damn thing when he tried to go up a hill.”
Brody shrugged, wiping his hands on one of the garage rags. “Saw it on YouTube, apparently.”
Grayson pinched the bridge of his nose, a headache coming on fast, then remembered he still had engine grease and God knew what else on his hands and let out yet another curse. Thank fuck they weren’t in the public part of the auto body and mechanic shop or Grayson probably would have been fired years ago. Cursing came naturally to him, and it had been a long time since he’d been in a position where he actually cared who heard the words coming out of his mouth.
Considering that his best friend Leah had an even dirtier mouth than he did, he figured it could always be worse.
“At least we don’t have to clean up as many keyholes or fix dents in doors these days since that viral tennis ball video seems to have died down.” Grayson went to the sink after dropping the pipe on the bench and washed his hands. He’d never fully get the grease out from under his fingernails—hazard of the job he loved—but he’d at least be cleaner than before.
“How many idiots broke their windows trying to push air into their keyhole?” Brody asked with a shake of his head. “I mean, it was good money for the shop, but still.”
Grayson let out a breath and glanced at the clock above the work area, subtracting seven minutes and adding an hour. The damn thing had been off for four years now, but the owner liked to keep everyone on their toes. Now, doing the math to figure out the time without having to take out their phones—and potentially breaking them because of the grease—had become second nature. What it said about him that he’d rather do the math than fin
d a ladder and fix the stupid thing he didn’t know, but at least he wasn’t the only one who just went with the flow.
“They’re idiots for sure,” he said absently. “I’m done for the day.” He gestured to the truck still on the lift. “Rick wanted to do the oil change when he got in tomorrow. Once he does, I’ll give it a once over and make sure the pipe didn’t do any permanent damage.”
Brody let out a breath. “I’m done, too. And, yeah, I don’t really want to think about what damage that DIY job might have cost this guy.”
“His fault for following a dumbass video.” Grayson cleaned up his area of the bench and wrote down a few notes for the next day as Brody did the same. “You want to get a beer before you head home.”
Brody shook his head. “Can’t. Holly’s taking the night off from grading, so I’m taking her to dinner before we have sex on the new couch.”
Grayson snorted as he grabbed his stuff. “She okay with you telling the world about your sex plans? Wait, you two really have sex plans?”
Brody smiled like a man who was not only in love but one who got laid on a regular basis. “She likes lists, and I like making sure she can check things off. What can I say? Sex on the couch sounds fun, and if she can use a shiny sticker on her to-do list later after I make her come, then all the better.”
Grayson would never understand couples in committed relationships. They were truly a weird and unregulated group of people. “Whatever you say, man.”
“Maybe you can grab Leah and get a beer if you’re thirsty.” The man winked, and Grayson rolled his eyes.
“I’m not having sex with Leah. Never have. Never will.” He shuddered just thinking about it.
“What? She’s sexy. You have to admit that. And she’s smart as hell. That’s usually your type, right?” Brody slid on his light leather jacket since the man had driven his bike to work. It might be a little too warm for a coat, but Brody had promised his new girl that he’d be safe.
Grayson froze. “I wasn’t aware I had a type.” The fact that Brody had just described not only the last woman he’d slept with but also the first woman he’d ever wanted in his bed worried him. He didn’t have a type, right? And it sure as hell wouldn’t be her.
Grayson quickly pushed that visual out of his head. He knew why she kept invading his thoughts, and there was no way he wanted to go down that road again.
Brody raised a brow and snorted. “If that’s what you want to keep telling yourself…”
“Don’t you have a couch to break in?”
“That I do, Grayson. That I do.” The man by his side practically whistled. If Grayson didn’t like him so much, he’d probably punch Brody right in the face just to keep him quiet. It wasn’t that he was jealous of the clearly well-lubed man—okay, maybe he was a little jealous, but that wasn’t all of it.
Grayson opened the door for them both as they went to the back lot where the employees were allowed to park. Their little shop had started picking up business recently, and Grayson had a feeling their employee lot would soon be no more. Not that he minded more business since that meant steady work, but he didn’t like the idea of having to park way the hell away with snow on the ground. As Denver usually snowed overnight or in the morning before melting away in the afternoon and icing over, that meant Grayson would be stuck with a shitty space, no matter what he did.
“Drive safe,” he called out to Brody as the other man swung his leg over his bike.
“You, too. See you after the long weekend.” And with that, the other man drove off, leaving Grayson standing by the side of his old truck that he’d done his best to remodel over the years. He could probably afford a new truck now, but he’d spent countless hours on his baby and didn’t want to part with it. When he’d first bought it, he’d barely had two cents to his name, but he’d needed a vehicle to get to work. At the time, he had lived on canned green beans and whatever food Leah brought over when he couldn’t afford groceries on his own. It wasn’t easy to find jobs these days with just a high school education—and barely one at that when it came to him.
He slid into his truck and banged his head on the steering wheel a few times. He needed to get the past out of his head and start living again. Only it wasn’t that easy when he had his best friend on his back about everything they’d done before they came to Denver—or rather, what they hadn’t done.
Grayson drove home, blaring music from his high school days since that was now the classic rock station. Dear Lord, it had only been ten years, but that apparently meant a throwback in the music world. He desperately needed a beer. He pulled into his driveway, grabbed his things, and headed inside the small, two-bedroom home he’d bought with his blood and tears a year or so back. The bank might own most of the place, but he made his monthly payments so he could call something his rather than it being rented, borrowed, or stolen.
He wasn’t that man anymore. Hadn’t ever been if anyone bothered to look beneath the surface. But to those who had thought to know him back when, he’d been the dropout, the slacker, the quiet one in the back who hadn’t done much with his life. They hadn’t seen the kid who had to work two jobs to keep a roof over his head and go to school at the same time. They were blind to the kid who wanted to do more with his life but hadn’t been given a chance.
Grayson twisted the top off his beer and chugged a good half of it down, pissed off once again that his mind had gone in that direction. He might not have become a millionaire in the past ten years, but he’d made himself a better man. Why the hell did he keep kicking himself because of it?
His phone buzzed, and he picked it up off the counter, rolling his eyes as he read the screen. He didn’t want to answer, but he had a feeling she’d kick his ass if he didn’t. And since he wasn’t sure he could actually take her—at least most days—he pressed Accept.
“What do you want, Leah?” He took a sip of his beer, needing the strength. He and Leah had been best friends in high school and remained that way after they moved from Catfish Creek, Texas to Denver, Colorado.
“I love that you answer the phone that way now,” she said dryly. “I mean, it makes me all aflutter.”
“Just get on with it since you call me at the same time every day to hassle me about the same damn thing.”
“And yet, you answer your phone. It’s as if you’re scared of me.”
He was. “I’m just being polite,” he lied.
“You love me,” she teased.
“Only on Wednesdays, and only because you saw me naked that one time and didn’t laugh.” It was their old joke, yet he knew if he actually said he loved her like his best friend and family, she wouldn’t laugh at him. But making fun of it was always easier for both of them.
“We were like fourteen, and you saw me naked, too.”
“And I didn’t laugh.”
“Of course, you didn’t laugh. I’m perfection. Anyway, I’m calling because you need to get your ass down here.”
Grayson pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m not going, Leah. You can’t make me.”
“For the love of God, just get your ass down here and come to this reunion.” There was something in her voice that worried him, and he leaned forward.
“What is it, Leah? Do you need me to go down there with you?”
“I’m fine, Grayson Cleary. No need to make me your damsel in distress.”
He let out a breath. God forbid, Leah Camacho ever admit that she might need help with something. “Why do you want me to go to our ten-year reunion? You hated high school as much as I did. Why go back?”
“Because, Grayson.” She didn’t elaborate, and he blew out a breath. She wanted him there for a reason, and he had a feeling it was because she wanted to go to show the others that she wasn’t the person she had been before. And if Leah needed him to go…he figured he’d have to go. She’d been his rock for most of his life, and he hoped it had been the same for her with him.
“I didn’t RSVP in time,” he said, trying one last time
to get out of it, just in case.
“I did for you, months ago. So get your ass down here.” And with that, she hung up, leaving Grayson alone in his kitchen, holding his phone in one hand and a near-empty beer bottle in the other.
Apparently, he was going to his ten-year reunion. He wasn’t sure Catfish Creek was ready for their town troublemaker and dropout to return. Then again, it had never been ready for the two of them, why start now?
In some ways, Catfish Creek, Texas hadn’t changed much in the ten years Grayson had been gone; but in other ways, he couldn’t recognize it. The town was about three hours west of Dallas—yes, Texans measured distance in time rather than miles most days—and a typical small Texas town where football reigned supreme, and Friday nights were all about the game and where to make out or party afterward.
Grayson hadn’t been part of that crew, but he’d been around enough to know what happened for most people who didn’t have to work two jobs to keep a roof over their family’s head.
The town still had its main drag that held many of the landmarks, but it had grown considerably since he left and his family had moved closer to Dallas for his mom’s new job. The Grange—the local dance hall and watering hole—looked like it hadn’t seen a new coat of paint on the outside since he left. But, Frank Dallas, the owner and former bull rider, usually cared more about the inside than what it looked like to strangers and passersby.
The Hamburger Shack still stood, though it looked like it had had a slight facelift in the past ten years. He’d gone there with Leah and his younger sisters a few times when he’d had the extra cash to spoil them since the Shack had the best greasy burgers and spicy fries this side of Abilene.
There were a few new buildings and wider streets that showed off the chain restaurants and shopping centers. And there were even a few new roads that looked like they went to some new neighborhoods. The town had grown in the time he’d been gone, but he wasn’t all that surprised by that. Catfish Creek might have that small-town feel, but it had a couple of Christian Universities that brought in hordes of students, staff, and professors. And with that came other jobs and new families. Towns without something like that or a natural resource to work on slowly died while the rest of the world moved on.