Roan (Hollywood Binge Novel Book 2) Read online

  Roan

  Julia Bright

  Rylie Roberts

  Roan

  Copyright © 2017

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  First Edition June, 2017

  Published by: Rylie Roberts & Julia Bright

  All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher, Rylie Roberts, [email protected]. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without permission from Rylie Roberts. Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/). Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author's rights and livelihood is appreciated.

  Roan is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Licensed material is being used for illustrative purposes only and any person depicted in the licensed material is a model.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Trademark Acknowledgements

  Blurb

  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

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Epilogue

  I. Chapter One of Cam

  About Julia Bright

  About Rylie Roberts

  Also by Rylie Roberts

  Trademark Acknowledgements

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following trademarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

  7-UP: Dr Pepper/Seven Up, Inc.

  Advil: Wyeth, LLC

  Barbie: Mattel, Inc.

  Blue Bell: Blue Bell Creameries, L.P.

  Bluetooth: Bluetooth Sig, Inc.

  Chuck E. Cheese: CEC Entertainment Concepts, L.P.

  Disney Channel: Disney Enterprises, Inc.

  Disney World: The Walt Disney Company

  Escalade: General Motors LLC

  Facebook: Facebook, Inc.

  Froot Loops: Kellogg North America Company

  Google: Google, Inc.

  Hilton: HLT Domestic IP LLC

  Instagram: Instagram, LLC

  Lexus: Toyota Jidosha Kabushiki Kaisha Corporation

  Loud House: Viacom International Inc.

  NASA: National Aeronautics Space Program

  NCA (National Cheerleaders Association): Varsity Spirit Corporation

  NFL: National Football League

  Nickelodeon: Viacom International Inc.

  Nicorette: Glaxosmithkline Consumer Healthcare, LPTahoe: General Motors LLC

  Pop-Tarts: Kellogg North America Corporation

  Porsche: Dr. Ing. h.c. F. Porsche AG Corporation

  Punk’d: Viacom International, Inc.

  Realtor: National Association of Realtors

  Snapchat: Snapchat, Inc.

  Soffe: M.J. Soffe, LLC

  Sperry: SR Holdings, LLC

  Twilight Zone: CBS Broadcasting Inc.

  Twitter: Twitter, Inc.

  Yeti: Yeti Coolers, LLC

  Ziploc: S.C. Johnson & Son, Inc.

  Blurb

  Even the best kept secrets only last so long.

  Life comes easy to Roan Westfield—big man on campus, college football star, girl magnet, and family wealth too—until a silly, beautiful, enchanting cheerleader takes a misstep into his lap at a citywide pep rally and changes the course of his life forever. Damn fate. In hindsight, he should have let her take the fall. His heart still hasn’t recovered from the deep ruts Presley left in her wake.

  Goal-oriented Presley Adams is determined to move past her meager upbringing, but life isn’t always easy on her. While she’s had her fair share of struggles, she generally manages to land on her feet, until an intricate tumbling pass goes askew and she winds up wrapped around the gorgeous upperclassman football star. She should have ignored how nicely he cushioned her fall, because the only thing Roan manages to do is leave her devastated and alone to pick up the pieces of her life.

  Secrets have a way of changing the rules. When California calls, both answer but for very different reason. Now, on a collision course with destiny, can Roan dig deep to find the answers he needs or will the past destroy his one true chance at happiness?

  Chapter One

  May 2010

  Roan Westfield pushed through the double saloon-style front doors, coming to an abrupt halt, squinting to give his eyes time to adjust from the bright sunlight outside. For a bar that closed approximately three hours a day only to get a formal hose-down before opening again, the Rusty Cow was unusually quiet this afternoon. He scanned the room, committing every single detail to memory. His heart twisted as the magnitude of the moment sank in. Today marked his formal passing of the torch. No more daily trips to the place where everyone knew his name. After tonight, some underclassman would claim his regular seat at the bar as their own. The Rusty Cow would become theirs, no longer his. Nostalgia swam in his gut. He’d come to this bar just about every day for the last four years. The sights, sounds, and distinct smells of greasy bar food were as familiar as his own face.

  There wasn’t much to the place. The actual bar took up about a third of the building. A few tables and chairs were scattered around a couple of pool tables, and a huge vintage jukebox sat along the outside wall, playing nothing but seventies country music. Pine coated every major surface: pine tables, pine chairs, pine bar top, and pine walls. Outside of that, lots of neon brightened the place up. Every neon beer sign ever made found a permanent home at the Rusty Cow. The bar didn’t rest on any sort of formality, and for Roan, this had been a second home to him well before he’d even been legally allowed inside.

  About the time his eyesight fully adjusted to the darkened interior, Roan made his way to the bar, grabbed his regular stool, and took a seat. He glanced around, taking in the familiar faces. He nodded at a couple of his former teammates while pushing his sunglasses back on his head.

  Finally, he anchored his forearms on the bar’s edge and waited for Lucky, the bartender, to turn his way.

  Once he had Lucky’s attention, the older guy stopped what he was doing and swaggered good-naturedly to his side of the bar. With his thick head of gray hair and long handlebar mustache, he looked like a cross between John Wayne and Sam Elliott. Lucky was country through and through. Those engrained southern manners had him extending his hand across the bar top for a shake. “Wasn’t sure I was gonna see you before you headed out. Want the usual?” he asked in that deep Texas drawl.

  “Yup,” Roan answered, giving a toothy grin to Lucky who’d been a friend as well as a father figure since Roan’s freshman year.

  “Figured you would.” As Lucky lifted a mug to pour his beer f
rom the tap, Connor Kilpatrick, a redheaded Irish linebacker, left the game at one of the pool tables, sidling up next to Roan at the bar, bumping him good-naturedly in the shoulder.

  “I’ll take another, Luck,” Connor called out before turning his attention to Roan. “Finish exams?”

  “Yup.” Roan gave an affirming nod.

  Connor’s freckled hand lifted for a fist bump and Roan obliged.

  “That’s cool, man. Chicago. Who’d have thought?”

  “Not me,” Roan answered truthfully. For the last month, he’d had this same conversation repeatedly. Hell, he got everyone’s confusion. Much to the shock of the entire campus, he’d been picked up in the NFL draft—second round even. Chicago said they saw potential. He wasn’t the fastest out on the field, but he’d consistently racked up a significant number of yards and touchdowns in his college career, and Chicago wanted to take the risk, give him a shot to see what he was made of. Since that unexpected day, he’d been on a whirlwind ride, trying to keep his feet planted on the ground long enough to graduate from college.

  He took the beer Lucky slid his way, clinking Connor’s newly filled mug in a toast.

  “When you leavin’?” Lucky asked in his gravelly drawl that felt more like home than any place he’d ever lived.

  “In the morning. I’m driving straight there. Gotta report in on Monday and then find a place to stay,” he said, a giant grin spreading, unable to hold back his excitement. It became a challenge to take that first drink with such a big smile on his face.

  “Shit, that’s cool. You better stay in touch. NFL. That’s big,” Connor said then downed a hearty gulp of his beer.

  An old Hank Williams song blared from the jukebox, sending an unexpected spike of aggravated violence up Roan’s spine. Only one person ever played that dumb song, and if to prove himself a glutton for punishment, Roan glanced over his shoulder to see Blaine fucking Daniels eyeing some women sitting on barstools set around the pool tables. Dammit, he’d have thought the douchebag would have been with his pretty girlfriend tonight since he was leaving her behind for summer break.

  Roan’s brow dropped as a scowl formed. He lifted the mug, taking a long swig because it completely sucked on every level that he even knew that last bit of information. His clinger-like fascination with Blaine’s girlfriend had only increased his aversion to the guy over the years. He seriously hated that arrogant prick who finally stopped eyeing the females and lifted his gaze, spotting Roan and Connor at the bar, then immediately sauntered their way. Shit. Roan adjusted in his seat, turning his head forward again, facing Lucky with a cringe.

  His scowl pinched his face. Resentment was a bitch, and Roan resented the hell out of Blaine. The douche had swooped in, gotten to Roan’s girl before he’d even had a chance to make his move. That was one year, nine months, and thirteen or so days ago. Roan still hadn’t managed to get over that missed chance or the snooze-you-lose attitude he’d gotten back from Blaine.

  Fuck him.

  “Hey,” Blaine called out too loudly for a guy standing less than a foot behind him then whacked him hard on the back, before sliding his palm up, clamping his hand around his shoulder. As if he couldn’t be heard or felt, Blaine cocked his head around Roan’s shoulder, getting right in his face, reaching across his chest to fist bump Connor.

  He shoved Blaine back and away, not hiding his irritation in the least. The guy didn’t notice his aggravation, and to add further insult, though Blaine had the whole damn bar, he chose to sit right next to Roan. Augh.

  Well, fuck. Didn’t that just piss him off that much more.

  “Hey,” Connor said, all happy and engaging, turning to get right in Roan’s face from the other side in order to talk to Blaine. “Headin’ out soon?”

  “Yeah. In the mornin’,” Blaine answered with his own overly exaggerated southern drawl. Roan caught Lucky’s smirk as the old man positioned a hip against the bar, crossing his arms over his chest. He’d figured out Roan’s distaste for Blaine long ago. A topic of many conversations between the two of them. Lucky knew that jealousy drove Roan. Hell, Roan knew it too, but no matter how he tried, he couldn’t shake his ever-growing disdain. The grin spreading across the old man’s lips proved Lucky was getting way too much pleasure out of Roan’s current predicament.

  “And you. Heard you’re leavin’ before graduation. I figured you’d stick around for that with how hard you been tryin’ to get your classes in,” Blaine said, bending, now able to look him straight in the eyes.

  How did Blaine even know all that? Yes, Roan had been working hard to finish the semester before he had to be in Chicago. Who knew if he’d even be able to make a career out of the NFL, so he wanted that degree, but technically, Blaine was the last person in his life who should know that bit of information. Roan always avoided the guy at all cost. Blaine’s creep factor just increased, making Roan shift closer to Con.

  Hell, he’d rather lay sprawled across Connor than share air space with Blaine.

  “I gotta report in on Monday.” That was all Roan said with the guy leaning forward to stay in his face. So. Fucking. Annoying.

  “Well, I’m headin’ to Baja Saturday for a couple of weeks. Then goin’ for a European tour. I need some time to think. I gotta figure out what I’m doin’. It’ll be my first year not suitin’ up, but I’m tired as fuck of this school,” Blaine said, his eyes casting down to the bar in some forlorn look of despair.

  “Huh.” Not really the question it might sound like. Honestly, he didn’t give a shit one way or another what Blaine did.

  Connor knocked him in the shoulder, and he looked over at the grin on his buddy’s face. Maybe he’d said that response with a little too much snark. While the campus was abuzz with Roan’s draft-pick status, there was a much more hushed conversation flowing around campus about Blaine having been formally cut from the university football team. The guy had talent but lacked focus and discipline, and that reached out to every aspect of Blaine’s life.

  Like always, if Roan ever allowed himself to think too much about Blaine, his thoughts automatically shifted to his gorgeous girlfriend, Presley Adams. More specifically, to an image he’d never been able to get out of his head—Presley playing in the ocean in a string bikini last fall, in Hawaii, after one of their away games. His eyelids drifted closed and his body hardened with the pent-up desire the mental image always brought. God, he was so pathetic. Presley just did it for him.

  He barely noticed the cheeseburger and fries Lucky slid in front of him.

  “Need anything else?” Lucky put a bottle of ketchup at the top of the plate, staring him straight in the eyes. That look meant he spoke of something other than the question he’d just asked. Lucky lifted his hairy eyebrow to a severe arch, making it clear Roan needed to get over himself—his jealousy was showing.

  “Nah, it’s fine,” he finally answered, averting his gaze. Mechanically, he reached for the bottle, dumping a load of ketchup on his fries. His destructive thoughts drowned out any response from the guy jabbering away beside him. Instead, he worried about his unhealthy fixation on a girl he’d technically only talked to a few times since he’d first seen her, yet he felt like he knew her better than anyone else he’d ever met.

  The problem was that Presley Adams had rocked his world. He remembered their first meeting so clearly. He had been starting his third year playing football. A seasoned running back. A starter. Totally living the college life, hitting it and quitting it every chance he got. Everything changed from that life-altering moment. Yeah, those carefree years now mocked him.

  The team had been at a citywide pep rally for the first pre-season game of the year. The whole town had turned out. The stadium had been full of fans, and his ego high. They had a solid chance of getting to a bowl game that year. He’d absently watched the cheerleading team tumble across the field—something he’d seen hundreds of times before. They’d been to every game he’d played since starting college. His life had been so freaking easygoing and
happy until a short, stacked, muscular little female had ended her tumbling pass in his lap.

  He’d been sitting on the first row, side chair, and she’d been heading toward him, doing all those twisty things in the air. He could tell she had skill, and she’d known she was a little off course partway across the field and had made a correction. The problem was the guy beside her. He didn’t have Presley’s talent. Her adjustment put her in a position to be knocked into the folding chairs where the team sat. Roan quickly swooped in, catching her in the air. She slammed against his body, ending up wrapped completely around him as they both tumbled to the turf. Roan did manage to break her fall. She lay fully sprawled across his body, her long brown hair fanning out around them as her startled ice-blue eyes collided with his. He got the air knocked out of him, and it wasn’t even because of the fall. She was the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. Her full lips parted, his dick swelled, and his arms tightened around her body to hold her there as she placed two hands on his chest and tried to rise.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, panicked. The sound of an angel. Her knee rammed into his crotch. Roan had taken it as a caress.

  “I’m not,” he replied honestly. Everything faded away—the pep rally, the tumbling pass, the crowd surrounding them. Only the two of them remained as his heart stuttered forcefully in his chest. Problems he hadn’t even realized he had were now resolved as his heart reached out and connected, maybe even intertwined, with hers. On instinct, he lifted his hand to the back of her head. The plan was to pull her forward to seal their fate with a kiss—seemed the perfect idea even as her alarmed gaze turned confused.