“Ah, yeah, I’m, ah . . . new to the circuit,” I said before sticking out my hand. “Phoebe Reede.”
“You’re Australian too,” he said. The smile that lit his face looked a little out of place on his dark, heavy features, but it was a welcome difference to the expressions I’d seen on Beau’s face and those of all his friends. He was a little older than most of the people I’d met on my journey so far—at least Dad’s age, maybe older—and dressed as a driver in a yellow-and-black race suit, complete with sponsorship badges. It was nice to have another friendly face to talk to.
I grinned. “You are as well?”
He nodded. “From Broken Hill originally, but I’ve been over here a few years now.”
“Wow, that’s awesome. I’ve lived all over, but at the moment, my family calls Ormeau home.”
He nodded. His eyes were laser focused on my lips. “It’s nice to meet another Aussie. Especially in this crowd. So, do you work in promotions?”
I laughed. Normally that sort of assumption would have pissed me off, but with the two flutes of bubbly bubbling away in my belly, it seemed more amusing than irritating.
One eyebrow lifted as his gaze trailed my body briefly. “No?”
“No, actually I’m a driver.”
“Oh, really? Wait, Reede . . . You’re the new driver with Richards Racing, aren’t you?”
“That’s me.”
“You . . . you’re not related to Declan Reede are you?” A shadow passed over his face momentarily, but then his friendly expression was back.
“Actually, yeah. I’m his daughter.”
“Of course.” His grin grew wider, but somehow held less warmth. “Wow, you’re all grown up, aren’t you?”
I frowned at his odd statement.
“I met you once before,” he explained. “Years ago. You couldn’t have been more than three or four at the time.”
“You know Dad?”
“Nah.” He waved away my statement. “I was just lucky enough to be at the track to witness his big comeback.”
“Bathurst.” I smiled. The story was well-known in our house. It wasn’t just the beginning of Dad’s renewed career, it was the birth of Emmanuel Racing, and also where Brock was conceived. That was probably a little more information than I needed to know, but kinda sweet at the same time.
“So, is he still racing?” The question was tossed out, as though he didn’t care about the answer to it, but in the interests of PR and growing the brand, I answered it anyway.
“No, he owns a team now.” I launched into information about Emmanuel Racing. I probably sounded a bit like an infomercial, but I’d learned the ins and outs by rote so long ago that it was hard not to fall into please-the-sponsors mode—especially when that’s what the night was for.
The guy’s eye twitched and for half a second, it looked like he was scowling, but then his smile was firmly fixed in place again. “Sounds like he’s done really well for himself.” He stared at a spot somewhere over my shoulder. “If you’ll excuse me.”
He moved away and I was left feeling a little confused about the exchange. I couldn’t say for sure whether it was positive or negative. The words had all been polite enough, but there was something buried beneath them that sent a chill down my spine.
I spun around, and my next step carried me straight into a muscled chest and an intoxicating scent that was too familiar. Even though I knew I shouldn’t, I inhaled deeply. As if my body was hardwired to react to him, that single breath was enough to cause my pussy to clench with need and my nipples to pucker to attention—which was dangerous considering I wasn’t wearing a bra, only a little fashion tape to keep everything in place.
AS I STAGGERED backward, Beau’s hands reached out to steady me back on my feet.
Up close, the effect of the mask was more devastating than ever. The shade of his cowboy hat darkened his eyes, giving them an almost salacious glint when he met my gaze. My breath caught in my throat.
“Careful there,” he said. His face was still too close to mine. The mint on his breath, mingled with the scent of Scotch, caused my head to spin.
“Sorry,” I mumbled, dropping my gaze from his. I wanted to force myself to look up because this girl wasn’t me. The one who fell to pieces at the sight of a guy. True, he was the guy who’d stolen my heart, only to tear it into a thousand pieces before shoving it back in my chest, unwanted and broken, but just a guy nonetheless.
I was about to make my retreat, but his blonde baby-mama came to his side. He gave her a small smile and placed his hand around her waist. My gaze fell to their connection, and my lips fell into a frown.
“Cass, you remember Phoebe, don’t you?” His hold on her waist grew tighter, more possessive. The way he’d said it made it sound like it’d been weeks since we’d met, not a little more than a day.
“Sure do.” She offered me a smile the same as the one the day before. “It’s so lovely to see you again.”
The words I really wanted to say were on my tongue, but I swallowed them down. Instead, I nodded and said, “You too.”
“Beau is simply insistin’ I come to work with him as often as possible. At least as long as I can,” she said, rubbing her hand over her swollen stomach. “So it’ll be real nice to have another woman to talk to.”
“Oh, yeah, I was just thinking that. We can swap knittin’ patt’ns and recipes.” My remark left me before I could second-guess whether it was appropriate, forced out with a mocking attempt at her accent.
“Oh, bless your heart.” The smile that touched her lips seemed genuine, as if she couldn’t understand the sarcasm in my voice. She probably couldn’t. Saint Cassidee had probably never heard a sarcastic word in her life. “We’re gonna be great friends, I can tell.”
“Sounds just swell and dandy,” I lied, crossing my hand in front of my body and giving her a thumbs up. It was a different finger to the one I really wanted to raise in her direction. “Now, if you two will excuse me, I’ll be . . . over there.” Anywhere else. I nodded in a vague direction, eyeing off a waiter with a tray of drinks. I’d only managed a dozen steps when a hand grabbed hold of my arm, stopping me in my tracks. One side of the wings on my back slapped against my arm as he yanked me backward.
“What’re ya doin’?”
“Getting a drink.”
Beau’s eyes narrowed. “You’re underage.”
“No one else here cares.” Using an exaggerated movement, I glanced around to prove that no one had even batted an eyelid about my drinking.
“Oh, I’m sure they will if I told ’em.”
I rolled my eyes. “Whatever, Dad.”
“Look, darlin’—”
“Don’t!” I snapped, cutting him off and clenching my teeth to stop my tears.
“What?”
“Don’t call me that.” I met his eyes and hope he’d see the don’t fuck with me printed in my stare. “You don’t have any right to call me that.”
He flinched but then scowled at me. “Don’t flatter yourself thinkin’ it means anythin’ more than it does.”
The statement was the reminder I needed of how little I’d meant to him. How every time he’d called me darlin’, it was little more than a reflex. A nickname for all girls. No doubt so that he didn’t have to remember our actual names.
And I’d thought I was special.
Idiot!
I stepped away from him. “Fuck you.”
“Really? That’s how it’s gonna be.”
I was more than ready to fight fire with fire. Angel’s note was at the forefront of my mind when I said, “That’s how you’re making it, Beau.”
He snarled at me. “You made your bed, darlin’, now ya gotta lay in it.”
“Well, you’d know all about beds and lying in them, wouldn’t you? Lying in general in fact.” I retreated, stepping backward away from him—still unable to tear my gaze away from his. Why did his eyes have to be so goddamned mesmerising even when it physically hurt to look into the
m?
“I came over to tell ya that I hope we can put this thang behind us and be civil.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “Civil? Are you fucking kidding me right now? After what you did?”
Every step I took backward, he followed. “What I did? Now if that ain’t the pot callin’ the kettle black. You were pretty quick to try to get me into your bed.”
Unwilling to uncross my arms, I rubbed my hand along my bicep and tucked my chin to my chest. “Did you come over to make a point, or just to give me shit?”
“My point is I’m a big boy, ya can’t break me with your cold-hearted stares, but I won’t take ya bein’ rude to Cass. She don’t deserve it.”
I blinked at him, unable to process his words. They washed over me like white noise again and again while I tried to confirm I’d heard what I thought I’d heard. When they registered fully, my breathing sped and it took every ounce of self-control I had not to screech at him to back the fuck off and leave me alone. I wanted to claw at his face, to tear at his heart until it bled in his chest like mine. Instead, I drew in a deep breath and let it out through my clenched teeth.
“You’re right,” I said as sweetly as I could. “Your fiancée didn’t do anything wrong. There’s nothing wrong with her at all. Nothing except her taste in men.” I spun to leave.
He grabbed my elbow, spinning me back to face him again. The wings fluttered together momentarily before falling back into place after I was steady on my feet. His lips were inches from mine. His hat shaded our faces. “I don’t recall ya havin’ any complaints durin’ our time together.”
His proximity sent every part of my body into overdrive. Despite everything that had happened between us, I just wanted to press my lips to his and taste him one more time. I shook off the sensation and pushed him away from me. “No, it was only what I learned after we were together that I can complain about.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” For the first time in the conversation, he retreated a step.
“Well, she said she was due in March. I do know how to count backward, Beau. June. You knocked her up in fucking June. For someone ‘saving yourself for marriage’ before we were together that’s a pretty big achievement. Was it an immaculate conception? Maybe you think it was because you think yourself a fucking god.”
“Ya don’t know anythin’ about it,” he seethed. Somehow, the flash of anger in his eyes, the set of his sharp jaw, and the long, slow breaths he was taking all combined to set fire to my libido. It made me want to piss him off more, to poke the bear until he attacked.
“Yeah, you’re right. I don’t. And that’s better, because I don’t want to know who else you might have been screwing. Maybe the photos I sent you were a little too inspiring. I guess they’ve inspired a lot of other people too by now, haven’t they?”
Rage flashed in his eyes and he looked like was about to say something else, but I cut him off.
“I’ll be polite to your girl, but polite is all you can expect. I’m not going to pretend to be besties with her just to make your life easier.”
“Polite? You owe me more than that.” He reached for my arm once more.
“I don’t owe you shit.” I yanked my arm back, but his fingers still hovered nearby—as if waiting for the chance to grab hold of me again. “And if I don’t speak to you again, it’ll be too soon.”
With the words, I finally found the strength to turn away from him.
“And once ag’in Phoebe Reede walks away without sayin’ goodbye. Without lookin’ back. Then ag’in, what else should I ’spect from ya?”
I froze in place and took a deep breath before spinning back to him. “Is that when it happened?” I knew it was impossible timing wise, she had to have already been pregnant before Beau and I shared our night together, but that didn’t stop the words spilling from my lips as my anger took control of the helm. “Is that the instant you went running to the comfort of Mary-Sue’s arms—”
He cut me off with a snarl as he grabbed for my arm again. “Cassidee.”
I rolled my eyes. “I. Don’t. Care.”
His gaze darkened as he narrowed his eyes at me.
I huffed out a breath. “You want a goodbye? Buh-bye, Beau.” I tugged free of his fingers, which had lingered over the crook of my elbow during our conversation—at least when he wasn’t dragging me back to him.
Even though I was technically supposed to hang around to wine and dine, I couldn’t stay any longer. It was too claustrophobic being so close to Beau. The last thing I needed was to have a meltdown in front of sponsors, media, and the team. To avoid that eventuality, I needed some space to get the conversation out of my head and calm my racing heart again. I pushed through the crowd milling around the exit, ignoring Dale when he called my name to introduce me to someone else. I refused to stop until I was outside and free.
It was only once I’d escaped that I remembered I was in the States, that it was the end of October, and that it was fucking cold. At least compared to the almost-summer heat I’d come from. The wings might’ve looked good with the costume, but they did jack shit for keeping me warm.
For half a second, I debated going back inside to grab my coat from the cloakroom, but I couldn’t. Not yet. I’d have to eventually, but first I needed some space. I needed to find my centre to avoid catastrophe.
I stalked away from the building and kept walking until I’d put some distance between me and the square of light around the entrance. My arms found a hold across my chest, but I wasn’t sure if it was because of the cold or because I was trying to hold my heart in place. It was probably a little of both.
Beau’s words echoed around my head. He was acting like I’d done the wrong thing. Or at least like I was the only one in the wrong. He was right about one thing—I should never have run from his home in Georgia without waiting until we could say goodbye. But at the time I’d been trying to save both our hearts. I’d genuinely thought it was for the best, and that we’d put it behind us since then. At least, he’d said he’d forgiven me for that. Besides, how was that the bigger crime when he’d gotten another woman pregnant?
Finding a place to sit, I dragged my clutch onto my lap and pulled out my phone. Before I’d had a chance to second-guess, or work out the time difference, I’d dialled Angel’s number. She would help me find my centre—just like she always could.
“Hey, girl, what’s up?” If it was late, or early, she didn’t let it colour her tone.
The tears I’d been holding back fell loose and I greeted her with a sob.
“Pheebs? What is it?”
“I’ve made the biggest mistake.” Each word was issued between a fresh sob.
“Hey, hey. Breathe, girlie, just breathe.”
At first it seemed impossible to find my lungs and make them work. Then I heard her steady instructions down the phone and followed her lead—taking slow, considered breaths. Breathing in was fine, but my exhalations shuddered through me in painful gasps.
“Now, tell me whose arse I need to kick that you’re upset mere days after arriving.”
I chuckled through my tears. “Mine. I shouldn’t have come here. I should’ve just left it. I didn’t expect things to be this bad though.”
“What happened?”
My mind spun with all the information, trying to figure out the best way to tell her everything that had happened since I’d landed a few days ago. It was nothing, and yet it was everything. “Beau is the other driver at my new team. I have to work alongside him all year.”
“Oh, crap.”
“Yeah.” A mirthless chuckle slipped through me despite my tears. “Isn’t it fucking grand?”
“I’m sorry, Pheebs.” She sounded genuinely apologetic, even though she had nothing to feel bad about.
“Oh, it gets better.” My bitter, sarcastic tone left no doubt that better wasn’t good.
“Better how exactly?”
I rubbed my hands over my forehead. “He’s engaged.”
&n
bsp; “Oh, shit. That was fast.”
A mirthless chuckle left me. “That’s not even all of it.”
“What else could there be?”
I could understand the logic behind her question. After all, having to work side by side with the person who broke my heart while watching him start a new life with someone else was already pretty fucking bad.
“She’s pregnant,” I murmured despite my dry mouth. The words drew a fresh sob from me.
“Aww, damn.”
“Five months pregnant.” My voice was almost silent as I forced the statement out.
“What?”
“Yeah.”
“Aww, Pheebs. I’m sorry I helped convince you to do this.”
I sighed. “Don’t be. I think I would have regretted it if I didn’t. I just . . .” I paused to fight off my tears again. “I thought he was different, Angel. I thought we were special. I think part of me hoped that I’d come over, find out there was all some big misunderstanding, and we’d end up back together again.”
“If it means anything, I did too. I was rooting for you. He made you happier than I’ve seen you in a long time.”
I nodded as another sob rocked me. “I don’t think I understood just how badly I wanted that until I saw him with her.”
“I’m so sorry, Pheebs. What are you going to do?”
I pressed my hand against my temple. “I don’t know. I’m sort of contractually obliged to be here now. To face him and his Stepford-wife fiancée everywhere I go. And I just don’t know how to do that.”
“I’m sorry, girlie. I’ll try to get over there as soon as I can if you want? It might not be much, but at least it’ll be a break.”
“I’m starting to wonder if I shouldn’t just see if I can get out of the contract somehow. I know Mum. She would’ve made sure there was an escape clause in there somewhere.”
“Running home with your tail between your legs? Damn, he did break you.”
Phobic (Phoebe Reede: The Untold Story #2) Page 5
