“Except now I can’t stop picturing riding—” I cut off as the mental image grew stronger. I’d had plenty of self-induced orgasms since going through puberty, but never had I had such a strong fantasy about actually having sex with a specific guy. I could imagine everything. My breathing sped as I pictured him whispering words of passion while I rode him. Of his calloused hands trailing the soft skin of my body. I bit my lip to stop myself from moaning.
“Yeah, I know exactly what you want to ride, you dirty, dirty girl.”
“Stop it, or I’ll hang up on you.”
“I’ve gotta go anyway, girlie, it’s almost midnight here.”
“Oh, shit, sorry, Angel, I didn’t even think of the time difference before I called.”
“That’s okay. Besides,” she said, “I’m sure you’ve got something else to think about. Maybe a little finger-fiddling to do.”
“I’m not going to . . .” I trailed off. “Okay, so maybe my fingers’ll do a little fiddling.” We both burst into laughter.
“I wouldn’t want to disrupt a good night of finger-flicking fun so I’ll let you get back to it.”
“You’re a funny girl, Angel.”
“I know. If the whole modelling thing doesn’t work, maybe I can go into comedy.”
“Night.”
“Night. Oh and Pheebs?”
“Yeah?”
“Yee-haw!” She hung up.
I chuckled as I checked the phone for any reply messages from Mum or Dad. Then I went in search of the other phone. I must have buried it with my movement as I’d spoken with Angel.
When I found it, my heart stopped. There was an active call—to the only phone number on the mobile.
Fuck!
How much had Beau heard? I lifted the phone to my ear. “Hello?” A thousand and one apologies and explanations were ready on my tongue.
There was silence. Had he realised it was a butt-dial—or whatever body part had actually called him—and put the phone down? If so, how far into the conversation had he listened?
My face flushed with heat as I wondered whether he’d heard me admitting that I would be flicking the bean to thoughts of him. Somehow the thought of him overhearing that was a thousand times worse than admitting it to Angel. Did it matter in the end? Couldn’t I just turn the phone off and never hear from him again? Dump the phone in the hotel trash.
Of course, I wasn’t so out of touch with my emotions to know the exact reason both of those ideas made my chest ache and my stomach twist. I wasn’t ready to say goodbye yet, even though I knew I would have to eventually.
My fingers were poised to type an apology before I decided to just leave it alone. See if he brought it up next time we spoke. After all, he might not have heard anything.
I plugged both phones back in to charge and rolled over to try to get some sleep despite the dread that had settled over me.
THE NEXT FIVE days saw me cross through three states, riding roads I’d only imagined in my wildest dreams, as I moved slowly toward the east. Each day offered new experiences—some that I’d booked and a few that I’d lucked out and got tickets for. I’d never forget any of them. I’d gone dune jumping in the Little Sahara National Park, skydiving over Texas, and parasailing in Oklahoma. Each time I saw a new activity I thought might get my heart racing, I’d stop to see if I could get a spot. I even managed to call home a couple of times to wish both Dad and Brock a happy birthday on the right days, for them at least.
What I didn’t experience over those days was a single conversation with Beau. I’d tried calling him a couple of times, but each time his phone was either off or rang out. I tried to keep the tone of my text messages light and airy, but his responses were short and clearly fired off with little thought.
Despite the fact that I’d all but given up on him, I couldn’t find it in myself to turn the phone off. As soon as I was plugged back in with a current sending life into my phone, I’d turn it on and watch it while I waited for his call. It was pathetic really.
On the fifth night, a Tuesday, I’d practically given up on talking to him again. All I could think was that he’d heard part of the conversation with Angel and hadn’t liked what I’d said.
Maybe our fling had flung, and he was put off by my crass mouth and inability to filter. If that was the case, then fuck him. I didn’t need to spend time with someone who didn’t let me be me.
Just when I was about to turn the phone off and give up entirely, it rang.
“Found a moment in your busy schedule to call me then, did you?” I asked, my tone perhaps a little too snippy. I was acting like a jealous, possessive girlfriend even though I had no claim over him.
“Heh, sorry, darlin’, I didn’t realise ya’d miss me so much.”
What was I supposed to say to that? Either I had to admit that I’d been eagerly waiting for his call every night, or tell him a lie. “What can I say? You’re the most interesting guy I know in the States.”
He chuckled. “Ya sure I ain’t the only guy ya know?”
“That too.”
“Thought so.”
“I did miss you though,” I admitted.
“Sorry. Got caught up with a work thang. It was unavoidable.”
“So long as you weren’t avoiding me on purpose.” Heat rushed my cheeks the instant the words were out. Damn my inability to filter fucking words before they fell out of my mouth.
“Dang, sweetheart, I could never avoid you. You dunno how hard it was to get things done this weekend with visions of you dancin’ in mah head.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, uh, especially after the last phone call.”
My first instinct was to run our last conversation through my head but then realised he probably wasn’t talking about the last time we spoke. “What about our last phone call?” I asked around the fear clumping in my throat.
“Oh, darlin’, don’t make me say it.”
“Say what?” I needed to know how much he’d heard.
“I, uh, well, I heard ya talkin’ to your friend. And y’all were talkin’ ’bout me.” His voice softened and revealed a hidden vulnerability when he said the last two words.
“Oh. Yeah. Umm, about that, I didn’t mean to call you. It was an accident, but then I wasn’t sure how to bring it up in a message. ‘Did you hear me talking about how I was going to masturbate over you,’ didn’t really feel like a great way to—”
I cut off when he did the weird choking-cough thing again. “You what now?”
My face fell. “Oh . . . You didn’t hear that part?”
“No, ma’am. I was in the shower when the phone rang. I started listening to the voice mail and realised it was an accidental call. I hung up when ya started talkin’ ’bout your friend being kinky, and about meetin’ me. That’s when I stopped listenin’; I felt bad for intrudin’ on your privacy.”
“Oh. Well, just forget what I said just now then.”
“Not sure I can do that, Dawson. Those words are stuck in my brain now.”
“I can’t be the first girl to suggest that you make her want to fuck herself?”
“Well, now that ya mention it, no, ma’am. As I said before, occupational hazard. But, ya are the first that I’d love to watch while she does it.” His words were low and full of need, sparking their counterpart in me.
“Fuck,” I murmured. “That’s so hot.”
“Oh, darlin’, what are you doin’ to me? I used to be such a good ol’ country boy.” It was clear his words weren’t accidental. He’d at least heard me say that his voice made me want to come on the spot.
I was emboldened by his admission. “I don’t know about the watching part, but maybe you can listen?”
“Not sure I follow.”
Rolling onto my back, I held the phone to my ear with one hand and let the other trail a path over my body. “Hmm, really? That’s a shame. Maybe I need to spell it out clearer. Maybe I need to tell you exactly where my hands are going right now . . .”
<
br /> I rolled one of my nipples between my fingers, and my breathing sped at the pleasure that rushed through me as I imagined his hands taking over.
“Sweet Jesus, are you . . .”
When he trailed off, I let out an exaggerated moan before bursting into laughter. “I’m not quite that easy, cowboy. You’d need to buy me dinner first at least.”
He hummed. “Well, I’d need to see ya ag’in to do that.”
“Now, that’s true. And I don’t even know where you are at the moment.”
“My second home. North Carolina.”
I rolled onto my stomach. “You’re still half a country away then.”
“Where are ya?”
“Oklahoma.” I couldn’t help but sing the first line of the musical by the same name.
He chuckled. “Well, I’ve learned one thang about you, ya ain’t no singer.”
“Funny, cowboy, I’d like to hear you do better.”
“One day, li’l darlin’, one day.”
“Yeah.” My voice was wistful when I said the word. I really would have liked to see him again before I finished my trip, but with his apparently crazy itinerary, and my journey having no specific plan, it didn’t seem likely. “One day.”
“So no promise of another date? Dang, woman, ya make it hard to court ya. Can’t ya give me somethin’ more?”
“Like?”
“Like, maybe your last name?”
“Umm . . .” I didn’t know what to tell him. Admit I’d been lying? Simply refuse to answer him? It wasn’t like I was going to see him again, despite the phone and conversations.
“Dawson Umm. I like it. Has a nice ring to it.”
“Funny.”
“Seriously, darlin’, what is it that has ya so scared?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, it sounds as though ya still talk to your family, and ya don’t look like you’re the sort to be in trouble with the law, so what is it? What has ya running?”
I sighed as I thought of the easiest way to answer him. “Me.”
“Ya lost me ag’in,” he admitted.
“I’m running from me. From who I am and what’s expected of me. Haven’t you ever wanted to forget all your obligations and worries just for a while?”
“Please don’t tell me you’re married, darlin’, ’cause that might just break mah heart.”
I laughed. “No, nothing like that. No kids either, well, unless you count my little brothers and sisters. I help look after them all.”
“How much younger?”
“Mum and Dad had me really young, so there’s a bit of a gap. My youngest sister is eight months. Actually, no, she’d be nine months by now.” A lump rose in my throat at the thought that she was growing older every day while I was away.
“Thank you,” he said, distracting me from the pangs of homesickness.
“For what?”
“For sharin’ part of yourself. I was startin’ to think you’d disappear before ya gave me anythin’.”
“I’m not being deliberately obtuse. I promise. I just . . . Well, that world and my trip here, they can’t collide. I’m not her while I’m here.”
“Did she do something terrible? Or is it like a Cinderella deal, wicked stepmom and a stack of chores?”
I laughed. “Actually, no. A terrific home life and a job I love, working with my dad.”
“Ooh, sounds dreadful, darlin’, I can understand why ya ran away,” he teased.
“Shut up,” I said through my laughter.
“Ya know no matter how far ya run, ya can’t outrun yourself.”
“I know. I just need to figure out who I am away from all of that, that’s all.”
“The woman I’m speakin’ to right now, is she who ya are away from all of that?”
“Yeah.”
“Then I think ya should stay away from all of that, ’cause I kinda like her.”
My lips twisted into a smile I couldn’t have fought even if I wanted to, as butterflies raced each other in laps around my stomach. “Yeah?”
“Oh yeah. I kinda like her a lot. In fact, I’d kinda really like to see her ag’in before she vanishes to become who she was before.”
“Do you really mean that?”
“That ‘one day’ wasn’t a hypothetical for me. I wanna do it if it’s at all possible.”
A thousand emotions I’d never felt before burst to life in my chest, leaving me barely able to breathe. The fluttering of my heart stole my voice as I said, “I think I’d kinda like that.”
I had no idea how we’d work it out, but the more I spoke to him, the more I wanted to.
There was a sharp intake of breath as my words hit home. “Yeah?”
“Yeah, I came to the States for an adventure. And I’m starting to think that adventure might be you.”
The silence on the other end of the line was deafening. For a moment, I thought we’d been disconnected, but then I heard his speeding breath. I worried my lip with my teeth as I waited for him to say something.
“What are ya doin’ to me, darlin’?” he asked eventually.
Probably nothing compared to what I want to be doing. I stamped down the words, figuring the conversation had probably had enough of me pushing the boundaries.
“I ain’t ever felt this way before,” he added.
“Me either, Beau, me either.”
“G’night, sweet darlin’. We’ll work out details tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Yeah, I need to go now, and it gives me a ’scuse to talk to ya ag’in soon.”
“You don’t need an excuse,” I said. “I’ll talk to you anytime.”
With a heavy heart, I wound up the phone call. By the time I’d finished getting ready for bed, my body tingled at the thought of seeing him again. The butterflies were dive-bombing, and my lips were stuck in a smile.
God, I was pathetic.
AFTER I’D CHECKED out of the motel in Oklahoma, I drove the bike in a lazy circuit of the town. I had no idea when Beau was going to call, and I didn’t want to miss it when he did. I’d been puttering around for almost two hours before I wondered whether perhaps he’d wait until the evening because that’s when we’d always talked before.
Instead of waiting—and driving myself crazy in the meantime—I pulled out the mobile phone and called him.
“You’re callin’ a li’l earlier than I woulda thought,” he said as a greeting. “Anyone’d think you’re anxious to speak to me.”
“Not at all,” I lied as smoothly as I could—which wasn’t very. “I’m just trying to figure out which direction I should point my bike.”
“Lucky for you, I got it all figured out, darlin’. Providin’ ya can make it to Orlando by the third. Uh, that’s in Florida.”
“I know where Orlando is. And you’re in luck because Florida’s on my list of places to visit.”
“I reckon that sounds like fate.”
“Maybe. So what are you thinking?”
“I gotta work down that way the weekend before, but I’d love to stay on and meet ya for a bit of R&R afterward.”
“That sounds great, and actually fits my plan perfectly.”
“I didn’t think ya had a plan?”
“I don’t, not really, but there are certain things I wanted to see.” There was a stock car race down in Daytona that I wanted to check out, but I wasn’t about to admit that to Beau. He no doubt already thought I was odd enough for my ability to handle my bike. If I admitted wanting to go to a race meet alone, he’d probably think I was completely weird.
Or car obsessed.
Maybe I was, but it always intimidated men if I let them know that too soon. Even Mike back in Sacramento had proven that theory.
“Well now, I reckon that works for both o’ us,” he said before giving me the details of a theme park he wanted to take me to on July third.
The Fun Spot. A thousand jokes were on my tongue about other fun spots we could explore, but I let them die
because of his earnest excitement.
“My treat and I won’t take no for an answer,” he insisted.
“Okay, I’ll see you then.”
“Oh and Dawson?”
“Yeah?”
“Ya can call me before then if you’d like to.”
“We’ll see.”
He laughed. “You’re such a tease.”
“Always.”
Once we’d finished the call, I turned the phone off and then checked the other one to make sure things were still good at home. Then I climbed onto my bike and started my journey toward Florida. I had almost a week to get there before the race on the second, and yet that seemed far less important than ensuring I was in Orlando just a day later.
MY TRIP to Florida was faster than most of my meandering travels across the country. Probably because I was so keen to get to the end. To see Beau again, as crazy as it was. The only time I’d stopped was for a steamboat ride up the Mississippi River. Other than that, my only entertainment was taking my bike up some scenic roads and just enjoying the time alone.
I timed a call home so that I was able to chat with everyone and tell them all about my travels. After listening to Beth sob down the line about how much she missed me, I was glad I had some plans, or I would have probably cashed in the rest of the trip to book a seat on the first flight home.
When I told Dad about heading down to the race in Daytona, he joked around that I should get on the track and show them how it’s done, and then went on to make a joke about the shape of the track. “Those yanks don’t know how easy they’ve got it,” he said with a laugh. “Turn left. Turn left. Turn left. Turn left. And you’re done.”
“Should be interesting to see how it compares with a race meet in Australia,” I said.
In the background, I heard Mum’s voice murmuring something to Dad.
“Mum said to get some photos of the sponsorship signage. Maybe we can incorporate some ideas into the ER team.”
I chuckled. “I’ll try, but I’m not guaranteeing anything. I’m on holidays, remember? While I’m here, I’m not Phoebe Reede racer extraordinaire. I’m just me.”
“Okay, Just Me, have fun, won’t you?”
“Yeah, I will, Dad.”
Phase (Phoebe Reede: The Untold Story #1) Page 11
