Phase (Phoebe Reede: The Untold Story #1)

by Michelle Irwin

  His hands lifted to my face, caressing my cheeks and forcing me to meet his eyes. “I am very sincerely sorry that any of my words hurt ya, li’l darlin’. That was certainly not my intention.”

  I should have backed away and followed through with my desire to leave, but I didn’t. Instead, I closed my eyes and allowed myself to enjoy the sensation that filled me at his touch. With the emotions rolling through me, I almost forgot why I was angry.

  “I guess I ain’t used to losing,” he said.

  I laughed and met his eye. “Yeah, me either.”

  “Let me try this ag’in. I’ll admit you can drive dang good.”

  I raised my eyebrow as I waited for the rest of the sentence.

  “And that’s where I stop talkin’.”

  I couldn’t contain my laughter.

  “Now, that’s more like it, darlin’. Can ya promise me one thang?”

  “What?”

  “If I say something to upset ya, please tell me. I’m just a man. I don’t always think thangs through.” His face dipped to be closer to mine. “I know you’ve told me this thang . . . This, whatever this is, is just a blip on the radar of your life, but I don’t want it to end sooner than it has to.” The distance between us grew smaller with each word, and after the last, his lips touched mine. The kiss wasn’t deep, or mind-blowing like others we’d shared, but it was still enough to steal my breath away. Halfway through, I tugged on his hips to bring him closer to me.

  I wanted to reassure him that it wouldn’t be just a blip on my radar, that I was already certain the memories we’d shared would be seared in my mind for the rest of my life, but I couldn’t do that without giving him false hope. It would be easier for both of us to say goodbye if we didn’t even consider the future. Besides, it wasn’t fair of me to ask for anything more from him than our summer fling.

  “You really are a sweet talker, aren’t you?” I accused with a smile as his lips left mine.

  “I can’t help it around you.” His thumb moved to trace a path over my cheek. “Ya make me softer than I’ve ever been before.”

  “Really?” I wiggled my hips, pressing against his growing erection. “It doesn’t feel like you’re all that soft.”

  “Dang girl, ya know how to drive me crazy.”

  Despite the danger I could see in the suggestion, I nodded toward the kart track. “We agreed on two out of three. Whaddaya say?”

  “I say that I don’t wanna push my luck. I’ll holler for dinner. Breakfast too, if that’s still in the cards.” He chuckled.

  I laughed. “I told you, it’s ‘shout.’”

  “I know, darlin’, but I hoped to see you smile again.” His thumb caressed the corner of my mouth. “Ya wanna head out?”

  “Yeah, I think I’m ready to go. I’m sorry today kinda went off track. I did have a good time, though.”

  “I am mighty glad to hear that.”

  We headed out to the car park.

  “So where do you want to meet up for dinner?” I asked as he walked me to my bike.

  “Why do we have to meet up?”

  “Well, I don’t want to leave my bike here.”

  “I got my truck. We can load your bike up and head off together if ya like?”

  “Now who was fixin’ to do what to your virtue?” I mimicked his accent as best as I could as I repeated his words back to him. “It seems like you came awfully prepared to take me with you.”

  He flushed red. “It ain’t like that, darlin’, I swear. I got bikes on my ranch so my pickup has a chock and ramps in the back.”

  “Oh. So you weren’t expecting anything?”

  “Other than having a good time with ya here and maybe being lucky enough to spend tomorrow with ya? No, ma’am.”

  “Sorry, I guess I thought . . .” I trailed off.

  “You were makin’ assumptions based on the fact that I’m a man?”

  I played with the end of my ponytail as his steady gaze assessed me. “Yeah. I guess I was. Sorry. I know how much that sucks.”

  “’S okay, darlin’. I’m used to dealin’ with certain stereotypes too.”

  “Really?”

  “Of course, li’l miss. Anytime I say the word virgin, there’s an assumption that there’s somethin’ wrong with me. Like I don’t have the same urges or somethin’.”

  A wry smile lifted my lips. “Well, we both know that assumption is incorrect.”

  “’Specially ’round you.” His words were so quiet it was easy to pretend I didn’t hear them. Or at least it would have been if heat didn’t rise over my cheeks, no doubt dragging a hint of red with it.

  Yeah, I know the feeling.

  WITH ALL THE equipment and proper strapping Beau had, it didn’t take long to load my bike onto his gorgeous custom Chevrolet Silverado. When he’d first mentioned the truck and the fact that he used it around his ranch, I’d expected to see a beater. Only it wasn’t. It was an almost brand-new, red-and-chrome beast.

  “Fuck, a truck like this could make a girl cream on the spot,” I murmured as I ran my finger over the chrome roll bar while he strapped down my bike. “What have you got under the bonnet?” I asked when we’d climbed out of the tray. I moved around to the front, waiting for him to open the bonnet.

  He looked confused for a moment, but then his eyes widened as something clicked. “You wanna see what’s under the hood?”

  I nodded. “Hell yeah!”

  He popped the bonnet and ran me through the specs of his V8 beast. Even though the height of the car left me barely able to see into the engine bay, I could tell that the work that had been done was integrated almost seamlessly. He started to run through some of the modifications he’d done to the intake and exhaust, and the custom chip he’d had installed.

  “And it’s ’bout now that most girls’ eyes glaze over as the boredom takes hold.” He looked almost bashful when he met my gaze. As if he thought he were boring me or something.

  “I told you already, I’m not most girls,” I said with my head still buried in the engine bay. “Did you do the mods yourself?”

  “Heh, some, but I also have a crew I can trust with that sort of thang.”

  “Well, pass on my appreciation, will you? It’s a shit-hot ride.”

  “Thanks, li’l lady. Ya ready to go?”

  I nodded and headed to the passenger door.

  “So, I’m guessin’ you’re a bit of a car enthusiast?” he asked.

  I laughed. “Yeah, you could say that. I’ve been around them for as long as I can remember. Some of my earliest memories are of being with Dad down in the back shed in our old house in Sydney working on his classics. Of course, things are easier on them. No chips or computers to worry about.”

  “Is he a mechanic or somethin’?”

  Or something is right. “Yeah, kinda. And one of my uncles part-owns a panel shop. Well, he’s not technically my uncle, but he was like a father to me for so long that we’re closer than most real families. His shop is one of the best in Australia. Between the two of them, I didn’t have a choice about being into cars.”

  “Wow.”

  “Yeah. I love it though. It’s tangible, you know? So many hobbies you just end up with nothing to show for it, but with cars and bikes, you can see the time you’re spending. Especially if you know what to look for.”

  “Was it your daddy that got ya into kartin’ too?”

  “Yeah.” I frowned as I thought about my family. Then tears welled in my eyes.

  “Hey, now, darlin’, what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. I just miss home. I thought I needed to get away from it all to find who I am, but all it’s done is make me miss them all.”

  He reached across the cabin and grabbed my hand. “I can understand that. Whenever I think ’bout Georgia, I find myself missin’ Mabel and Abby somethin’ fierce.”

  “Are they your sisters?”

  “Mabel’s my, uh, my foster mom. My mama died shortly after my seventh birthday. I never did know my d
addy. I went from house to house, causin’ a ruckus at each one, but I arrived at Mabel’s when I was fourteen and, uh, somethin’ happened.”

  “What?”

  “I fell in love with her daughter, Abby—Abigail.”

  My throat constricted and my brows pulled into a frown. “What?”

  He chuckled. “Yeah, I fell head over heels. An older woman by two years, and boy I woulda done anythin’ and everythin’ to impress her. Mabel, well, she used that to her advantage and had Abby ordering me around like some cut-price male Cinderella. It worked though. My grades picked up. I started helpin’ ’round the house. I stopped gettin' into trouble with the law. My reward was an old speedway car. Mabel said I could race it if I could fix it. I thought it’d impress Abby, so got to workin’ straight away.”

  “So what happened?”

  He chuckled. “I learnt how to fix a motor real quick.”

  I frowned. He wasn’t giving me the information I wanted. “I mean with Abby.”

  He glanced at me and the nostalgic smile on his face turned almost wry. “Why, li’l lady, do I detect a hint of jealousy?”

  “No.” The word was too fast, too guilty. “Uh, I mean, no, of course not. I’m just wondering, that’s all.”

  His fingers played over the back of my hand. “One night, ’bout a year after I moved in, I decided that it was time to make my move. I was certain I’d earned Abby’s attention, that her tellin’ me to do the right thang proved she loved me too. Mabel was going out to a PTA meetin’ and I thought I had my chance for romance. I set the mood for seduction the best I could, cookin’ the fanciest meal I knew, gettin’ all gussied up, had flowers, dessert, the works.”

  I pictured the sort of things he might do if he was putting in a massive effort and pulling out all stops. It would be something I wasn’t sure I could resist. “And?”

  “And I waited ’round for two hours. Abby never showed. Mabel got home first, walked in the front door, took one look ’round and guessed at my plan. She sat me down and told me ’bout her late husband Ern, and how they’d fallen in love. She tol’ me that it was important to save yourself for the right someone. That I’d likely fall in and out of love a dozen times before findin’ her. I promised Mabel that night that I’d wait ’til I found that gal. The special one.”

  I swallowed as I thought about how difficult a conversation it must have been at fifteen. Especially with no prelude. Mum and I had discussed sex a few times, but she and Dad had been so open that it was never an awkward topic. It was the reason I’d been on the pill since I was fifteen. Not that I’d attempted to talk to Dad about it. In his eyes, I would always be his princess and no guy would ever be good enough.

  “When I saw Abby the next day, she was gushin’ about her new boy and what they were going to do when they went off to college the next year. I saw that what I felt wasn’t requited.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said, even though I wasn’t sure why I said it. The thought of him with another woman made my eye twitch and my stomach churn, and yet I felt terrible for the fifteen-year-old him who’d had his heart smashed by the woman he’d had feelings for.

  Like I did to Max. I frowned.

  “Don’t be. I realised pretty quick that Mabel was right. I didn’t really love Abby.” He moved his hand away from mine and back onto the steering wheel. “At least, not as anythin’ more than a friend, and eventually a sister.”

  “What made you see that?” I wondered if it was something I could share with Maxie, to make him see that his crush was misplaced with me.

  “Lou-Anne Sumners.” He laughed. “Nothin’ better to help ya get over heartbreak than movin’ onto the next pretty thang.”

  “Have you been in love much?” I asked, trying to stop the words coming out as disgusting as they felt in my mouth.

  “Heh, ya know if ya’d asked me that a few weeks ago, I woulda said yes.”

  “And now?”

  His gaze travelled out the window and his jaw flexed; the tiny muscle beneath his ear rippling as he pressed his teeth together. “Now, I’d say I never really understood love before. Not the sort Mabel spoke of.”

  I tried not to overanalyse his words, but I couldn’t stop myself from turning them over in my head again and again wondering if he could really mean what it sounded like he was saying.

  He cleared his throat. “Anyway, let’s move on to happier topics.”

  “Happier? I thought you said you missed them.”

  “Yeah, I do.” His expression closed and he didn’t say anything more. He shifted in his seat, turning away from me.

  I watched his movements closely, recognising how similar they were to Dad’s when he was upset.

  “Beau, if you want to talk about anything, I’m a good listener.”

  “I’m sure ya are, darlin’, I’m sure ya are.” He didn’t say anything more though, and I hardly had the right to push for more information. Especially when I was hiding so much myself. I still hadn’t even told him my real name.

  Should I? The thing was, I’d grown fond of Beau, fond enough to want to spend some more time with him. What would he think if I told him the truth? Would he push me away? What future could we possibly have?

  “Beau?”

  “Yeah, Dawson?” He sounded tired when he responded as if the weight that had settled over him were physical and draining him more by the second.

  “Why’d you have to be so perfect?” It made it so much harder to keep the truth from him. I wanted to open my mouth and let every part of my life spill out. He’d probably understand, but to what end?

  He laughed. “I ain’t hardly perfect, but thank ya for the compliment.”

  A hush fell over us both as he hit the highway.

  “Where are we heading?” I asked after a moment.

  “Huh?”

  “Well, I’m just wondering where you’re taking me tonight, considering my hotel room is in Daytona Beach, and I’ve still got to get back there tonight.”

  “You’re stayin’ in Daytona?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  “Well, I’m down in Daytona too. I was gonna take ya out somewhere in Orlando, but if ya’d prefer we can head straight to Daytona. There’s a great Indian place. My boys and I went there the other night.”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  “So, why were ya in Daytona?” he asked.

  I might have minded the question if it weren’t for the fact that his curiosity had wiped away the traces of sorrow that had rested heavy on his brow. He glanced over at me when I didn’t answer straight away.

  “Darlin’?”

  “It’s a little embarrassing,” I admitted. “But I came down for the stock car race.”

  “Why’s that embarrassing?”

  “Because it’s not what people expect. Plus, I didn’t get to the race. I was stuck in bed sick all day and only got to watch bits of it on TV.”

  “Oh, that sucks, li’l darlin’. It was a great race.” He had an odd smile on his face.

  “You were there?”

  “Ya could say that. I take it ya don’t follow the sport though?”

  I gave a small headshake. “Is it that obvious?”

  He laughed. “A little.”

  “How?”

  “D’ya see the winner on TV?”

  “No. But I heard the end of the race. Some guy named Miller won, right?”

  His smile grew even bigger as he chuckled. Then he offered me his hand. “Beauregard Miller, at your service, ma’am.”

  “Miller? No way! You mean you’re . . .? So when you said you had business, you meant you were in town for the race?”

  “Told ya I was celebratin’ with friends last night. We had a big win. One-two.”

  “Uh-huh,” I said, still trying to process the fact that this man drove cars for a living. It explained the damn kart race and how he’d given me a run for my money. A tiny voice in my head echoed something I’d heard somewhere about girls falling for guys who were just like their dads.
Only, I wasn’t falling for him. And he was nothing like Dad. Was he? “So you’re a race car driver?”

  “That’s why I figured ya don’t generally follow the sport. No spark of recognition. No desperate need for an autograph. No urgent requests to get in my pants. It’s also why I suggested The Fun Spot ’stead of somewhere like Disney. Quieter, ya know? It’s been so danged refreshin’ not havin’ to be the Beau Miller that the public ’spects. Know what I mean?”

  I was about to say that I did when he continued speaking.

  “It’d be hard to understand ’less ya been there.”

  “Yeah, it would be.” It was probably the perfect opportunity to admit the truth, but I couldn’t bring myself to say the words. Not when he’d given me such an easy out.

  “I’m glad that ya know the truth now though; there ain’t nothin’ I hate more than lyin’.”

  I swallowed down the rising bile in my throat. He’d never lied to me; I’d just never asked what he did for a living. Whereas I’d lied to him. Flat-out given him a name that wasn’t my own, knowing the whole time that I was being dishonest.

  “What’s wrong, darlin’?” he asked, glancing at me with a worried look.

  “I’m just not feeling very well,” I said, curling around on myself like a ball. “I think I’d like to head back to my room instead of dinner.”

  “Are ya sure?”

  “Yeah, I’m not really in the mood to eat anymore. I just need some sleep. Big day tomorrow, right?” I fought back tears as I said the words.

  His expression fell flat. “Is this ’bout what I said?”

  I shook my head. “No. I’m just feeling a little off.” The lie slipped from me as easily as my first had.

  “’Kay.” He might have been agreeing, but it was clear from his frown that he wasn’t convinced.

  I gave him the hotel name, and he drove me there in silence. The mood in the car had shifted with my cancellation of our dinner plans, moving from comfortable and pleasant to stilted and stifling. I needed to get out of there, to get away from him, and think about what the hell I was doing. Why did I care if he hated liars, just because I’d lied to him? It wasn’t like we were going to be together forever or anything.