Phase (Phoebe Reede: The Untold Story #1)

by Michelle Irwin

  The way he’d started the story, a slow recount as if every word were seared in his memory, told me this was more important than I could image. Despite being uncertain how exactly it was an answer to my question, I let him keep talking rather than interrupt with more questions.

  “I was tired and me and Abby were arguin’ about her latest boy. He thought it was okay to slap her around, and when I told her it wasn’t, she defended him. I was so mad—so distracted—I didn’t see the other car ’til it was too late.”

  His gaze remained fixed out the window on his side of the car as if he couldn’t stand to look at me while telling his story.

  “All I saw were headlights, and then I heard the noise that I won’t ever forget. When I woke up, I was in the hospital. Alone.”

  “What happened?” I asked, hoping he’d understand that I meant why and how, not what. It was clear enough that there’d been some type of accident.

  “The other driver had been drinkin’,” he muttered.

  My heart ached for him, and I understood his reluctance to get behind the wheel the previous evening. It was a smart decision at the best of times, but one that was impossibly easier when living a life touched by the tragedy of a drunk driver.

  “Not long after I woke up, the sheriff came by to tell me that Mabel had passed instantly at the scene and that Abby was in the hospital with me.”

  “My God, Beau,” I said, resting my hand on his arm again to provide him comfort.

  At first, he flinched away, as if he’d forgotten I was there. Then he relaxed, but the weight of the story was still heavy on his brow.

  “I’m so sorry,” I added.

  He shrugged off my concern. “It was almost enough to swear me off drivin’ fer life. It was impossible to even imagine gettin' behind the wheel again, let alone go racin’.”

  “What happened?”

  “Mabel’s will. She’d set up life insurance that was to be split between Abby and me. When the money came in, ’nough to ensure I could live my dream, I saw it was her way of tellin’ me not to give up on it. Or myself. It’s why I’ve been so careful not to break my promises to her. How could I ask for forgiveness when she ain’t here to give it no more?”

  My heart ached. I knew all about promises to the dead. Wasn’t that exactly the reason I’d always taken such good care of my body? Okay, I hadn’t been old enough to actually promise Emmanuel anything before he died, but part of me always felt like I owed him that much at least.

  Yet, I’d been the reason Beau had broken his promise. Would he hate me for it when we parted? I swallowed my guilt. It wasn’t the time or place for it. Beau certainly didn’t need it. There would be time for conversation around that later. For the moment, I had another burning question. Something he hadn’t said, and despite the fact that I wasn’t sure I wanted to ask, I heard myself say, “So what happened to Abby?”

  He rubbed his eyes with his hands. I wondered whether it was because he felt the sting of tears, or whether it was a frustrated gesture. Should I shut up and stop pushing him on it all?

  “She ain’t never been the same since. She’s awake, but she ain’t aware. Her share of the money went into a trust, and now it pays for the best care I can get her.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I said again, and I really was. Not only for what he’d gone through but for the way I’d acted and all the things I’d said. I’d been yapping on about my family, and my problems, when he had this tragedy in his past. I wanted nothing more than to wrap him in my arms and never let him go.

  He cleared his throat. “Yeah. Me too. Ya woulda loved ’em both,” he said, finally looking at me. “And they woulda loved you. Ya woulda definitely earned Mabel’s stamp of approval.”

  “Really?”

  He shook off a little of the sorrow and gave me a watery smile. “Oh yeah, she always had a soft spot for the troublemakers.”

  “Hey, I’m not a troublemaker . . . okay, so maybe I am, but only a little.”

  “Ya know, it’s funny,” he started before trailing off as he turned down a long driveway.

  “What is?” I prompted. I watched the side of his head rather than our surroundings. How was it possible that I’d only known the man for a few short weeks, had spent less than forty hours with him in total? It seemed impossible.

  “I ain’t told too many people that story,” he continued. “It’s too personal to talk ’bout with just anyone. Especially when so many tabloids would love to know the details.”

  I could understand. Tragedy and the media never mixed too well. Every few years, some journalist or another dug up the details about my history, or Dad, and rolled them out for public comment again. Was it the same for him?

  “But I’m, uh, actually glad I told ya.” He reached for my hand, tracing his thumb across my knuckles. His eyes met mine, and I was struck dumb by what I saw. The emotions burning in his chocolate and amber irises made me ready to give everything up for an hour or two more with him. He cleared his throat. “Well, this is us.”

  I’d been so enthralled with him that I’d barely acknowledged we’d stopped. Even now that we had, I couldn’t willingly turn away from him. My heart pounded in my chest and my breaths were shallow, not from need or desire, but from the completely overwhelming sensation that had built within me as I watched his pain echo across his face. I wanted to help ease it for him but didn’t know the right words.

  I didn’t know how to do any of this.

  Breaking our eye contact, I was finally able to draw in a deep breath, but it shuddered through me. Nothing else mattered but him, and yet to give him the space he needed, I turned to look at the “bed and breakfast,” which was more a multi-star resort with multiple accommodation options and a stand-alone restaurant. I wasn’t sure what I’d expected, but I was gobsmacked by what I saw. There was a series of buildings and cabins dotted over the property, all close together but still far enough apart to offer each one some privacy.

  One was clearly the original house, a quaint little building hidden slightly from the others by a screen of tall oak trees, white picket fence, and shrubbery. It was a miniature version of the sort of plantation houses I’d seen in movies and on TV.

  Stretching from there were three standalone cabins, each one with the same rustic charm. Finally, at the end was a more modern building with a wall made almost entirely of glass. I turned to see what view could possibly warrant so much glass.

  At first, I was unable to see it properly because of the thick forest, but then I saw a concrete footpath that weaved between the trees, leaving an uninterrupted glimpse at what would be visible from those windows. I gasped at the sight of the small, old, wooden boathouse and smooth concrete jetty set on the crystal-clear lake. On the other side of the lake, the treeline quickly yielded to a mountain view.

  Halfway to the lake was a huge open campfire area, which looked like it had regular use.

  “Wow. This place is just . . .”

  “Wow?” Beau teased, his lips pulling up into a smile.

  “It’s so beautiful.” I had my bag slung on my back so that I didn’t have to worry about doing another trip later.

  He shrugged. “It’s home. At least, when the occasion calls for it.”

  “Does anyone else live here?”

  “Joe and Mitch are the caretakers; they live in the big glass monstrosity.” It looked like he was going to say more, but then his hand closed around mine. “Come. I’ll show ya ’round the inside.”

  He led me into the semi-screened, private house.

  After showing me where to leave my bag, he took me on a tour of the modest three-bedroom home. It was surprisingly barren of photos and mementos. At home, our walls overflowed with photos of all of us kids, pictures of all our various placings and successes—including mementos of Dad’s many wins, and between the custom helmets we’d worn over the years and trophies we’d all won in various sports and events, every shelf in the house was just about bursting at the seams.

  When I
casually let slip that I thought there’d be more photos, Beau gave me a sad smile. “I only bought this place a few years ago, and I’m only here when my schedule allows, which isn’t as often as I’d like. So the boys add it to the roster of available rooms when I ain’t usin’ it. Plus, after Mabel passed, when Abby was sick in the hospital, I had to pack everything we owned away. Since then, it’s been too painful to try to bring ’em back out. Most of it’s up in the attic. Some’s with Abby.”

  Unsure what to say, I rested my hand on his forearm.

  “I’m gonna let Joe and Mitch know I’m here an’ rustle up some food from the kitchen in the restaurant. D’ya think ya can keep yourself entertained for a while?”

  “After eight hours in the car, I’m sure I can think of something.”

  He smiled before lifting his hand to the back of my head and drawing me in for a kiss. Almost the second his lips touched mine, the kiss reignited the fires that had been slowly ebbing within me since climbing from the truck.

  “I’ll be back soon,” he promised as he pulled away. When he reached the door, he glanced back at me and smiled

  After he’d left, I had a shower and changed into something comfortable. Then I returned to the couch in the living room and read for a while. When almost an hour had passed and Beau still wasn’t back, I turned on my phone and rang home.

  I WAS MIDCONVERSATION with Dad when I heard footsteps outside. The last thing I wanted was to be caught on the phone if Beau came in calling out a joking, “Honey, I’m home,” or something to that effect.

  “I’ve gotta go,” I said, cutting Dad off midsentence. “Room service just arrived. I’ll talk to you later.”

  “Okay, sweetie.” Dad seemed a little put off, but didn’t make too big a deal of it. Maybe because he knew I would be home in just a few short days. Too short. “I love you.”

  My gaze met Beau’s, and I chewed on my lip as I debated whether to respond the way I usually would. Normally, I’d fire off an I love you without hesitation, but between Beau’s family situation and being a grown-arse woman, it didn’t seem right, so I turned away from Beau and settled on, “Yeah, me too. I’m counting down the days ’til I get home.”

  I swung around again to find Beau standing in front of me with a bemused expression on his face. “Room service?”

  “Sorry, I panicked. I didn’t know what else to say.”

  His mouth mashed into a hard line as he assessed me. “Who were ya on the phone to?”

  “That was, uh, Dad. And he’d freak if I told him I’m in the house of a hot cowboy I’ve known for a few weeks and we’re likely going to stay up most of the night screwing each other’s brains out.”

  Beau burst out laughing. “Whenever I think I’ve grown accustomed to your frankness, ya always say somethin’ to surprise me.”

  “It’s all about the shock and awe,” I admitted as I swallowed my anxiety. “That way you don’t see that I am so far out of my depth it’s not funny.”

  “That makes two of us, darlin’.” He moved toward me and kissed the top of my head.

  It was ridiculous how off balance he was able to set me with the tiniest touches.

  “Ya hungry?” He placed the box of goodies he’d brought back down onto the kitchen bench, lifting out a few items and tossing them into the fridge before turning around to lean against the cupboards. As he did, his hips thrust forward, and his gaze settled over me. The jeans he’d had on had worked their way lower down his hips, showing off his perfect V in a sliver of skin between his under-tee and the faded denim.

  “Famished,” I murmured as I fought to gain the courage I needed to do what I wanted.

  Something in my voice must have tipped him off to the fact that I wasn’t talking about food, or maybe my intentions were printed across my face in a bold typeface. His hips pushed forward a little more, and he held his arms out for me. I stepped forward as if I were going to accept his invitation, but when I was within striking distance, I reached for the buckle of his belt instead. The instant it was in my hands, I started unthreading the leather.

  “Darlin’?” he questioned.

  My response was to step into the gap between us and bring my lips to his throat while I continued to fight his belt. His hands moved to caress my hair, but I guided them back to his sides. Taking his cues from me, he clutched the wooden counter.

  When I’d released the belt, I made short work of his jeans, pushing them down to his knees together with his boxer briefs. With my breath speeding and my heart stuttering, I stepped away and glanced at the image of him clinging to the bench with his hard-on pointing straight at me. Not letting myself second-guess what I was going to do, I fell to my knees and drew the silken skin of his erection into my mouth.

  As I began to move my mouth back and forth over his length, a series of noises escaped from Beau, not quite words but more than noiseless grunts. I had no idea what I was doing really, but he seemed to be enjoying it anyway.

  After a while, I grew more daring, running the tip of his cock over my tongue before drawing in his length again. One of his hands released the hold it had on the counter and found its way into my hair. His hips moved in time with my actions, sending his cock deeper into my mouth. A few times, the motion triggered my gag reflex, but Beau just pulled away and waited for me to make a move. Each time, I took him back into my mouth and hummed.

  He gave a garbled cry that almost sounded like his watered down version of a cuss word. When he did, I glanced up at him to make sure I wasn’t doing something wrong. Our eyes locked and his burned with need and passion. It spurred me on, drawing him in until I could feel him against the back of my throat.

  The fourth time I sucked him in that deeply, he issued a “Sweet Jesus,” and tried to pull away. I realised why a second later when a gush of warm liquid spilled down my throat. All through high school people had joked about girls who spit versus those who swallowed. Part of me had always wondered which I’d choose in the moment, but right then, I didn’t have a choice.

  His knees buckled and both of his hands moved back to the counter to steady himself as his cock continued to pulse in my mouth.

  When he’d finished, I sat back on my heels, watching as Beau became a puddle of goo. It was a powerful feeling to know that I’d been the one who’d done that to him. After a moment, I moved back up his body, pulling his clothing back into place.

  “You were right,” I murmured as I slid the zipper on his jeans up.

  “Huh?” he asked, his breath still little more than desperate panting and with a small, dreamy smile plastered on his lips.

  I did up the top button on his jeans. “It’s not as much fun this way.”

  He chuckled and reached for me, pulling me against his chest. “That was, wow. And I’ll be sure to pay ya back the kindness, right when my brain comes back online.”

  I joined his laughter and wrapped my arms around him, leaning so that my weight held him in place against the counter. He rested his cheek against the top of my hair.

  “Ya know, you’ve given me so many images I never dreamed of, but that I know will be locked away up here for all of mah days,” he said after a moment.

  “Was that one of them?”

  “Oh, darlin’, your stunnin’ eyes looking up at me like that is definitely one of ’em.”

  “What are some others?” I asked as curiosity burned in me.

  “The first night we met, seeing the anger on your face when I ran into ya.”

  I laughed. “You almost made me spill my drink.”

  “You on your bike,” he continued. “The feel of ya beneath my hands as ya raced through the hills. Man, you know how to handle the curves.” His hands traced over my waist as he said the words.

  “You’re not so bad with the curves yourself,” I murmured. His soft ministrations were flaming the fires of need that were already racing through my body.

  His hand moved to caress my cheek and he guided my lips to his. If he cared about the fact I tasted
like him, he didn’t say anything. His tongue probed, tangling with my own in a dance that did nothing to lessen my desire.

  In a fast motion, he swung me around and lifted me up so my arse was on the wooden counter. Then he filled the space between my legs with his body. His other hand moved to my other cheek as his kiss grew hungrier.

  When he pulled away, he looked disappointed rather than turned on.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  He rested his forehead against mine and closed his eyes as he murmured, “How am I gonna let ya go?”

  I moved my hands to his cheeks, holding him in place. Hadn’t I asked myself the same question often enough?

  “Can’t I just keep ya?” he asked, opening his eyes and looking at me through his lashes. His expression was so innocent, so desperate, that I wanted to say yes. I wanted him to sweep me off my feet and leave my old life behind.

  Except I couldn’t. My family meant too much to me, including the extended ones linked by bonds of friendship forged in the fires Dad had endured when I was younger. For every smile Beau had claimed from me, my family owned a thousand. As much as I would miss Beau when I left, he wasn’t ingrained in every part of my life, my very being, the way they were.

  I flinched away from his words.

  “Sorry, darlin’, I know that ain’t a fair request.” He pulled away and gave me a small smile that echoed the sorrow in his words. “Not after I promised no expectations.”

  “I can’t, Beau. I wish I could, but I can’t survive without my family.” As soon as I said the words, I realised how insensitive they were. Especially considering where we were. “Oh, God, I’m yapping on about family here of all places. I’m such an arsehole. I’m sorry.”

  His fingers traced my cheek before dropping under my chin to lift my eyes back to his. “Don’t go apologizin’ for being you.”

  “Why don’t we put the groceries away and head to your bedroom?” I wrapped my legs around his waist.