Phase (Phoebe Reede: The Untold Story #1)

by Michelle Irwin

  And our time was almost up.

  I dropped my gaze to stare at my hands in my lap. For a moment, I wondered whether it would make it easier to leave him if there were some mystery left between us. Some things I didn’t know so not every piece of him would haunt me.

  The sight of his feet in my field of vision told me he was ready, but he didn’t speak to confirm it. When I lifted my gaze to find his, I expected a thousand questions on his tongue for my fallen mood, but his eyes contained the same sorrow.

  With a slow smile, he offered me his hand.

  Our first stop was the restaurant, where Beau led me around to the back door into the commercial kitchen. One of the guys with hipster beards, who had been at the bar with Beau the first night I met him, was standing over a griddle top that contained an impressive quantity of pancakes, bacon, eggs, and an assortment of other breakfast foods. To one side, a deep fryer hissed as it cooked whatever was inside.

  “Mitch, Dawson, Dawson, Mitch,” Beau said almost casually, waving his hand between us as he made his hurried introductions. It didn’t escape my focus that he’d given the fake name I’d used. For a moment, I wondered why, but then it struck me. He was trying to give me what I wanted—the piece of me separate from the rest of my life. It told me that he understood why I’d lied to him initially. That he knew about the pressure of always being “on” and wanted to save me from that. That one simple action proved that he was readily willing to offer me the one thing I’d never been able to find before in my real life—the ability to just be me. The more people who knew my name, the harder it would be to hide from who I was at home.

  “Pleasure to meet ya, Dawson.” Mitch gave me a typical hospitable smile, one that stretched across his mouth but didn’t quite reach his eyes.

  Beau released my hand and shifted his entire focus to the griddle. He moved toward it and then slid a bite-sized piece of bacon off. Once the strip was in his hand, he juggled the clearly hot food for a second or two before tossing it into his mouth.

  “Breakfast?” he asked, looking back to me.

  “Sure.” I couldn’t really argue even if I’d wanted to. He’d already grabbed two plates and was picking some prime pieces of bacon.

  “Hey, get off it!” Mitch said. “That’s for the actual payin’ guests, not layabouts fillin’ our best room in peak season.” There was a jokey undertone that made me believe he wasn’t being serious, but I still felt bad.

  Beau clapped him on the back. “You’ll manage, Mitch, ya always do.” He winked at me. “I’d be lost without Mitch and Joe takin’ care of this place.”

  Mitch chuckled. “Fixin’ all the issues you create, ya mean.”

  “Don’t believe a word he says, darlin’. He’d say anything to look like he’s the better man.”

  “Keep talkin’ like that, and I’ll be ’specting double the Christmas bonus this year.”

  Beau laughed as he offered me one of the plates he’d put together. “Let’s leave the ol’ grump to his precious cheffin’.” He indicated I should head back outside, but stopped. “Dang it, almost forgot. I’m gonna need one o’ your special baskets today, Mitch. I got me a date with a mighty pretty lady who’s madly in love with me.”

  “When’s she turning up then?” I asked, causing Mitch to laugh.

  Mitch grabbed two sets of cutlery wrapped in paper napkins and placed them on Beau’s plate. “Sure thing, boss. It’ll be ready by one.”

  “Have someone bring it up to the lake, would ya?”

  Mitch nodded. Then he saluted me with his spatula. “See ya, Dawson.”

  “Nice meeting you, Mitch.”

  Beau led me to a little picnic table near the edge of the forest that ringed the resort.

  “Your staff seem to love you,” I said as I started on the food.

  “They ain’t my staff. Not really. Mitch and Joe are shareholders. Jus’ ones who keep the place goin’.”

  There was so much I didn’t know about his life. Too much he didn’t know about mine. It was impossible to learn that much in the less-than-twenty hours we had remaining. Instead of focusing on what I didn’t know, I focused on what I did.

  “What’s your favourite thing about racing?” I asked.

  He glanced up to meet my eye. I could tell the exact moment he saw the question for what it was—a way to distract myself from the dreadful clock ticking down every second.

  “Probably the freedom. Or maybe the control.” He continued to debate the different aspects of racing that he loved. As he answered my question with an obvious passion, it was amazing how similar his responses were to my own. We were so different, and yet so alike all at the same time. It was easy to see myself sitting with him at the dining room table as Mum and Dad did, talking about our day and sharing affectionate touches.

  After we finished breakfast, he led me down to the lake and onto the pier. There sat a rickety old boat that looked like it could go under with the slightest addition of weight.

  “All right now darlin’, climb on in,” he insisted.

  “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea. It doesn’t look seaworthy.”

  He chuckled and nodded toward the crystal-blue lake. “That ain’t hardly the sea.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “What’s a matter? Ya skeered?” he asked with a smirk on his face.

  “Are you challenging me, cowboy?”

  “Would it get ya in that there boat?”

  I moved over to the boat and nudged it with my foot. It rocked precariously from side to side, looking like it was about to capsize. “I’m not sure it’s—”

  Beau picked me up around the waist and carried me onto the boat. Water splashed over the side, and the wood groaned under our combined weight.

  “Beau!” I squealed as I resisted the action. “We’re gonna go under.”

  “We will if ya don’t stop fightin’.” The amusement was clear in his tone.

  “Put me down, and I’ll stop fighting.”

  He held me close as I found my feet. “Is that better?”

  “Mmm.” I wasn’t convinced.

  “Take a step over the seat.”

  While he held my hand to keep me steady, I followed his instructions. The boat rocked again as he cast off the rope securing it to the pier and then followed me over the seat. Each new pitch of the boat drew a fresh squeal of laughter from me.

  “I got ya,” Beau said, letting go of me to find his way to the seat. Once he was sitting, he grabbed my hips, spun me around, and guided me onto his lap. “See, that ain’t so bad, is it?”

  Burying my head against his neck, I shook my head. It was just another adventure after all—one that left me alone with Beau.

  “It ain’t so bad at all.” He picked up the oars and started rowing out onto the lake while I clung to him.

  THE LITTLE WOODEN rowboat spun in a lazy circle on the water. It wasn’t so fast that I felt sick lying on the floor of the boat, but there was a discernible spinning motion as I stared up at the cloudless blue sky.

  Under my back, the blanket Beau had laid out stopped me from getting splinters and offered at least a little cushioning. The U-shape of the hull kept my body pressed firmly against Beau’s. The seat was just a little too close for us to stretch out fully, the gap underneath it a little too small for both our legs to stretch through, so Beau had taken the space and I curled my legs over his hips.

  “What are ya thinkin’, darlin’?” he asked.

  I shifted my gaze from the sky above to his face. I’d become so accustomed to him watching me, it didn’t even surprise me when it became clear he’d been doing so again. It was odd how his stare didn’t bother me as much as so many others’ had. “I’m just thinking how great this trip has been.”

  He shifted position so he was more on his side—his hand tickling over my stomach—and the boat rocked wildly with his motion.

  “Watch it!” I grabbed blindly for the top of the boat, running my hand over the old wood and gai
ning a splinter through my finger as a reward. “Fuck!”

  Beau moved again, this time to grab hold of my hand. The shard of wood was a decent length. “Let me,” he murmured. Reaching out, he took my finger between his and lifted it to his lips. He sucked at my finger, and all pain from the splinter was forgotten as I got lost in the perfection of his touch.

  “Oh, God!” I groaned as the sensation tugged at the pit of my stomach and travelled all the way down to my pussy.

  When his lips left my fingertip, I sighed at the loss of contact. He touched his tongue to his finger, leaving the splinter on the pad. “Ya have to watch yourself ’round old wood,” he said. “Ya can’t go grabbin’ ’round blindly.”

  “What about new wood?” I asked, reaching my hand down to stroke his hip. With his hard-on pressing against me, I couldn’t resist the joke.

  He chuckled. “Ya shouldn’t go grabbin’ ’round blindly there either. Someone could get hurt.”

  “So no more grabbing wood?” I pouted as I teased.

  “I didn’t say that. Ya just need to do it with lots and lots of care.”

  “Hmm, like this?” I ran my hand over his arse and around his hip.

  “Mmm, just like that,” he mumbled as he rolled to allow me the space I needed. The motion sent the boat rocking again, and my hand instinctively grabbed for the nearest thing to hold on to. “Or not,” he squeaked as I squeezed.

  “It’s not my fault you keep rocking the boat.”

  He chuckled before deliberately rocking the boat again. I closed my eyes and grabbed on to his shoulders.

  “What’re ya ’fraid of, darlin’?”

  There were so many ways I could have answered him, but instead, I just let a smile dance on my lips.

  He grinned in response. A dangerous sort of smile—one that hinted at mischief. A second later, he rolled onto his knees with his legs straddling my body. The action made the boat rock harder than ever.

  “Beau!” I screamed as I grabbed his hips. “You’re going to capsize us.”

  Stilling his movements, he leaned forward to press his lips against mine. Then he reached up to hold the sides of the boat and rocked it again.

  “Stop!” I squealed through my laughter.

  “You’re an odd one, li’l miss.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “White-water rafting down the Coloradah . . . easy. A rowboat on a perfectly still lake with me—”

  “Terrifying,” I finished for him, knowing he could feel the truth in the word.

  “’Cause?” He sat back onto the seat before reaching down to help me up.

  “Because . . .” I sighed, knowing he’d guess what I was going to say. “Expect—”

  “—tations,” he finished the word at the same time I did.

  “Exactly.”

  He sighed.

  “That water looks inviting,” I said to break the tension settling over the boat.

  With a chuckle, Beau shook his head. “Ya really are an enigma. Ya don’t want me to capsize the boat accidentally, but ya want in the water.”

  After standing, carefully so that I didn’t rock the boat, I tugged my shirt off over my head. Then I reached down and grabbed the bottle of sunscreen from beneath the seat and placed it on his open hand. “What can I say?” I shrugged. “I like things done on my terms.”

  He spun sideways on the seat to make room for me to sit in front of him. “I’m startin’ a see that.”

  Even as the words left him, he rubbed the cream into my shoulders. My eyes sank closed as he massaged me, his fingers working the muscles as he went. The feel of his fingertips was divine. Moans of delight slipped from me.

  He issued a matching one, and his hands slipped from my shoulders to play over the top of my bikini. I tipped my head back against his chest as his lips found the spot just below my ear.

  With a slight twist of my head, I captured his lips with my own. His mouth opened and his tongue met mine readily. I twisted around to hold him, but the movement sent the boat rocking. It was a precarious balance between wanting more and needing to stay in control.

  Somehow it seemed like the perfect metaphor for our relationship.

  My mind raced and my mood plummeted. Although I tried to ignore it, it was impossible to hide from my own mind and the creeping doubt that lingered within. I needed to shake it off or our last few hours would be miserable.

  I stood and tugged off my shorts. “I think it’s time to jump right in.”

  His gaze roamed my bikini-clad body. “I was thinkin’ the same thang,” he murmured. At first, I thought he was referring to things between us, but then he tugged off his shirt, winked at me, and jumped into the water.

  The moment his feet left the boat, it rocked so wildly from side to side that my footing started to slip. Terrified of falling and getting splinters in my arse, I took a step and leaped into the water too.

  Almost the instant my head broke the surface, Beau was there treading water beside me. He reached for me and crashed his lips to mine. Between the heat of the sun, the chill in the water, and the feeling of his body against mine, I was in sensory overload. His hands crept under the bikini cords on my back.

  The only other people on the lake were close in to shore—too far away to make out details without a pair of binoculars or a telephoto lens.

  “You’re not worried about getting caught by the paparazzi out here?” I asked when his lips moved down the column of my throat while we both treaded water.

  He grinned. “They ain’t allowed nowhere near here. It’s private property for miles.”

  “But what if your neighbours let them onto their properties?”

  He smiled and shook his head. “Won’t happen.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  His lips found my skin again. “My private property,” he mumbled between kisses.

  “Oh.”

  For a while, we swam and splashed together, but as I grew tired, I saw the flaw in the plan.

  “Beau, how do we get back in the boat?”

  “Li’l late to worry ’bout that now, ain’t it?”

  “I’m serious. I don’t think I can swim back to shore.”

  He chuckled and swam a lazy loop to the back of the boat. Then, clutching a rubber handle on the side, launched himself out of the water far enough to grab the blanket from inside and tugged it to rest over the side. Then he took a deep breath and ducked under the water, surfacing on the other side a few seconds later.

  “Well, come on then.” He nodded toward the boat.

  “If I try and get in here, I’m going to capsize the boat.”

  “D’ya trust me?”

  Despite it only being a few weeks since I’d met him, I did. I swum a little closer to the boat.

  “How exactly do you expect me to get in?”

  His laughter rang out between us. “Ya just grab on and pull yourself right in.”

  I grabbed the side of the boat, realising he must have put the blanket where he did so that I wouldn’t get splinters. Not wanting to look like an idiot, I used all my upper-body strength to haul myself out of the water.

  With some effort, I got my chest over the side and rested on my belly, precariously balanced on the side of the boat. Then I was stuck. I couldn’t go back without falling into the water, and I didn’t want to push myself forward any further or I’d likely topple over and land on my head in the bottom of the boat. My arms shook with the effort of holding myself out of the water.

  I wiggled my hips forward a tiny bit, an inch at a time so I didn’t lose my balance until I could swing my legs around. Grunting and groaning from the effort, I managed to spin around enough that I could get one knee over the side.

  Then I slipped. I was damned thankful for the blanket over the side as I toppled and only half controlled my slide to the bottom of the boat.

  When I looked over to Beau, he’d lost it. His laughter shook his body and rocked the boat.

  “Stop it!” I complai
ned although the indignation was lessened by my own laughter.

  “That had all the grace of a horse tryin’ a climb a ladder.”

  Refusing to move in case I rocked the boat too much, I crossed my arms and glared at him. “I’d like to see you do better.”

  “Stay over there, and I will. The boat’ll still rock. Are ya settled?”

  Before I’d even answered his question, he put both his hands on the side of the boat and launched himself over the side in a graceful motion. The boat rocked wildly, and he howled with laughter as I tried to find a hold.

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “Arse.”

  Beau settled above me and grinned down at me. The water that soaked his hair ran in rivulets down his face, dripping onto me.

  I squealed at the cold and turned my face away from the water, but Beau didn’t relent. He teased me with the droplets while I writhed beneath him. His laughter echoed with mine as he shook his wet hair out like a dog.

  “Stop, Beau, stop!” I giggled again. “You’re getting me all wet.”

  The moment the words slipped from me, his mouth was on mine and his hands moved over my body. Before we could take it too far, Beau sighed. “We best be heading back in.”

  THE LUNCH spread Mitch and the kitchen staff had packed for Beau was nothing short of gourmet. Cheese, fruit, and water crackers for starters, a bottle of red wine for Beau, and sweet tea for me—and they weren’t lying about the sweet part.

  Following that was fresh bread rolls, salad, and pulled pork. Then for dessert, there was a huge slice of chocolate mud cake.

  By the time I’d made it through the first two courses, I didn’t have room left for any more. But when Beau coaxed the cake into me mouthful by delicious mouthful—interrupted by regular, sweet, chocolate-and-wine tasting kisses—it was hard to refuse.

  “It’s a good thing I wasn’t with you for my whole trip,” I told him after the last morsel had disappeared. “Or I would have put on at least ten kilos.”

  “Darlin’ ya could gain that and then some and still turn me on,” he replied. “You’re the perfect woman for me, what with the bike handlin’, racin’, and the way you shift my gears.” He gave me a light squeeze as he kissed the top of my head.