BEASTLY
#3
MICHELLE IRWIN
COPYRIGHT
Copyright © 2017 by Michelle Irwin
First Edition February 2017
Published in Australia
Print ISBN: 978-0-9954228-1-0 and 978-1539977698
Cover Artist: Pink Ink Design
Cover content used for illustrative purposes only, and any person depicted is a model.
Editing by: Hot Tree Editing
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to an actual person, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental. The following story is set in the USA and therefore has been written in US English. The spelling and usage reflect that.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and for all other inquiries, contact:
Michelle Irwin P O Box 671 MORAYFIELD QLD 4506 AUSTRALIA
www.michelle-irwin.com
[email protected]
CHAPTER ONE: BACK TO THE START
CHAPTER TWO: THE FUTURE IS CLEAR
CHAPTER THREE: SHE LOVES ME NOT
CHAPTER FOUR: IN IT TO WIN IT
CHAPTER FIVE: NEW ARRIVAL
CHAPTER SIX: SUSPECT
CHAPTER SEVEN: INTERVIEW WITH A GHOST
CHAPTER EIGHT: APARTMENT BLOCK BLUES
CHAPTER NINE: TOUR OF DUTY
CHAPTER TEN: DINNER FOR THREE
CHAPTER ELEVEN: ANNOUNCEMENT
CHAPTER TWELVE: RACE YA
CHAPTER THIRTEEN: TABLOID FODDER
CHAPTER FOURTEEN: CUSTODY ISSUES
CHAPTER FIFTEEN: COVERT
CHAPTER SIXTEEN: RESCUE PARTY
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: CHAIN OF COMMAND
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: NOT AT LIBERTY
CHAPTER NINETEEN: HOME TOWN ADVANTAGE
CHAPTER TWENTY: ANGEL ON MY SIDE
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: SEND ME AN ANGEL
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: SCENE OF THE CRIME
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: TOUCH
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: CALL HOME
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE: LOST HOPE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX: THE CALL
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN: REWARDIN’
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT: PUBLICITY NIGHTMARE
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE: SIREN CALL
CHAPTER THIRTY: LOUD AND CLEAR
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE: CAUTION
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO: PSYCH
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE: WRECKED
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR: FALLOUT
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE: LEAVIN’ ME
ALSO BY MICHELLE IRWIN
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
PAPERWORK WAS GONNA be the dang death of me.
As if it wasn’t enough to grieve the death of a loved one, the universe seemed content to drown me under an ocean of forms, phone calls, and lawyers on top of my agony. After my foster sister, Abby’s, death, I’d been lost.
Adrift.
At least until Phoebe turned up again. She’d come to rescue me. Phoebe Reede: my life preserver in that ocean. The one person who could provide any relief from the soul-achin’ grief of losing Abby, and the never-endin’ red tape that had accompanied her passin’.
Openin’ one eye, I checked that Phoebe was still there—even though I could feel the warmth beneath my arms. What I saw was glorious. Her rich mahogany hair was splayed over my pillows, tickling my cheek as I wrapped myself tighter around her. I still couldn’t believe my luck. Couldn’t believe she’d returned to me despite all the issues we’d faced.
I closed my eyes as the last eight months washed over me. She’d spun into my life like a whirlwind on day one. A swirl of colors I was helpless to ignore. She’d sent stars across my eyes, and I wanted nothin’ more than to drown in her seafoam eyes. In fact, she had me so wound up I was fixin’ to marry her just so I could keep her forever.
After she went home though, everythin’ went wrong. The constant rotation of missed opportunities, crossin’ time zones, and lack of time to properly talk, then her friend, Max, sent us veerin’ off course when he’d lied and said he was Phoebe’s boyfriend. He’d talked about the free-spirted girl I knew and loved bein’ free with everythin’ else too—including her love life. I was sorely tempted to ignore him, until he described a feature that he couldn’t’ve known about without seein’ her naked.
A heart-shaped birthmark just below her bikini line.
Hearing him describe that little mark—one I had traced with my tongue and fingers—was all the proof I needed. I shoulda forced the issue, asked Phoebe plainly whether there was any truth in Max’s words, but I didn’t. That was my mistake.
Brokenhearted and angry, I’d offered Cass, who was pregnant and alone, what seemed like the most logical solution at the time—an engagement ring. We’d always been comfortable together, and our marriage would at least give her baby a stable home. It was a small consolation, but it was somethin’.
I’d tried to push Phoebe out of my mind, tried to find a new peace, but I couldn’t.
Before I could crumble enough to call her and demand answers, rumors started. An overseas investor that had been sniffin’ around the strugglin’ stock car teams, tryin’ to find a car and team to lease, was officially investing in Richards Racing.
It wasn’t surprising that the owner of Richards Racing, Dale Richards, had leapt at the chance of financial rescue. Between my mind bein’ on other things, and the other driver, Cash, not havin’ his head screwed on right for the second half of the year, Richards Racing was sinking fast. And his brother-in-law, Bee, had forced Dale into the decision by withdrawin’ half of his share in the company due to some legal issue.
Bein’ privy to the inner workings meant I found out the name of the investor long before everyone else. The team was Emmanuel Racing. The owner: Declan Reede.
Phoebe’s daddy.
The instant I heard the name, I thought I knew what was happening, that she was flashin’ her daddy’s cash to prove some point. If only I’d known the truth. How much heartache could we have saved each other?
When Phoebe and her friend, Angel, had turned up to stay in the Lake Retreat, I considered tossin’ them out, but they were payin’ guests and not lookin’ for trouble. I watched from a distance as they played and had fun.
Everythin’ came to a head at one of the Lake Retreat’s regular bonfires just a few nights earlier. Phoebe broke down in my arms—and I learned not only that she didn’t have a boyfriend back home but that she’d come to the States to be with me. Despite the obvious call we had to each other, she wanted to be with someone else. Xavier. The guy whose arms I’d driven her into with my stupid choices and rash decisions.
That mighta been it for Phoebe and me, if it weren’t for . . .
Abby.
My foster sister, and last remainin’ family. She’d been bedridden and unresponsive for years, but over the last few months, things had slipped downhill fast. Her body was breakin’ down, and she’d been sufferin’ strokes and seizures. As badly as the selfish parts of me had wanted her to stay—without her, I had no roots—I wanted her to go so she could finally be at peace. ’Round Christmas, the doctors said she had weeks at best.
Maybe days.
The night I held Phoebe again as the truths slipped from us, was also the night Abby’s situation grew grim. The prediction of days becam
e hours and I couldn’t risk leaving her side, not for my own selfish desire to spend time with Phoebe. Even if I’d been willin’ to try, what could I have asked of the girl I loved who said she didn’t love me in return? It wasn’t fair of me to beg her to stay, even though I needed her more than I could put into words.
I WAS ready to give up, to try to be content to watch her from a distance where we could at least try to just be friends now that the misinformation was behind us. Cass wouldn’t have none of it though.
“Don’t you be a fool, Beauregard Miller,” she’d said while she sat at my sister’s bedside with me. “Don’t you let her go.”
She said those words just after we called off our engagement, hours before Abby slipped away.
After watchin’ my sister pass, I lost it.
The only way I could cope was by divin’ into a bottle of Fireball. I fell so hard that I didn’t want to see or speak to anyone. At least until Phoebe returned. When Joe called to tell me she’d checked back in and was askin’ about me, I had no choice but to invite her to my house. No choice but to drown in her for as long as she’d let me.
Which wasn’t nearly long enough.
Too soon, his name came up again, but this time, I noticed somethin’ new when she talked about him. Somethin’ that gave me hope. A slight twist of her cheek that pulled her lips downward when she said we couldn’t be together. An involuntary twitch when she said she wanted him. I saw them for what they were. Tells. And they were tellin’ me the same thing Cass had.
Don’t give up.
Fight for her.
By the time I had her in my arms on the rowboat out on the lake, I couldn’t take no for an answer. Not when she didn’t want him like she wanted me. I wouldn’t push, but I wouldn’t walk away when her eyes begged me not to. When she was near me, she drew me to her with her actions, even as she tried to push me away with her words.
For a few days, we continued the slow dance where she wouldn’t tell me yes, but never told me no either. And just hours earlier, my patience had paid off.
Although she’d scared me almost to death with the way she’d turned up on my doorstep—half-dressed and almost frozen—one look at her face told me everythin’ I needed to know.
She’d come back to me. She was finally ready to admit the way she really felt.
We’d spent the night wrapped in one another—the way we shoulda been from the start of her trip.
How could I ever have been so stupid to think there were others?
In some ways, it was hard not to feel jealousy over her. She was so danged beautiful, but it was more than that. She was outgoin’ and friendly with everyone. There was an openness that was impossible to fake.
With the phone calls home that all ended in I love yous, it was easy to let my mind race with the worst of my fears. Plus, there were the strange disappearances durin’ our Skype dates and times she wasn’t available. So many things that had fueled my insecurity. The guy who’d come to her bedroom door to set up a date, the nights out dancin’ with friends, the long days when I couldn’t speak to her. It’d been exactly as she’d said it would be before she left without a good-bye—jealousy and distance had driven us apart.
But no more.
“Beau,” she whispered, making it clear she was awake. I was more than willin’ to pretend I wasn’t. Bein’ awake meant sayin’ good-bye.
Burying my head deeper in her hair, I found her skin with my lips. At her throat, I whispered her name like a prayer between kisses. She was my angel. My savin’ grace.
And she was due to leave again in just a few hours.
I wondered whether maybe I could convince her to blow off her responsibilities and stay in bed comfortin’ me instead.
She spun in my hold. “I have to go back home today.”
“Nope. You’re gonna stay here. With me.”
When my argument drew a laugh, I knew it was a lost cause. Despite my attempts to win her around, she wouldn’t have none of it. Much as I didn’t want her to go, her refusal to stay was part of the reason I felt the way I did about her. She was dedicated. Passionate. Carin’. She wouldn’t shirk her duties for her own desires.
Reluctantly, I allowed her to go, but only after drawin’ a promise she’d return to me.
She didn’t say she loved me, but I didn’t ask her to. I already worried we were pushin’ things too fast. Would the reality of what happened sink in as soon as she drove away? Part of me wondered whether she’d already spoken to Xavier, or whether I’d maybe taken a woman to my bed who was still involved with another man. The questions burned, but they’d be things we could discuss when we had more time at our disposal.
Tomorrow.
It was a promise that not everyone got, but one she’d given me.
For the rest of the mornin’, I watched Phoebe, absorbin’ every detail I could. She raised a brow at me as I “helped” while she slipped into her button-up top and tight-fittin’ black skirt—helpin’ undo the buttons and ensurin’ it fit her right by smoothin’ my hands over her sides. She grinned at me in the mirror as I watched her applyin’ her makeup. She laughed at the face I made when I watched her use what appeared to be a torture device to set her hair into long, loose curls.
My heart ached as I walked her to her car to say good-bye.
After loading her bags into the trunk, I made my way ’round to the driver door and pinned her against it. My lips found hers, and I showed her with my kiss how much I would miss her. Kissin’ her was one thing I would never get sick of. She tasted sweet, like summer sunshine and lollipops, as if her personality flavored her lips.
It was midmornin’, and we were in full view of anyone who wanted to look, but I didn’t care. If she’d asked me to, I woulda climbed onto the roof of her car and shouted to the heavens that she was mine.
“Beau, people are watching,” she murmured against my lips.
“That don’t matter to me,” I said as I pulled away. Unwillin’ to break our connection, I traced my hand over her cheek and into her hair. Following a curl down to her shoulder, I twisted it around my finger.
“But the rumors. They’ll say you’re uncaring and moving on too soon after leaving your fiancée. They’ll say grief has driven you mad.” The smile she gave proved it didn’t really matter to her either. Her protests were empty; made for my benefit and not hers.
“If they have half a brain, they’ll say I’m in love. And they ain’t gonna be wrong.” I kissed her lips again, pressing her against the car.
She wrapped her arms around my neck and returned my kiss with a sweet one of her own, dragging her lips over mine before suckin’ my bottom lip between her teeth.
“I’ve gotta go,” she said as she pulled away.
“But ya are comin’ back, ain’t ya?” I raised a brow as I reminded her of her promise.
“Now that I know the truth, I’ll always find my way back to you.”
I pulled her tight against me again and closed my eyes to cement the feelin’ of her in my arms. This was the good-bye we should have had seven months earlier when she left to go back home. Only this time, she would be comin’ back to me in a little over twenty-four hours, and we’d have a couple of days alone together before the first race of the season.
“Are you going to be okay?” she asked.
With a grin, I nodded. “Mitch and Joe are here. They’ll keep an eye on me.”
“And Cassidee too,” she said with a smile.
It seemed odd that she’d be happy about that. In my experience, most women wanted their men kept far away from other women—especially ones they used to date. “That don’t make ya jealous?”
She shook her head. “I’m glad you can be friends with her. She’ll need one in the coming months.”
Phoebe’s words reminded me why I fell in love with her in the first place. She wasn’t just beautiful and smart, she was warm and caring. Despite the inadvertent role Cass had played in keepin’ us apart, Phoebe was willing to accept a friendshi
p with her without reserve. A lump grew in my throat as tears pricked my eyes.
“Hurry back, won’t ya?”
“Of course.” She squeezed her arms tighter around my waist before stepping away.
When I reluctantly let go, she climbed into her car and pulled away. I pressed my hands to my heart as I watched her drive away—tryin’ to stop it from flyin’ away after her like it had wanted to ever since the first time she rode away from me in Sacramento.
The last thing I saw of her was a wave of her hand as she turned up the driveway.
IT WAS ONLY when Phoebe’s car was well and truly out of sight that reality came crashin’ down on me. It’d be another day of lawyers and phone calls, workin’ on rollin’ part of Abby’s estate into a trust and tidyin’ away the details of the rest. I dropped my gaze to the ground ahead of me and wondered how I would get through the next twenty-four hours.
Realistically there was still so much Phoebe and I needed to talk about. We’d barely scratched the surface of our apologies or gettin’ to know one another.
I sighed as I wondered whether we’d be as perfect together as the night we’d just shared suggested. The last few months had seen us fightin’ and barely amicable, a complete contrast to how we’d been together during her vacation. What if that was the best we got and the rest was downhill? Could a handful of days really serve as an indicator of someone’s true personality?
Regardless, I wanted to explore it further. And explore her more too.
The crunch of snow alerted me to someone else nearby. I glanced up to see Cass grinnin’ like a bobcat.
“Did I just see that, or was it a figment of my imagination?”
“Heh, hey, Cass.”
“Don’t ya go hey, Cass-in’ me.” She smiled as she closed the distance between us. “Did I just see Mr. Values-My-Private-Life-Over-Everythin’-Else smoochin’ in the parkin’ lot with a certain li’l miss?”
Heat rose in my cheeks and the tips of my ears burned despite the cold. The whole time Cass and I were together, we were never big on puttin’ our relationship on display. Least I wasn’t. I didn’t know what to say; I could hardly deny it, but neither did I want to discuss it in detail.
Beastly (Phoebe Reede: The Untold Story #3) Page 1