I took it willingly, glad to have a friendly face at work. “Phoebe.”
“Now I ain’t complaining, because you can knock on my door anytime, but is there something you wanted?”
“Yeah, I hear you’ve got a fixer-upper Honda.”
His brow furrowed. “You mean the ’94?”
“That’s the one. I called a few days ago to arrange to check it out. It is still available, isn’t it?”
His lips curled up into a snarl as confusion warred with his easy smile. “Yeah. No one wants it because the engine’s blown. I keep telling Bee I could fix it, but he doesn’t wanna waste the money on parts when the bike ain’t worth that much.”
“Bee?”
“My stepdad. This is his business.” He pointed toward the multi-bay building I’d had to walk past on my way down to the house. “He’s out at the moment, but I can show you the bike if you’re interested. It, uh, it might cost a bit in labour to repair though. The last owners weren’t kind.”
“I’m not afraid of getting my hands dirty.”
“It’s a big job.”
I shrugged. “Nothing more than I’ve done before.”
“You’re fixing to fix it up yourself?” His tone betrayed his scepticism.
A tiny grin crossed my lips at his incredulity. “Yeah. Why not?”
He stared at me with his jaw hanging open.
“It’s really not that big of a deal,” I said, embarrassed by the admiration slowly growing in his eyes.
“I just can’t help thinking you could, well, I mean, you might just be the perfect woman. And how it’s a shame.”
“What’s a shame?”
“That you’re way out of my league.” The words were rushed and smashed together. He hung his head as soon as they were out.
I laughed. “I’m really not.”
His blush crept back over his cheeks again.
“What?” I asked as the unusual feeling of self-consciousness slipped over me.
“It’s just that you’re so beautiful, and I’m so… so me.”
It was my turn to blush. His sweet assertions were different to the usual catcalls, and far more like…
I stopped the thought before it could progress. There was only one way it would end—with the name that would burn my heart like a brand the instant it came into my mind.
The reminder of Beau’s sweet—if deceitful—seduction was enough to make me put a stop to Xavier’s compliments. “I’m really flattered, and under different circumstances things might be different. But I’m not looking for anything romantic right now. Just a bike.”
He was scarlet when I looked back at him. “Of course.” I could see him mentally kicking himself over something he’d done or said—I knew the feeling. “I’ll just go get the keys to the shed.”
He disappeared back into the house, leaving the door open behind him. I wasn’t sure if it was an invitation or not, but I stood on the patio and waited anyway.
As I did, I wondered why I couldn’t let go of the one who’d broken my heart. Why had Xavier’s stammered compliment made my mind go straight to him? Was it just that the wounds were still so raw? Or was I doomed to long for something I could never have for the rest of my life?
The thoughts raced each other and I stepped back away from the light coming from Xavier’s house, needing to surround myself in darkness. I wrapped my arms around myself and ambled back into the night while I waited for Xavier to return. I’d taken half a dozen steps before a huge bang rattled the fence, causing me to leap from my skin. A second later, the aggravated barking of the two dogs on the other side pierced the silence.
Holy shit! My heart pounded against my ribs from the scare, in much the same way the dogs kept smashing against the fence.
In a brief lull in the racket I heard a quiet laugh, and spun to see Xavier watching me with clear amusement on his face.
“Did Bonnie and Clyde give you a scare?” he asked as he closed the distance between us.
I gave a nervous chuckle. “A little. I guess I wasn’t expecting them.”
“They’re very protective, but teddy bears really. If you’re with me, you’ll be fine.” He walked to the gate and unlocked the padlock holding the chain in place. “Just don’t go showing them no fear.”
Because of the crazy schedules in our house, we’d never had dogs, or pets of any sort really, so I was a little unsure what to expect. Swallowing down my nerves, at least as much as I could, I followed him through the fence.
The two huge Rottweilers bounded up to Xavier, who patted them each on the head as though their salivating mouths filled with what looked like inch-long teeth didn’t bother him in the least. As he lavished his attention on each dog in turn, the tiny stubs where their tails should have been waggled with an impossible speed. Huge pink tongues hung from their mouths as they panted furiously in greeting.
After a moment, one of them got bored with Xavier and turned their attention to me. An instant later, I had a giant skull pressed hard against my stomach. The pressure caused every muscle in my body to lock into place. A whimper left me as I thought how easily the beast could rip through my skin and drag my innards across the yard like sausages.
“Clyde, get out of it,” Xavier shouted. His voice was stern, commanding, and the dog instantly retreated.
I let out a shaky breath as I begged my knees not to collapse underneath me.
“Sorry, I didn’t realize you were afraid of dogs.”
“I’m not afraid… I just haven’t had much experience. Especially not with ones the size of a small horse.”
He offered me his hand. “It’s okay, I’ll keep you safe from the monsters,” he teased.
“And they say chivalry is dead,” I quipped back as I buried my hands in my pockets, not wanting to give him the wrong idea.
With a frown, he glanced at his hand and shoved it into his own pocket. He led me across the yard littered with cars in various stages of disrepair, including a few that were beyond repair. A smash repairer and wrecking yard was nothing new to me, so I barely blinked as I walked past them. There were a few car shells that would have drawn a tear from my Uncle Flynn if he’d seen them. He hated seeing old classics left to rot.
“The bike’s in the back here.” Even as Xavier spoke, light flooded the huge workshop, accompanied by the hum of the fluorescents.
Within an hour I’d inspected the bike, agreed on a price, and Xavier had even offered to take it to work on his truck. By the time we parted, I’d promised that he could help me with the repairs.
After the shitty start to my new life, it was nice to end the day with a new ride, a new friend, and the potential for a not altogether crappy year.
WHEN I WOKE up the following morning, all I wanted to do was to go into the workshop at Richards Racing and get started on my bike. Instead, I had to stay clean and get ready for the series of appointments I’d booked for hair and make-up so that I could be primped and pressed for the event that was due to start a little after six. Based on what had gone down the day before, it was going to be a lot of effort for what would no doubt prove to be a long and shitty night.
I really didn’t feel like heading out. Out was where Beau was. Out was seeing his fiancée again. Closing my eyes, I drew in a breath and ignored the niggle of self-doubt and desire to run away from it all.
After sitting in the chair for almost two hours, my make-up was impeccable and my hair was set into a fine French roll decorated with a diamante comb. I spent another hour travelling back to my apartment. When I unzipped the garment bag, laughter rang from me. Hanging from the front of the dress, in a clear plastic bag, was a tiara. Attached to the front of the bag was a note from Angel.
Keep your chin up so your tiara doesn’t fall off. You’re a princess in that dress. Remember that, rock it, and make him regret what he let go when the photos come out.
I traced my finger over the tiara. It looked like I was going as a literal interpretation of what the team had called me. S
omething in Angel’s note resonated with me. She’d always made me claim the names people had called us. To take words like slut and whore and make them our words for each other so they couldn’t hurt anymore.
Now, it shouldn’t be any different. If the team wanted a princess, I’d give them a fucking princess. I opened the bag and ran my fingers over the tiara. Set in the middle of the peak was a sapphire—or probably coloured glass designed to look like a sapphire—that made the piece a perfect accessory for the dress.
Wearing only my panties—the dress I had allowed no room for a bra—I moved to the mirror to fix the tiara into my hair. I was thankful I’d had it styled like I did because the tiara sat perfectly over the loose curls spilling out the top of the French roll.
When I was satisfied the hair piece wasn’t going anywhere, I wiggled into my dress. It was as beautiful as when I’d tried it on in the store. More, because of the complementary make-up, glitter, and stick-on gemstones around my eyes and over my cheeks. The blues and silvers in the stylized make-up mask matched the shades in the dress and made my turquoise eyes pop.
I had a new spring in my step as I climbed into my hire car. It was amazing how revitalising a new dress, some make-up, and a note from home could be. I felt like a new person—or at least I felt almost ready to face the night ahead.
It was only when I pulled up at the valet station that I stopped and allowed myself to mentally prepare for the evening. I’d pushed it all off over and over. Each time my mind had threatened me with images of Beau and his fiancée, I’d rebelled and thought of home, or going for a ride on my bike, or any damned other thing besides my heartbreak and the guy who’d caused it. After letting the heartache wash over me for a moment, I curled my fingers around the steering wheel and sucked it up.
By the time I stopped the car, I was ready to plant a smile on my face and schmooze with the sponsors. So long as Beau worked the opposite side of the room from me, I was sure I could make it through. As I climbed from the car, I grabbed the finishing touch to my costume—a large set of white, sheer fairy wings. Running each loop of elastic over my arms, I settled them into place as the valet drove away in my car. Ignoring the chill in the air while nervous energy raced through me, I tossed my coat over my arm. I wasn’t able to wear it while I had the wings on, but I was certain I’d need it before the night was through.
When I entered the function and crossed the room, I allowed my gaze to scan the crowd, searching for the one thing I should have been avoiding. Beau. It was something I’d promised myself I wouldn’t do, and yet I couldn’t help it.
I spotted him almost instantly, dressed as an outlaw cowboy—wide hat, black mask to cover his wrongdoings, and a sinful smile that could melt almost any heart. At least, it had done mine.
Although the costume itself could’ve come off looking camp, on him it worked. The sight was almost enough to buckle my knees. The white silk shirt, unbuttoned halfway down his chest, leaving the muscles he usually hid beneath his plaid shirts on display. Memories of my hands running over those muscles while we moved together rushed through me and my body heated. My cheeks burned. I was certain the blush would melt the glue on the back of the cosmetic rhinestones.
Beneath the cowboy hat on his head, covering almost half his face, was a black mask. With the contrast of the dark mask against his bright eyes, there was nothing that could hide the intensity of his stare. Especially when he turned it on me. I didn’t miss the way his eyes scanned over my body. Or the way his lips curled upward for a split second before falling once more as he turned away.
Of course, the instant he broke away from my gaze, I caught sight of her.
Cassidee.
Her honey-blonde hair was tugged high into an updo. Even her fringe had been pulled away from her face. The smile on her lips was serene—which I understood given the protective placement of Beau’s hand on her lower back. Her yellow floor-length dress hugged her prominent bump before falling gracefully to the ground. With the ruffles on her dress and white gloves, I assumed she must have been dressed like Belle from Beauty and the Beast.
Fitting, I thought, as I stared at the man at her side. He might not have appeared outwardly hideous—the opposite was true—but what he’d done to both me and her was as beastly an action as I could imagine.
My gaze trailed over Beau’s “beauty” again. The bright yellow made her pregnancy glow more pronounced. She was like the second coming. The epitome of her costume. The beauty.
Before I’d left my apartment, I’d been determined to be the princess they all thought I was. Standing in front of Cassidee, I felt my confidence slip. She was the royalty in his life—I had been just a temporary usurper.
Dale came up to my side and welcomed me to the party before parading me around the room. I tried to concentrate on the people I was being introduced to, and on performing my duties as a pretty face for the sponsors to fawn over, but my eyes kept being drawn to the pair on the opposite side of the room.
Cassidee appeared completely at ease and in her element at his side. I wanted to hate her. So badly. Every fibre of me wanted to scream at her, to call her names and find every flaw she had, but I couldn’t. She hadn’t done anything wrong. She wasn’t the other woman.
I was.
Tears pricked my eyes as I stared at the pair, and yet I couldn’t look away—not even to focus on the conversation of the group around me. Together, Beau and Cassidee shone like a beacon. Only instead of providing light to the room, they pulled it all toward them before radiating it outward with their union. Beau’s gentle touch guided her around the room as he introduced her to the sponsors and VIPs.
The mask on Beau’s face served to remind me of one fact—he was the important one. I needed to rely on my “pretty face” to get attention and a modicum of respect; he got it all just for being him. And Cassidee was granted the same esteem for being at his side.
A waiter passed near me and I plucked a glass of bubbly from his tray. Even though I didn’t normally drink, I needed something tonight. There was no way I was going to get through a night of rubbing shoulders and hobnobbing while in the same room as the happy couple without it.
Watching his gentle touches, and the tender way he moved around her, I wanted to make a scene. To make him suffer at least a little of the pain I was going through. If only I could walk up to the sponsors he was talking with and tell them he was a liar. That he’d knocked up Cassidee within days of sweet talking me. That he’d convinced me he was saving himself for marriage even while he was screwing her on the side.
The thought stopped me dead.
While he was screwing me on the side.
After all, they were the ones that had been together for eighteen months.
He’d made me think I was special when I was nothing more than another notch on his bedpost. At the thought, the drink in my hand disappeared far too easily. One long draw and it was empty. Despite being underage, no one mentioned the fact that I was drinking. Taking that as a sign, I excused myself from Dale and the conversation I was part of—but not actually participating in—to chase down another glass.
Across the room, Beau met my eye and frowned. A moment later, he turned his head and said something to Cassidee. His lips, set into their familiar smile, brushed against her hair as he spoke. She laughed at whatever he’d said. It twisted my stomach to watch them, and I was struck motionless.
As hard as it was to admit to myself, he loved her. It was evident in every move. Every little touch. Because I still loved him—even if I didn’t want to—his feelings for her mattered.
She was important to him.
God, I wanted to be important to him again.
If I ever was.
Finding a waiter, I grabbed a second flute of sparkling wine and tossed it back as fast as the first before being accosted to perform my duties again.
It wasn’t long that my gaze sought him out again.
Fuck him.
Goddamn him.
Why c
ouldn’t I look away?
I escaped from my PR hell once again only to watch as Cassidee flashed her ring to a woman dressed as a vampire, somehow managing to lift her left hand despite the huge rock weighing down her finger. I was glad I was across the room as they started gushing to each other about it. Their smiles were bright while they spoke. Cassidee laid a possessive hand on Beau’s chest, causing my eyes to burn.
“I had to suck his cock so many times to get a ring this size,” I murmured beneath my breath, filling the movement of her mouth with words of mockery.
Only, it backfired.
Instead of making me feel better, my words inspired a series of images of her on her knees in front of him. Then worse ones followed. His lips on her breasts, her thighs, her pussy. His mouth kissing her skin as he made his way to her baby bump before cooing over their mutual creation.
My tears grew thicker, nearly obscuring my vision. I was glad for waterproof mascara. At least I wouldn’t end up with black streaks down my face on top of everything else. Although, if I tortured myself much longer, even the waterproof stuff might not be enough to avoid that result.
As if he felt my gaze on him, Beau shifted his focus from Cassidee. He scrutinised the crowd, seemingly searching for something. Once more, I couldn’t help but notice the way the swirls of amber and chocolate in his irises seemed deeper and more intense than ever before against the background of the black mask. It was enough to steal my breath as I remembered staring into them while we made love.
Screwed. That’s all it was to him.
When his eyes met mine, I tried to hold steady. Tried to lift my chin and show him I was totally unaffected by him. That I didn’t give a shit about him, his pregnant fiancée, or the fact that he’d all but used me as his personal fuck toy.
Only, I couldn’t.
I was weaker than I wanted to be, ducking my head and breaking off our eye contact. Certain he was still watching me, I tried not to let a single tear fall. My teeth found my lip and I squeezed my hands into fists.
“I haven’t seen you around before.” The male voice behind me startled me. His words reminded me of my duty for the evening. And that wasn’t sitting around pining over my ex-boyfriend. Taking care not to smack anyone with the wings, I spun on the spot to greet the owner of the voice.
Phobic (Phoebe Reede: The Untold Story #2) Page 4