Phase (Phoebe Reede: The Untold Story #1)

by Michelle Irwin

  “Uh-huh, so you and Angel are together right now?”

  I was walking into a trap. Did he know I’d ditched Angel shortly after landing?

  “Not right now,” I said. “But we will be again soon.”

  “Pheebs, wasn’t it a condition of your trip that you had to have a companion?”

  “Dad, c’mon, I’m eighteen now. I can do this. I’m actually enjoying my time alone. You trust me out on the track. Trust me with this. Besides, I had a companion for the journey over here. That was technically the agreement.”

  “We’ll talk about it when you get home, but that’s also why I was trying to call you. For the last two days, I might add. And why I called Angel’s phone on your birthday.”

  “Dad, you didn’t have to worry.”

  “I wanted to wish you a happy birthday, baby girl.”

  Guilt ate at me that I’d denied them talking to me on my birthday.

  “We all love you, and you really shouldn’t have had to spend it alone.”

  I almost admitted that I hadn’t been alone, but stopped myself before it was too late. I really didn’t want to get into the ins and outs of my encounter with Beau. “Thank you, Daddy. But being alone for a while was the best thing I could have done.” It might have been true, but that didn’t stop the pang of homesickness twisting through my stomach. “Even if I do miss you guys so much.”

  “Us too, princess. We’re counting down the days until you get home. We had a party for you and Emmie like you asked.”

  The longing I felt to see everyone again blossomed into a chill that filled my body despite the bite of the northern summer. Tears filled my eyes. “Thank you, that—that means a lot to me. How is everyone?”

  “They’re good, but we really do all miss you.”

  We spent the next couple of minutes chatting about what had happened in my absence. Because it was early in the morning, most of my siblings were still in bed, but I did get to speak to Mum for a little while. By the time I hung up, I was feeling more than just a little homesick.

  In fact, I was practically ready to ride straight back to LAX and take the next flight home.

  Needing to cheer myself up, or maybe depress myself further, I reached for the other phone. I wanted to read Beau’s message again but was surprised to find a new one there already.

  Step two already achieved. You contacted me. Step three underway as we speak, a text conversation.

  After reading the message, I replied before I could talk myself out of it. So, what’s step four? And how many steps are there in total?

  Almost the instant I pressed Send, the phone rang. My teeth sank into my lip as I saw his name above the green and red icons on the screen. Blowing out a breath, I touched the green icon and slid it across the screen to answer the call.

  “Why, darlin’, I do believe we’ve just achieved step four,” he said before I even had a chance to say hello. “An actual conversation.”

  “Doesn’t a conversation generally require at least two parties?”

  “Answering the call was the initiation of conversation.”

  “If you say so.”

  “Darlin’, I know so.”

  “That doesn’t answer my second question though.”

  His chuckle carried down the line to me, and I smiled as my mind offered up memories of his face to accompany the sound. “I, uh, didn’t actually read your message. I wasn’t going to risk ya going silent on me again.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t want to use up all the battery so I turned it off.”

  “And then ya turned it back on?” I could hear the cocky grin lighting up his voice. My mind willingly offered up an image of him with that grin firmly in place, stretching to reveal the dimples on his cheeks—the left one just slightly larger and deeper than the right.

  “Yeah, so maybe I did. What of it?”

  “Why’d ya turn it back on?”

  I closed my eyes, hoping to keep the edge of embarrassment out of my voice. “Because I wanted to.”

  “Because ya wanted ta what?” His accent was the thickest I’d ever heard it as he teased me.

  “Because I wanted to read your message again,” I admitted in a rush. “It was sweet of you to get me the phone so we could stay in contact while I’m in the States.”

  “Nothin’ sweet about it, darlin’. Simply savin’ my own sanity.”

  “How do you figure?”

  “Well, the thought of not speakin’ to ya again, even if it’s just on a cell, would’ve made me go plumb crazy.”

  “But why? You don’t know me.” There was a strange series of beeps.

  “And there’s the shame, darlin’. ’Cause I wanna, and I can’t even say why.”

  “Okay. So what do you want to know?”

  “Oh, that’s a dangerous question. Let’s start with—”

  His voice cut off. I pulled the phone away from my ear and looked down at the black screen. Fuck! The battery was dead.

  I couldn’t even get his phone number and call him on my other phone. With a sigh, I made sure both phones were secure, had a drink and a protein bar and then climbed back on my bike to head into Nevada.

  As I pulled the bike back onto the highway, the memory of Beau’s voice played in my head. I could almost feel the weight of his arms wrapping around me on the bike, the warmth of his breath against the back of my neck.

  It was stupid. I’d known the guy less than eighteen hours, and yet I could remember the way he looked, the way he felt, and the smell of his cologne—or maybe it was a scent that was uniquely him—better than I could recall similar details about people I shared classes with in high school.

  It was as if the draw of him, whatever it was that made time skip and trip whenever he smiled at me, had anchored the memory of him firmly into my mind. It didn’t matter though—thoughts of him or not, there wasn’t much I could do until I checked into some accommodation and could charge the phone.

  FROM THE SEAT of my bike, I saw everything from cities to barren desert, had driven through towns and canyons and spent my time just enjoying the road as best as I could. Because there were so many side trips and detours I’d planned, I wound lazy trails in and out of small towns all the way to Vegas.

  My meandering journey made the trip take almost twice as long as it would have if I’d driven straight through, but it was worth it. At one point, I’d even managed to stop in to book a rafting tour of the Grand Canyon for the next day, securing the last spot at a discount price.

  By the time I’d actually found my way into my Vegas hotel room, almost sixteen hours had passed since I’d packed up and left Sacramento. I was beyond tired and stressing about the fact that I had to be ready to go at four the next morning. My thoughts were solely focused on getting to bed and catching a few Z’s. I had a quick shower and then fell straight into bed.

  It was only when my wake-up call rang the next morning that I remembered my phones. I’d completely forgotten to charge either of them before bed. I raced around to set up the chargers and plug both phones in, but because I had to leave so soon, there wouldn’t be time to wait for them to get juiced up. They’d have to stay at the hotel and Beau would have to hold his horses a little longer.

  With that done, I showered, dressed, and headed out for my day of adventure.

  For the next seventeen hours or so, I moved between a coach, a raft, a helicopter, and then the coach again to return me to the hotel. It was another awesome day on my trip, and more than made up for my slow start.

  When I came back, I was wet and thoroughly thrilled. I took another shower to wash off the river water, and then headed to bed with a smile on my face. I started to drift off before jolting back awake.

  Shit! I still hadn’t contacted Beau to apologise for the phone cutting off.

  I turned it on and it beeped with a few messages.

  Were we disconnected, or did you hang up?

  I flicked to the next message. It had come in almost six hours later.

  Oh
, darling, please don’t leave me hanging.

  Had he spent the whole six hours wondering? My stomach twisted at the thought that he might think I was deliberately torturing him.

  I flicked to the next message. I know I said no expectations, but can we at least go back to step three?

  Step three? I ran back through the messages to figure out what that was. A text conversation. I checked the time of the most recent message. He’s sent it that morning. Would he have assumed I wasn’t going to contact him just because I hadn’t yet?

  I thought about texting him to let him know why I hadn’t called, but decided to go one better. It was only eight o’clock after all; surely that wasn’t too late to be calling.

  The phone didn’t even ring once before he picked it up. “Dawson?”

  “Hey.”

  “Oh, darlin’, ya don’t know how good it is to hear your voice.”

  “It’s only been a day and a half.”

  “Time spent thinkin’ I’d said something to make ya disconnect. I asked a question and ya never responded.”

  “Sorry, the phone died and I only just had a chance to charge it this morning.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yeah, and I couldn’t call you today because I was white-water rafting through the Grand Canyon.”

  Laughter echoed down the line. “As excuses go, li’l miss, that’s gotta be one of the most original I’ve heard. Did ya have a good time?”

  “I had so much fun. First, we were on a bus down to Peach Springs and rafted down the river. It was just, wow, so beautiful and an absolute rush. Then we went on a helicopter back up to the top of the canyon. I’ve been on a helicopter before, of course, but going up out of the canyon like that it was such an experience.”

  There was silence on the other end of the line.

  “Beau?”

  “Sorry, darlin’, I was just listening to ya and got lost in the beauty of it all.”

  “Stop it.” A blush crept up my cheeks.

  “I could listen to your voice all night long,” he said.

  “You’re cute.”

  A sound echoed down the line that sounded suspiciously like the little groans and moans he’d made when we’d kissed. “Darlin’, do ya even know what that accent of yours does to me.”

  A smile lifted my lips. “I’m not the one with an accent, cowboy.”

  “Ya are ’round these parts. That perfect little down under accent.”

  “Now let me guess, you’d like to know what it’d be like to have my accent down under?”

  He laughed, a hearty sound full of genuine mirth. “What’s that even s’posed to mean?”

  I joined in his laughter. “Honestly? I don’t know. It was one of the come-on lines tried on me the nights before we met. But I would think someone talking while they’re down there kinda defeats the purpose. After all, wouldn’t keeping my mouth busy with other things be the point of going ‘down under?’”

  A choking sound echoed through the phone before he started to cough. I’d actually forgotten that most people probably didn’t have the same sense of humour as me and my friends. Plus, it was impossible to have grown up the way I had with my family, and not end up with a dirty mind and twisted sense of humour. Or a very clear knowledge of what went on behind closed doors gleaned from conversations around the track.

  “Are you all right?” I asked.

  “I’ve been propositioned and invited to do all sort of things, but I ain’t never heard a woman talk like that in casual conversation.”

  “You must be hanging out with the wrong women.”

  “I’m startin’ to think ya might be right.”

  I couldn’t stifle the yawn that fought its way out.

  “Oh, darlin’, ya sound exhausted.”

  “Yeah, I am a little. In fact, I’m already in bed.”

  Another little groan came down the line, and he muttered something that sounded suspiciously along the lines of an accusation that I was trying to kill him.

  “I didn’t want you to keep thinking I was deliberately avoiding you.”

  “Now why would I go and think a thang like that?” he teased. “This call has been, uh, enlightenin’. How long’re ya hangin’ ’round for?”

  “I’m in the States for another two weeks, give or take. I’ve gotta be in New York by the seventh.”

  “Please tell me you’ll call me ag’in before ya go?”

  “If you want me to.”

  “Darlin’, I’ll take anythin’ ya wanna give me.”

  “Anything?”

  He chuckled. “Was that a dangerous offer?”

  “Little bit. After all, I’m a dangerous girl.”

  “Yeah, I’m startin’ a see that. ’Til next time, Dawson.”

  “’Til next time.”

  When I hung up the phone, I drew it to my chest. How could a few minutes of conversation with a stranger make me feel like I’d come home? I smiled as I sent him a text.

  I’m turning the phone off again, but I’ll call you when I can. Sleep well.

  I waited until the message tone pinged and then glanced at the phone again.

  Sleep well, or by the time you get this, hello gorgeous.

  My grin stretched wider as I read the words. You think I’m gorgeous?

  You were supposed to be turning the phone off.

  I wanted to see if you’d text back. I’m turning it off now. Night.

  It was crazy how giddy I felt as we had our ridiculous text conversation. There was just something about him that made me want to talk to him again and again. Maybe it was the honesty. I could trust every word he said because I knew he wasn’t seeing me through some ridiculously inflated view of Phoebe Reede—daughter of ProV8 legend Declan Reede.

  A moment later, a new text came through. You still have it on, don’t you?

  I giggled. Maybe.

  I ain’t complaining. I could talk with you all night, but you need sleep.

  I wanted to argue, but I still had to check in with home, and it was getting late.

  Okay, I’m going for real now this time.

  I set the phone down on the bed next to me while I grabbed the one that would connect me with home. There wasn’t a steady flow of messages like I’d thought there might be, just enough to let me know they were checking in and hoping I was okay. They wouldn’t be my parents if they left me completely alone. I sent a quick message to them to let them know I was okay and give them a rundown on what I’d done so far—at least insofar as sight-seeing went. They didn’t need to know about Beau.

  Then I picked up the phone and called Angel. While I waited for her to answer, I rolled over onto my stomach and ran my fingers through my hair.

  “Hey, girl!”

  “God, it’s good to hear your voice, Angel.”

  “You too! Did your dad get a hold of you? Sorry, I had to tell him that we weren’t together. He started asking questions I couldn’t answer.”

  “Yeah, he did. I spoke to him earlier.”

  “And?”

  “And he’s a little miffed, but said we’d deal with it when I got home, which is Dad-code for ‘it’ll be forgotten by the time you get here,’ so it’s all good.” I rolled onto my back again. “How’s New York treating you?”

  “Can’t complain. Got a few new contacts that might turn into something. If they pan out, I might have to move over here with a little more permanence.”

  “Wow, that’d be awesome. It’d give me somewhere to stay next time I head Stateside at least.”

  “You know wherever I live in the world my door will always be open, and my bed will always be free.”

  “Your bed, Angel? Kinky.”

  “I told you before, sweetie: fireworks.”

  I hummed as I imagined the sort of fireworks I might have had with Beau if I’d been a little more willing. “Maybe.”

  She gasped in mock indignation. “I’ve been downgraded to a maybe? Is there someone else?”

  I was quiet.
<
br />   “Okay, girlie, spill! I want details. As gory as they come.”

  “There aren’t many gory ones to tell. I met a guy at a bar on my birthday.”

  “Shit, I knew I was having too good a time. I totally forgot to call you. Shitty friend here, table of one.”

  “It’s okay. You wouldn’t have been able to reach me anyway. I wasn’t really in a chatty mood. Or at least, I didn’t think I was, but then Beau—”

  “Oh, he has a name? It’s not just admiration from a distance?”

  “Yeah, he has a name.” I sat up in the bed as images of Beau’s face and the memory of his voice stirred in me. “And an accent,” I continued. “God, his voice alone makes me want to come on the spot.”

  “You didn’t . . .?”

  “No. We talked. We kissed.” A dreamy sigh I didn’t intend to release left my throat.

  “Oh my God, you’ve got it bad for him.”

  “No, I . . . well, maybe just a little. His good ol’ country boy charm has a certain appeal, that’s for sure.” I did my best impression of his accent as I said my last sentence.

  “Do you think he feels the same?”

  “Yeah, I think so. Or at least, he seems interested and for once, I can trust that it’s real. He’s got no ulterior motive, and he’s not trying to get with me because of what I do. I can just be me around him.”

  “I’m happy for you.”

  I rolled back over. Chatting with Angel about it all was making me see just how hopeless it was, despite the rush of pleasure I felt at being in contact with Beau again. “Ugh, I’m not.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it’s not going to last, is it? The most I can hope for is a summer fling.”

  She laughed. “Babe, if I had a hot cowboy coming after me, I’d be flinging all over town until we were both well and truly flung.”

  “Well, thanks for that visual.”

  “Oh, come on, you were dying for it.”