Phase (Phoebe Reede: The Untold Story #1)

by Michelle Irwin

  The most we could hope for was a summer fling, and he’d made it clear he wasn’t interested in flinging with just anyone—and I wasn’t either for that matter. Although, for him, I might have, and that was exactly the reason I needed to run. How could I take what he wanted to give to someone special knowing that I couldn’t commit that way?

  When we reached the hotel, he helped unload my bike and then set it to rest to say goodbye. He grabbed my hand, and I closed my eyes to stop the tears as he did.

  “’Til tomorrow,” he said, kissing my hand before tugging on it to guide me closer.

  His palms moved to caress my face, but I pulled away before he could try to kiss me. “Sorry, I don’t want to pass it on.”

  “’Kay.” The uncertainty in him was clear in his voice, in his mannerisms, and everything. Even though I barely knew him, it was clear I’d left him muddled. “I can pick ya up here tomorrow mornin’ if ya like?” he offered. “Saves taking both my truck and your bike up to Ormond.”

  I bit my lip and nodded. “Sounds good. Night, Beau.”

  “Night, Dawson.”

  I flinched as he said the name—part of the reason I needed to go.

  Without looking back at him, I rode my bike down to the parking garage and parked it in the spot for my room before heading to find some food in the restaurant attached to the hotel. I could have ordered room service, but I wasn’t quite ready to be alone in my room. There was stuff I needed to process first.

  I was halfway across the lobby when I heard his voice. “I ain’t got her last name.”

  With my heart between my teeth, I glanced over at the check-in desk. Beau was standing there talking to the clerk. He ran his hands through his hair as a frustrated sigh slipped from his lips.

  “She said she was sick, and I wanna check on her, that’s all.”

  “I’m sorry, sir, I can’t find anything listed under Dawson as a first or last name.”

  He turned around and his gaze fell on me.

  “Dawson, I am mighty glad I caught ya.”

  My heart pounded as I crossed the hotel lobby. “What are you doing here, Beau?” I asked him, ignoring the clerk behind him.

  “I decided I couldn’t leave ya alone while you were sick. I’m here to nurse ya back to health.” He offered me a winning grin.

  “That’s really not necessary. I’ll be fine. I think I just need some food and some sleep.”

  “Ya do know we were headin’ toward the food part, don’t ya?”

  “Yeah, I know. I just—”

  “Stop.” He stepped closer to me.

  I stepped back away from him. “What?”

  “Stop, darlin’. Just relax a danged minute.”

  I frowned.

  “There’s somethin’ going on in that pretty li’l head of yours. I don’t need ya to tell me what, but can ya at least admit that much?”

  My lips twitched upward at his perception. As soon as they did, he stepped closer until he could circle his arms around my waist.

  “And if I was to guess a second time, it’s somethin’ to do with what I do for a livin’.”

  His gaze was too intense for me to meet any longer and I turned away. How did I even begin to explain that I knew exactly what he’d meant when he said it was nice not having to be the glorified, media-friendly version of himself? That maybe I knew it even better than he did because I had the added expectation of being my father’s daughter, and growing up under a spotlight—the one that lit up my life with so many benefits but also threatened to burn me to a cinder if I hadn’t escaped it when I did.

  Saying the words seemed like the easiest thing in the world and saying them to him—someone who might actually understand—easier still.

  Only, doing so would change everything. It would be admitting that I was more than who I was in the States. It was giving him a way to contact me when I went home. But that wasn’t what I wanted. Even though I wanted it desperately.

  More than anything else, I wanted this slice of life—of real life, however manufactured it might be by lies and fabrication—and I wanted it to be separate from everything else. Untainted. I wanted to be able to go home and know that for one moment, with one other person, I was more me than I’d ever been before, or could be again.

  “Don’t overthink this. Please? Let’s just be you and me. Beau and Dawson.”

  His use of the name I’d given him sent a new spike of guilt through my heart. I wanted to pull away, but he was so intoxicating that all I could do was nod.

  “Now, let’s see about some food, shall we? I believe I was shoutin’ dinner.”

  “Beau—”

  “If your next words are anythin’ to do with me leavin’ your side before I know you’ve eaten and are okay, I ain’t gonna listen to them.”

  “You’re not going to take no for an answer, are you?”

  He shook his head. “I really ain’t. Now, shall we?” he asked as he offered me the crook of his elbow.

  “I don’t really want to be around other people,” I said. “I was just going to get some food to go.”

  “Hmm, tell ya what. Run upstairs and have a shower. Meet me down here in a half hour. Give my name at the restaurant. I’ll show ya the sort of quiet dinner I prefer.”

  Despite the suggestive edge to his words, I didn’t think he’d meant them that way. He was celibate after all.

  I still wasn’t sure it was a smart thing to do, but I was too fascinated with him to say anything but yes.

  OUR DINNER CONVERSATION was awkward. I didn’t know what to say to him, and he seemed just as uncomfortable with every topic of small talk.

  By the time I’d arrived at the table—a private place far away from all the other patrons—he had a bottle of wine for us to share and had already ordered our meals.

  “I hope ya don’t mind me takin’ the liberty,” he said.

  I shook my head but used the excuse of still not feeling that well to avoid having him pour me a drink. Despite my joking with Mum about what the boys at Emmanuel Racing might do to celebrate my birthday if I’d been home, I really wasn’t a drinker. And it wasn’t only because I’d been underage before I’d left. That wouldn’t have stopped Dad or Uncle Morgan sharing a bottle of beer with me.

  Instead, it was because I didn’t want to risk damaging the gift Emmanuel had given me. I couldn’t. That was why I tried to eat right and stay healthy, avoided alcohol and too much coffee, and had never turned to energy drinks to help get me through despite how much I needed them some days. It was also why I was religious about taking my medication and didn’t take chances when I was sick. I didn’t want to do anything to shorten the life of his kidney.

  Of course, explaining all of that to Beau was just another can of worms I wanted to avoid. It was far easier to shake my head each time he offered to pour me a glass.

  “So—” I started after our food came out before realising I had no way to finish the sentence—only a desire to talk away the awkwardness.

  His gaze lifted to mine and a smile crossed his lips. “Are ya ready to admit that you were tryin’ to give me the slip?” he asked, his tone light and casual despite the weight behind the words. To anyone else listening, he might as well have been asking about the weather.

  “I’m sorry,” I murmured, pushing my food around my plate. “It just surprised me to find out that you race cars for a living.”

  “It ain’t that unusual a profession is it?”

  A bark of laughter ripped from me. It was loud enough that the people at the tables around us all looked in my direction.

  Beau cocked his head to the side, looking like a bemused cocker spaniel.

  “It ranks up there in the unusual stakes,” I said. “Along with astronaut, rock star, and movie star. Something lots of kids want to be, but there aren’t too many who actually get the chance.”

  “I’ll give ya that. Is that the issue then, does that mean ya wanted to be a driver and never got the chance?”

  “I never
had a choice about my career,” I said, avoiding the question. Thoughts of Dad’s patient tuition on the kart track, in the garage, and at Emmanuel Racing headquarters all crossed through my mind and made me smile. In addition to my track time, I’d even completed a third of my mechanical apprenticeship—under Dad’s orders. He argued that it had been invaluable to his success. Technically, I’d done everything I needed to complete it, but because I’d been a school-based apprentice, Dad couldn’t sign off for more than the third. “Not really at least. It was all decided by Dad long before I really understood what I wanted.”

  “Ya obviously don’t hate what ya do though,” Beau said, reaching his hand across the table to run his knuckle over my small smile as if to prove how much I enjoyed it.

  “No. I don’t. In fact, I love it and I can’t imagine doing anything else. It’s just . . .” I leaned away from his touch, and he dropped his hand back to the table. My gaze moved to where my fingers played with the edge of the cloth napkin on my lap—anything to avoid looking in his eyes and losing my nerve again. “Expectations.”

  “Yeah. Expectations.” He seemed thoughtful for a moment as if the wheels of his mind were clacking over to draw a conclusion that had eluded him so far. “Is that what did it?”

  “What?”

  “Made ya want to run from me.” His tone made my breath catch as he murmured the words low—husky and needful. “Too many expectations?”

  I owed him an answer to that at least. “I can’t explain it, Beau. All I can say is I reached a point where I couldn’t stay in the car a second longer. I don’t even know if I can do this.” I indicated the restaurant around us with my hand before meeting his gaze. “And yet here I am.”

  “Why’d ya say yes if that were the case?”

  “You said you wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

  His stare was level, unwavering. “Ya don’t strike me as the type to accept that. If ya really wanted to say no, it’d be a no.”

  I sighed because he was right. “Okay, it’s because I can’t seem to stay away from you either.”

  “Ya make that sound like a bad thang.”

  “It is.”

  He looked hurt as he leaned back and stared at me. “Why?”

  I sighed. “Because it can never last, can it? I have to go back to Australia in a few days, and then what? A long-distance relationship? How? Your schedule must be crazy, and my work keeps me just as busy. How could it ever work between us?”

  A chuckle left him. “That’s what you’re worried about? The future?”

  “The future. The past. Everything. I’m not sure I’m ready for this . . .” I waved my hands in the space between us. “Whatever this is. It’s too big. Too much.”

  His expression softened and he leaned forward. “It’s okay to be a little scared, darlin’. Lord knows I’m terrified.”

  “Really?”

  “Heck yeah. Ya have me questioning promises and decisions I made a long time ago. Ya have since the first night I met ya.”

  I was going to ask for an example, but the blazing lust in his gaze put my question to bed. And very nearly convinced me to go there as well.

  “It’s more than just that though,” I said, breaking away from his hungry stare. “You don’t even know me.”

  “Are ya sure ’bout that?”

  “Of course I am.” Everything I’d hidden from him danced beneath the surface.

  “You’re carin’ and warm.”

  “Anyone can pretend to be that around someone they barely know.”

  “Yeah, but ya don’t pretend,” he said. “It’s in them tiny moments that it becomes obvious. Like the way ya made sure I had enough ketchup for my fries at lunch and got enough napkins for the both of us.” A low throaty chuckle left him. “Actually, ya got enough napkins for a small army.”

  His laughter drew a smile and laugh from me. “I’m used to needing a heap of spares with my brothers and sisters.”

  “Which leads to my second piece of evidence. Ya haven’t spoken much about your family, but when ya do, there’s this lightness about ya. A reverence almost. They’re not a burden to ya, at least not most of the time. They’re a treasure. That’s a rare thang to see.”

  “There are times they can be a burden,” I argued, before sighing. “You’re right though. I couldn’t imagine life without them.”

  “That smile right there, that’s what I mean.” He nodded in my direction. “Plus, ya feel everythin’ so completely. When you’re sad, it’s clear on every inch of ya.”

  “Yeah, so I wear my heart on my sleeve. That doesn’t prove that you know me.”

  “I know you’re passionate ’bout thangs ya care about. Like women’s rights.” He laughed, no doubt recalling the multiple times I’d had a go at him for his misogynistic comments.

  “Well, it’s hard not to be passionate about that when you’ve grown up in a male-dominated industry.”

  “You understand motors and cars in a way that proves you’re a little obsessive.”

  “So? There are other girls who know about motors.”

  “I never said there weren’t. I’m just sayin’ I know you.”

  “But all of those are just observations; none of it means you know me.”

  “Ah, but what is knowledge but a collection of observations?”

  I lifted my brow. “That’s very philosophical, cowboy.”

  He shrugged. “There was a time when I thought no one would understand me, but Mabel cut through that.” Once again, sorrow passed over him at the mention of her name. I wanted to ask more but didn’t feel I had the right when I hadn’t even told him my name. “It had nothin’ to do with my last name, my past or anythin’ else, and everythin’ to do with her seein’ me. Observin’ me.” He leaned back again, and looked off to the side, staring into the distance for a moment—as if trying to collect himself. “So maybe I don’t know your last name, but I do know ya, darlin’.”

  “First name,” I admitted quietly. “You don’t know my first name.” It wasn’t technically a lie. After all, Phoebe Dawson was the name on my birth certificate.

  The smile that lit up his mouth made me want to spill everything else. “See, if I knew everythin’, I’d never get the thrill of learnin’ anythin’ new ’bout ya. And, li’l miss, it is mighty thrillin’.” He winked. “That’s enough for me.”

  “Really?”

  “Ya fascinate me, and I can’t get ya outta my head, but I promised ya no expectations, and I keep my promises. I ain’t lookin’ forward to the day ya leave, but I ain’t gonna pressure ya into more than you’re ready for either.”

  “So this is just what it is?”

  “Just you and me, darlin’. Just you and me. That’s enough, ain’t it?”

  Unsure what I could say that would top the things he’d said, and the space he was giving me even while refusing to let me push him away, I simply nodded. “I think I’ve had enough to eat.”

  “You don’t wanna look at dessert?”

  I shook my head. “I kinda just want to head up to bed. I’ve got a lot to think about.”

  “Okay, let me get the check and I’ll walk ya to the elevator.”

  My heart pounded against my ribcage as Beau called over the server and settled the bill. The night was so different to what I’d expected when I’d climbed out of his truck. Once everything was settled, Beau slipped his arm around my waist and guided me toward the lifts.

  “How much wine did ya have?” he asked as he pulled me to the side rather than letting me push the call button. He rested his body against the wall beside me, wrapping one arm around my waist.

  “None.”

  He frowned. “Hmm, in that case, I don’t reckon I should drive right now,” he said.

  “Is this just a ploy to spend more time with me?” I asked.

  One of his hands caressed my cheek, his thumb tracing a line over my cheekbone.

  “I’d love to spend more time with ya. All the time ya have left here, if ya’d let
me, but it’s not that. I won’t get behind the wheel after too much drankin’. Not even if I’m only a little light-headed.”

  “That’s not a bad rule to live by.” I’d seen enough wreckage in Cain’s smash repair shop to know the dangers of driving drunk.

  The frown that crossed his features darkened. “Yeah, it ain’t worth the risk. An hour or two, and I should be good to go.”

  “If you’d like, you could come up to my room.”

  “I ain’t sure that’s a good idea either, darlin’. Maybe I should go for a walk to clear mah head.”

  My expression fell. I might have only made the suggestion because he needed to sober up a little before driving, but it still hurt to know he didn’t want to spend time with me alone—only in public places.

  “Ya get the wrong idea so easily,” he said before pressing his lips against mine. The kiss warmed me from the inside. A hint of the red wine he’d had lingered on his tongue, the taste rich and heady. “It would be a bad idea ’cause I don’t know how long I can resist your allure.”

  “My allure?”

  “You’re mighty allurin’.”

  “Just come up. I promise I won’t try anything.”

  He leaned into me, pressing me against the wall. When he ducked his head to whisper in my ear, his cheek brushed against mine, and his breath grew more ragged by the second. “That ain’t a promise I can make.”

  His lips pressed against the column of my throat and a strangled moan left me. One of his arms moved beside my head, boxing me in so I couldn’t escape his teasing tongue—not that I was trying to.

  “Darlin’, I may be celibate, but I ain’t no saint. If I come up with ya now, I’ll be tempted in the worst way.”

  The fingers of his free hand trailed up my side, teasing my waist before brushing over the swell of my breast. Every place he touched was on fire, and only he could extinguish the flames. It sealed the thought in my head. I wanted him. Would take anything he was willing to offer.

  “I really think you should come up,” I said in a breathy moan as his fingertips danced over my nipples. Without moving too fast and risking him stopping his perfect assault, I edged closer to the call button.