“And you could be the perfect man for me,” I said. “If only you didn’t live thousands of kilometres from home.” It was true. Too true, and the thought scared the shit out of me.
He sighed. “If only.”
For a while, he sank into silence, and I was left to dwell about the rapidly dwindling hours I had left with him. Too few to enjoy, but I couldn’t allow myself to let them pass unfulfilled.
“So, uh, there’s somethin’ I need to do this afternoon.” His voice was filled with a fear I’d only heard once before—in the instant before he’d told me he loved me. “If ya don’t mind, I thought, well, maybe you’d like to come with me. You can say no if ya want.”
Leaning back to take in his expression, I asked, “What is it?”
“Whenever I’m home, I go for an evenin’ walk.” He swallowed hard and met my eye. “With Abby.”
“Abby?” Surprise caused me to parrot her name.
“She’s got a cabin here and a live-in nurse. It was the best care I could get her. I look in on her as often as I can when I’m home. That’s where I went yesterday, to say hello. We always take a walk by the lake. Won’t ya join us?”
I thought about the way he’d clammed up before telling me about the accident and how he’d said Abby was awake but not aware. For him to invite me along now was a huge deal—so huge my first instinct was to say no. Meeting the family was one step too far, especially when all we had was the rest of that day. I wanted to thank him and leave him to do what he needed, but the gentle pleading in his eyes and the way he chewed on his lip stopped me from forming the words.
“Sure,” I said after a moment, hoping I wasn’t making a mistake.
THE WALK BACK to the cabin that housed his sister and her nurse wasn’t long or difficult, but it seemed harder because of the expectations that weighed heavier on me with every step.
“Are you sure I should come in?” I asked as we neared the door. “I can wait out here if you’d prefer.”
“’S okay, darlin’.” The innate calm in his voice seemed to belie the situation.
“But—”
He spun to me, placing one finger on my lips. “No buts, I’m glad you’re here.” His hand moved from my mouth to trace my cheek “Don’t be nervous. She’ll love ya.”
Giving me a reassuring smile, he knocked.
“Though not as much as I do,” he added, staring straight ahead.
Just then the door swung open and Beau reached for my hand, drawing it into his own.
The woman, who was easily in her early forties, looked between Beau and our joined hands. “You’re late.”
He shrugged. “I got a little distracted. Dawson, this is Rosemary. Rosemary, Dawson.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Dawson.” The look on her face indicated it was anything but.
“You too.”
Beau squeezed my hand tighter.
“She’s not quite ready yet because I wasn’t sure if you were actually coming because of your visitor. Would you like to give me a hand?” Rosemary asked as she led Beau into the small cabin.
“Course.” He followed as though it was a well-practised dance. Perhaps it was.
I followed through into the living room, instantly seeing the personal touches Beau had spoken of the day before. In a framed photo over the mantle, an obviously younger version of Beau stood with his arm slung around a pretty redhead. The freckles that dotted across her nose blazed in the sun. Behind the pair was a half-finished speedway car.
In other frames around the room were photos of the same girl with various other people. Trailing a few respectful steps behind Beau and Rosemary, I followed them down the hallway.
The bedroom they walked into was basically a hospital room. An assortment of hospital paraphernalia littered the room—everything from blood pressure monitors to an emergency defibrillator. In one corner was a cabinet that looked well stocked with medication. It was clearly a room where no expense had been spared to keep the inhabitant alive.
There was nothing else to look at but the bed that stood in the middle of everything. The redhead from the photos lay on the bed with her hair fanned out on her pillow as she stared blankly at the ceiling above. When she blinked, it was slow and steady, almost deliberate.
After Beau had told me his sister’s story, I’d begun to imagine twisted scars, extensive physical damage all over her broken body. Instead, there was nothing. It was the same girl—now a woman—staring up at the ceiling with an almost serene expression on her face.
As I watched, Beau lifted her frail body out of the bed and gently placed her into a waiting wheelchair. The nurse buzzed around him, checking equipment and sorting wires and tubes. She shifted the IV drip to the stand attached to the chair and fastened a portable oxygen tank to the tubes that ran beneath Abby’s nose.
Beau shifted around his sister, rearranging her nightie and placing her feet on the wheelchair footrests with an almost tender affection. Once he was satisfied, he stood. “I’ve got it from here, Rosemary.”
The nurse shot me another narrow-eyed glare and then left us alone.
Beau dipped behind Abby and whispered in her ear, “Abby, I’d like ya to meet Phoebe. The woman I love.”
While my stomach twisted around his words, his admission of his love to this woman who clearly meant a lot to him, I nodded. It didn’t escape my attention that he’d given my real name to her. “It’s lovely to meet you, Abby.”
There was no response, not that I’d expected one after what Beau had told me. There was something a little unsettling about talking to someone who gave no reactions to the simplest stimuli. Yet, Beau didn’t seem affected at all by the lack of reply.
“Shall we head out?” he asked. The question was directed at Abby, but then he smiled up at me and I nodded. He pushed her chair out through the cabin and down a ramp at the back door.
I trailed along behind the pair, uncertain whether my presence was welcome or not. Was Beau regretting asking me to join him? If he did, he wasn’t saying anything. Instead, his mouth fired off as he spoke to Abby.
“I told ya how I felt ’bout this un yesterday,” Beau said to her, nodding in my direction. “But I didn’t tell ya ’bout our first night or our dates.”
I wrung my hands together, not sure what to say or do while he spoke to her about me.
“Ya shoulda seen the way she tol’ me off for nearly spillin’ her drink the first night I saw ’er.”
As I trailed behind them, listening to him tell her about his feelings the first time he’d seen me, I was lost for words.
His accent was the thickest I’d ever heard it. Not because he was showing off, or trying to flirt, but because he was able to be himself. Completely himself. It was as though being there at the resort, and being with Abby more than anything, stripped away every layer of the perfectly constructed public persona—the perfectly put-together cowboy look, the obvious vocal training, and the impeccably trimmed stubble that had grown almost half an inch longer since we’d met at the Fun Spot. It was clear he was as much of a product of his PR team as I was.
And he was letting me see the real him. It was a view I was certain not too many people were able to see. In the public eye, it was hard to know who to trust.
“Ain’t that right, Phoebe?”
My gaze shot to his as his words drew me out of my musing. I had no idea what he’d said, but I nodded anyway. Then I closed the distance between us and rested my hand over his, helping him to push his sister on their walk.
Before long, he was reminiscing about their adventures and misadventures. As he spoke, he pushed her down the wide cement paths that had clearly been designed for this exact purpose.
About half an hour after we’d left the cabin, the three of us were at the end of the concrete pier.
He pushed her chair near to the end and set the brakes. Then he gave her cheek a tender stroke as he moved to dangle his legs off the end.
“It really is so beautiful out here.�
�� It was the first time I’d said a word since we’d left her cabin.
My mind was on the boat, trailing slow circles in the sun. It was watching the sun sinking ever closer to the horizon, marking the end of my last day with Beau. It was with Beau’s sister and her suffering. It focused on the pain he must have felt every time I spoke about my wonderful family while we were together. I was wracked with guilt over having a full family who were able to show affection, and who I’d selfishly abandoned to find myself.
I stared out at the water confused because in my escape from my real life, I’d found Beau, in whom I could see pieces of the real me. At the same time, Abby had struck something in me that made me miss everyone so terribly, and I longed to hear the tales of their own misadventures while I’d been away. I was torn between wondering how I could say goodbye and how I could not.
One thing was becoming clearer by the second. Leaving Beau was going to be one of the most painful things I’d ever have to do.
“It really is. Abby loves it,” Beau beamed, breaking me from my trance. He leaned forward against the railing that enclosed the space. “I know ya probably think I’m silly for sayin’ it ’cause of the situation. But I can tell she does.”
I sat down beside him and rested my hand over his. “Who wouldn’t? The sun, the breeze, the crystal-clear lake. It’s like walking into a postcard.”
“That’s why I turned it into what it is. It used to be owned by this ol’ geezer who didn’t let no one near the lake.” He chuckled. “Abby and me used to sneak up here anyways. She’d usually bring a boyfriend, and I’d coerce some poor girl to come up as well, and the four o’ us’d swim until the ol’ coot came out to shoot at us.”
He glanced up at Abby and the corners of his smile fell just a little. The change was almost imperceptible, and to anyone else he might have still looked happy, but there was an undercurrent of sorrow in his gaze when he turned and looked beyond the lake.
“Thank you,” I murmured, moving closer to him and resting my cheek against his shoulder. “For letting me come.”
He threw his arm around my shoulder and held me closer. I didn’t want to leave, but I had to. As much as I’d found myself, I was missing the old parts of me that were waiting to spring at the chance of returning to my family, and to the track. Even if I didn’t have the deadline of my return home, there were things we’d need to discuss before I could ever even consider anything serious with him.
The three of us sat like that for a while before Beau kissed the top of my head and moved to stand. He held his hand out to help me up and then surprised me by embracing me. His hold was wonderful and stifling at the same time. I loved the way my body fit against his, and the security I experienced when I was with him, but it all had to end.
Too soon.
“We should be getting back,” he said. “Nurse Rosemary will be cross with me if I keep ya away for too long, won’t she, Abs?”
After he’d twisted her chair around so it was facing the right direction, he turned to me and grinned. “Pheebs, why don’t ya tell some stories on the way back?”
“What?”
He grinned. “Well, you’ve heard some of the wicked things Abby and I got into. Surely ya have some stories of your own.”
“I see your game,” I said, narrowing my eyes at him.
“No game, just sick of hearin’ myself talk. Why don’t ya tell us how ya got into racin’?”
I smiled as I recalled my earliest memories of Dad taking me to the kart track. It was a fairly safe topic, so on the walk back to the cabin—taking the same long-way-round path—I told them both the story about how Dad got me into karting.
By the time we got back to Abby’s cabin, almost two hours had passed. The nurse didn’t say anything about how long we’d been gone, so I assumed that must have been about the same length of time Beau usually took on his walks.
I stood back while Beau and the nurse went through the routine of shifting Abby and her various bags, tubes, and wires back onto the bed.
Once they were finished, Beau came back and grabbed my hand. “I’ll see ya before I leave, Abby,” he said. “See ya, Rosemary.”
“See you later, Mr. Miller.”
I gave her a smile and waved goodbye, but she pretended to not notice me.
Beau led me out of the house.
“I’m sorry ’bout Rosemary,” he said. His lips twisted in distaste. “She’s been with Abby for eighteen months now and is a little protective of her and me.”
“So what was it about?”
“She’s upset I brought ya to see Abby.” He wouldn’t meet my eye. “Given the short-term nature of our circumstances. Says Abby needs stability.”
“Beau, maybe I shouldn’t—”
Taking a few big steps, he got in front of me and turned to walk backward. Then he touched his finger against my lips. “I know it sounds weird, but I believe Abby can understand what’s happenin’. That she knows I’m there. That’s why I talk to her so much. And I know she woulda wanted to meet ya. Because you’re special to me.”
When I didn’t keep up the argument, he spun back around to walk at my side.
“’Sides, we’ve got other things to worry ’bout. Our hours are dwindlin’ mighty fast.”
I sighed because he was right. One more evening, and then I’d have to leave. Even if all I wanted to do was stay.
BY THE TIME we got back to the house, we were both ready for a shower so we shared one before dinner, although we spent far more time concentrating on each other than on getting clean.
“I’m supposed to go make an appearance at the bonfire tonight,” he said out of the blue as if he’d been avoiding telling me for a while. Perhaps it was because he didn’t want me upset that in the few hours we had left, he was leaving me. He explained the tradition at the resort to have regular camp-style bonfires for all of the guests, and it grew clear the idea had been his. It was as if his property had become the playground of a boy who’d never been able to go away to camp.
“’Cause it’s your last night, you should come too,” he said as he handed me a towel.
It was another chance to get a glimpse into his world. My last chance. “I’d love to come. What’s the dress code?”
“Come as ya are.”
“As I am?” I teased glancing down at my matching bra and panties. “That might be a little scandalous.”
His arms wrapped around my waist as he chuckled. “Ya ain’t gonna hear me complainin’.”
“You might once some of the guests start turning up.”
“Ya got a point there, li’l miss. Maybe ya need to wear the shirt ya procured from my closet.”
“No dice,” I said.
He gave me a questioning look, and I blushed, not wanting to admit the reason I didn’t want to wear the shirt too much before I went home.
“It smells like you,” I muttered. “I don’t want to lose that any earlier than I have to. I want to be able to go home and wrap myself in it. Pretend I’m still here with you.” My last words were almost silent and if I’d lingered over them, I was certain tears would have formed in my eyes.
He groaned as if my words were the sexiest thing ever. “Oh, darlin’, I can’t deny ya that.” He disappeared before returning a second later with another shirt from his wardrobe. “Ya should wear this one. Then I’ll have one that smells like you.”
“I can hardly deny you that,” I said as I slipped the shirt on. It was too big for me, just like the other one, but that didn’t matter.
“This’ll be my favorite shirt from now on.” His fingers worked to button the shirt from top to bottom as he spoke.
When it was buttoned halfway, I told him to stop. I grabbed the two corners and twisted them into a knot across my stomach. Then I went to reach for my jeans to finish the outfit, but when I bent over, Beau’s moan stilled me.
“Oh, darlin’. That there is one more image that’ll stick with me.” His hand trailed over my arse as he said the words.
I parted my legs as his fingers explored and played.
“Phoebe, can I—”
“Yes,” I moaned as I reached out for the bed in front of me for support. I was so ready for him; I would have agreed to almost anything. He held my complete trust.
The word was barely free before he’d drawn my panties down my legs and stepped close behind me. One of his hands played against my hip, his fingers dancing and rubbing small circles against my skin.
A gasp left me as his other hand guided his cock against me. The warm, wet head brushed against my clit.
I bit my lip while he traced the same path again and again. Each time he ran himself over my pussy, a whimper escaped me. There was something wanton about bending over in front of him, of being half-dressed and desperate for more.
Just when his soft stroking was driving me insane, he pushed himself into me. Inch by blissful inch. The sensation was different from anything before. Having him inside me, hot, hard, and bare, was like nothing else.
“Oh, darlin’.” The words slipped from him when he buried himself deep inside me.
He stilled. Both his hands found purchase on my hips, and he used the hold to rock me against him.
The pace he set was almost agonisingly slow, and yet it was enough to see me teetering on the edge. Each time he dragged me backward, it was like he was trying to find new depths.
“Beau, I . . . I . . . oh God!” I was so close and ready. The angle. The knowledge that it was just him and me, there was nothing between us.
His grip on my hip was soft enough not to leave a mark but secure enough so that I was certain he’d never let me go. It was enough. It was everything.
With a groan, he sped up. His breath grew rough and I lost it, tumbling over the edge as he moved within me.
“Oh, sweet Jesus,” he muttered as he felt me come around him.
Phase (Phoebe Reede: The Untold Story #1) Page 23