Phase (Phoebe Reede: The Untold Story #1) (16 page)

He turned his body and his hand moved to my side. The shift in his position meant that the next time my hand traced its path, it hit his cock, rubbing it through the material of his jeans. He broke off the kiss and tilted his head back.

“Dang, woman, what’re ya doin’ to me?”

I smiled. “You ask that a lot, you know?”

“Because I can’t figure it out.” His palms caressed my face, and he drew my forehead to his lips. “I can’t figure you out,” he admitted in a soft whisper before pressing his lips against the middle of my forehead.

“I’m not that hard to work out,” I said. Who knew that such an innocent place, such a soft kiss, could ignite flames in me that would be impossible to put out?

I know a hose I wouldn’t mind trying to put it out with.

I was so lost in the moment, that I barely realised my hand was still moving until Beau moaned something that was halfway between a plea for me to keep going and a request to stop.

“Sorry,” I said. “I was kinda enjoying myself.”

“Me too. A little too much for a park with so many li’l uns ’round. ’Specially . . .” He trailed off and met my gaze. A sigh slipped from him, and he turned to look off into the distance. “’Specially when you’re still trying to run from yourself,” he added in a murmur.

His words were the reminder I needed to be discreet. People in the States may not have known me, but I was still ultimately something of a public figure. I couldn’t be feeling up practical strangers on a Ferris wheel in the middle of a fun park.

I went to pull away, but he held me close. “Is this okay?” he asked, pulling my back against his front.

“Yeah. It’s perfect.” And looking out over the view, it really was. I’d never been on a better date. True, I barely had any to compare it with, but it was still far and away the best.

AFTER OUR MISADVENTURE on the Ferris wheel, we went to the arcade and played a few games. Then Beau spotted a photo booth. I didn’t even have a choice in the matter, and a second later, I was in the small booth with him, pulling faces and kissing him as the photos rolled one after the other.

“I need somethin’ to remember this by when I get home,” he explained as he took a strip of the photos before handing me the second. “I don’t wanna have it fade to a dream.”

Looking at the photos, my heart fluttered and my stomach loop-the-looped. The look in his eyes was hungry, tender, needful. I glanced up to meet his gaze and thank him for giving me a set too and was treated to a real-life version of the look.

“Keep looking at me like that, cowboy, and I won’t be held responsible for what happens next.”

For half a second, he looked like he was about to pick me up and pin me against the wall, but then he blew out a breath, muttering something under it as he did, and turned away.

“Where next?” he asked after he’d composed himself.

I shrugged. “I could eat.”

He grinned. “Let’s see what they got, then.”

An hour later, with full bellies and laughter on our lips, we headed back out from the food to find some more fun—preferably something that didn’t involve going upside down, considering the greasy food twisting in my still sensitive stomach. Our conversation over lunch had focused on the stuff I’d done on my trip so far, it was the safest topic for me. At least it meant I didn’t have to reveal anything more about who I was or where I’d come from.

“I’m sure I saw something about karts, didn’t I?” I hinted.

“I believe ya might’ve.”

“That’s where I want to go next,” I said, grinning at the thought of getting some speed on again.

When we got close to the karts, I practically jogged the last of the distance.

“Why, li’l miss, I ain’t ever seen a girl so excited by go-karts.”

“Just look at it! It’s got multiple levels. We’ve got to go on it.”

“If ya think ya can handle it.”

My expression fell, and I gave him the best version of bitch brow I could muster. “Are you fucking kidding me right now? Just because I’ve got a pair of tits, I couldn’t possibly know how to handle a kart?”

He held his hands up in surrender. “I never suggested no such thang, darlin’, just that ya said you’ve never been on one with different levels.”

“Just shut up and let me at ’em!”

He chuckled. “Okay, whatever ya say. But don’t get upset when I beat ya, ’kay? When I get behind the wheel, I can’t stop my competitive streak, not even for you, li’l lady.”

“Oh, buster, now you’ve done it. Loser shouts dinner.”

He tilted his head in confusion. “What’s the point in that?”

“In what?”

“Shoutin’ dinner.”

I was confused. Surely he’d had a friendly wager before? “Well, it’s a bet, isn’t it?”

“But why?”

“To add some sport. Loser pays, you know? It’s a pretty standard bet.”

He frowned. “You said ‘shouts.’”

I saw then that it was just a breakdown in communication. “Yeah. Don’t worry, it’s an Aussie thing. Are we on?”

“If ya wanna risk your spending money, that’s your loss, li’l darlin’.”

I tried to hide my smirk as we lined up for the multistorey track. Yeah, he wouldn’t even know what hit him.

By the time we were lined up and ready to go, I was in my element. The smell of petrol and oil. The heat of the track. I may have graduated to cars a few years earlier, but I’d spent so much time in and around karts that I had no concerns about beating Beau.

It’s almost unfair really
, I thought as I hit the throttle.

Except he beat me. Not by much, but he slid home a second or two before I crossed the line.

“Whew, woman, you can drive,” he said as he pulled off his helmet.

“Not well enough evidently.”

“I did tell ya not to be disappointed when I won.”

“No, you don’t understand, I can’t lose. I
don’t
lose. I’m—” I cut off before I could say I was Phoebe Reede and Phoebe Reede didn’t lose at the track—not when non-racers were involved. I’d even handed Dad his arse often enough to know I could handle this track, and Beau. “Never mind,” I continued, brushing it off. “I just don’t like to lose. Best two out of three.”

“Ya sure are a glutton for punishment,” he said with a clear challenge in his eyes.

“Is that right? Are you willing to put your money where your mouth is?”

“You’re already hollerin’ for dinner, what else do ya wanna pay for?”

His slip-up helped break the tension, and I couldn’t help the peal of laughter that rushed from me. “Shouting, not hollering.”

“Same thang.”

“No, it’s really not. You can’t holler a round.” I chuckled at the thought of him saying something like that to Dad or Morgan. “But why don’t we go double or nothing? Loser pays for dinner and breakfast.”

“Why, li’l lady, if I didn’t know no better, I’d suspect ya were fixin’ to steal my virtue.”

I blushed as a chuckle escaped me. “No, nothing like that. I just, well, I—I-want-to-spend-as-much-time-with-you-as-I-can.” The words all ran together as I let them slip in a nervous rush.

He looked as breathless as I felt as I made the confession. Then his slow smile spread over his mouth again, lifting the corners of his lips as he watched me.

“I am mighty glad to hear that.” He pressed his lips to mine.

My eyes sank closed as I relished the taste of him, but even his kiss wasn’t enough to distract me from the need to prove to myself that I hadn’t lost my touch on the track.

I pulled away and nodded toward the karts. “Shall we?”

“You’re on, but when I win this race, and, darlin’, I will win this race, you’ll owe me two meals.”

“Don’t be so confident.” I poked his chest. “This one’s mine.”

When we were back in the karts, I was ready. I’d been a little lax during the first race, assuming I’d be able to beat him without trying like I did with most people on the track. This time though, I would go hard. I would drive as if it was an actual race. As if my very career depended on it. My pride was on the line, and that wasn’t something I gave up easily.

I took off hard and got to the first corner first. Taking the aggressive racing line, I cut across his nose and rushed down the inside. The barriers whizzed past, and I relished the feel of being so low to the ground. Much as I loved racing cars, the bike and the kart were better in some ways. They both had one thing in common—something I loved. The connection I felt when it was just me and the motor. Nothing between me and the road, almost as if my very spirit were free to soar at top speed.

When I approached the next corner, I took the aggressive line again, braking at the last moment and turning into the corner to shoot through the apex. From time to time, I saw the wheels of Beau’s kart in my periphery. Each time, I’d adjust my line to close the gap and force him to back the fuck off.

By the time we finished the session, I was grinning from ear to ear. The passion for racing that had been buried underneath everything else when Nikki’s diagnosis came through, was back in me. The petrol in my veins. The feel of the kart. God, I wanted to call Dad and demand he put me in the ProV8 a year earlier than we’d initially discussed. Of course, that would mean pushing a damned good driver out for me before he was ready to go, but in the sweet throes of victory, I didn’t give a shit.

As soon as we’d brought the karts back into the pit area, I climbed out of mine and ran to Beau. I wrapped my arms around his neck and threw my head back as he twirled us both around.

“If that’s how ya act when ya win, perhaps I should give ya the last one.”

“Don’t you dare,” I said. “No one
lets
me win. Not if they know what’s good for them.”

“Who says I didn’t let ya win that one?”

I gave him another bitch brow. “Don’t even try that, buddy. Just because your fragile male ego can’t stand losing to a girl, doesn’t mean you ‘let’ me have anything.”

“Ya ain’t never gonna know.”

I squared my jaw and stared at him. “The hell I won’t. Admit that I won. Fair and square.” There was no way he’d let me win; he’d been fighting for the finish just like I had.

“Heh, I’ll admit ya can drive okay. For a girl.”

“Did those words really just leave your mouth?” I narrowed my eyes at him in disbelief as his statement became the focus of my entire being. I was already miffed before he said the words, and they just supercharged my anger. My fists clenched as I pressed my tongue against the top of my mouth to stop myself from chewing him out the way I wanted to.

Fuck. I should have trusted my first instincts—he was just as bad as every other bloke out there. Short-changing my achievements, just because of the gap between my legs.

“Uh—”

Whatever he was going to say went into the ether as my technique to still my tongue failed, and the words shot from me. “Here I was thinking that maybe, just maybe, I’d found the one guy who didn’t think that my lack of a penis made me somehow lesser than him.”

My lips curled into a snarl as every bitter emotion I’d bitten back over the years poured through me and out at Beau.

I wasn’t nearly finished. “Who thought I mattered not because of what I could do, or who I was, or any of that crap. Who not only liked me for me, but also thought I was worthy exactly as I come—pussy and all.” Halfway through my rant, I saw a look of shock and disbelief on his face that made my anger burn into cold and bitter disappointment. “You know what, whatever,” I said, throwing my hand in his face as I turned around. “I’m used to guys letting me down, so just, ugh, whatever.”

I stalked away from him, glad I had my bike and no need to rely on him for anything. What a fucking waste of my time. I just wished it didn’t hurt my chest so much to think about walking away and leaving whatever it was we’d shared behind me.

“Dawson, wait!” He chased after me and clamped his hand around my wrist.

I shook free of his hold. “I’m not even angry at you. Just disappointed with myself.”

“Darlin’, stop.” He shadowed my every step, brushing his hands over my arms, starting at my shoulders before trailing them down to my hands and holding on to coerce me to stop. “Please?”

“Why, Beau? So you can lay on some country charm crap and try to convince me that you’re not like all the others?”

“No, because I upset ya an’ I dunno why. I really wanna know so I don’t do it ag’in.”

I raised a brow at him and fixed him with my best are-you-kidding look.

“I know what I said’s part of it, but that ain’t all of it, is it?”

Why aren’t I just walking away?
I sighed. “Yes. No. Ugh, maybe. It’s just . . . well, do you know how many times I’ve heard things like that in my life? Like every little fucking thing I achieve is undermined just because I have a pussy. Oh, you fixed up your bike really well, for a girl. Oh, you can ride hard, for a girl. Oh, your track record is great, for a girl.” I growled. “I can outride, outdrive, and out-mechanic more than half of the guys I know”—with each “out” I poked his chest—“and yet it’s always written off as being good ‘for a girl’ or expected because of my father. How would you like every single damned achievement you’ve ever had reduced to that?”

“I’m guessin’ it ain’t great.”

“Give the genius a gold fucking star.”

“Dawson?”

“What?”

“I think you’re pretty danged perfect, and I’m kinda glad you’re a girl.”

His statement was clearly intended to draw a smile, but it wasn’t that easy for me to let go of my anger. “Don’t, Beau. I don’t need compliments and platitudes. That’s not why I’m upset.”

“Am I right in guessin’ this is part of the reason you’re here in the States?” He frowned and then reached for my hands again. Even though part of me wanted to pull away, I didn’t. Mostly because he wasn’t trying to talk over me to tell me that I was being ridiculous like so many others had when I’d raised the issue. In fact, he seemed to want to understand.