Phobic (Phoebe Reede: The Untold Story #2) Read online

  PHOBIC

  #2

  MICHELLE IRWIN

  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER ONE- HOW IT ENDS

  CHAPTER TWO- TRAPED

  CHAPTER THREE- FREE TO BE ME

  CHAPTER FOUR- MEET AND GREET

  CHAPTER FIVE- CLOSE CALL

  CHAPTER SIX- PARTY ON

  CHAPTER SEVEN- RIDE ALONG

  CHAPTER EIGHT- RESPONSIBILITIES

  CHAPTER NINE- WOULD YOU LIKE FRIES WITH THAT?

  CHAPTER TEN- ON THE ROAD

  CHAPTER ELEVEN- EASY FIX

  CHAPTER TWELVE- CALL FROM HOME

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN- JUST FRIENDS

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN- GET COMFORTABLE

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN- COLD COMFORT

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN- DATE NIGHT

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN- I'LL BE ALONE FOR CHRISTMAS

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN- GRAND PROBLEMS

  CHAPTER NINETEEN- HE LOVES ME

  CHAPTER TWENTY- HE LOVES ME NOT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE- OLD FRIENDS

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO- REUNITED

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE- MINI BREAK

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR- GEORGIA GIRL

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE- SWEETEST SERENADE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX- TOO MANY BOOKS

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN- HOME RUN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT- DRUNK ON YOU

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE- BETRAYED BY LOVE

  CHAPTER THIRTY- BABY MAMA

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE- UP THE CREEK

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO- SAYING GOODBYE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE- BETTER TOGTHER

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR- WHAT HE WANTS

  COPYRIGHT

  Copyright © 2016 by Michelle Irwin

  First Edition November 2016

  Published in Australia

  Print ISBN:

  Cover Artist: Pink Ink Design

  Cover content used for illustrative purposes only, and any person depicted is a model.

  Editing by: Hot Tree Editing

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to an actual person, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental. The following story is set in Australia and therefore has been written in UK/Australian English. The spelling and usage reflect that.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and for all other inquiries, contact:

  Michelle Irwin P O Box 671 MORAYFIELD QLD 4506 AUSTRALIA

  www.michelle-irwin.com

  [email protected]

  To my new super-stalker, Camille, thank you for proving that I can write characters people get fanatical about.

  This part of Phoebe’s story is for you.

  Note: This book has an Australia main character, as such it uses Australian/UK spelling and some Australian slang. Although you should be able to understand the novel without a glossary, there is always fun to be had in learning new words. Generally, temperatures are in Celsius, weight is in kilograms, and distance is (generally) in kilometres (although we still have some slang which uses miles).

  Arse: Ass.

  Bench: Counter.

  Bitumen: Asphalt.

  Bonnet: Hood.

  Boot: Trunk.

  Bottle-o: Bottle shop/liquor store.

  CAMS: Confederation of Australian Motor Sport.

  Cock-ups: Fuck-ups/mistakes.

  Dob: Tell on.

  Doona: Blanket/comforter.

  Face Washer: Face cloth.

  Fairy-Floss: Cotton candy.

  Footpath: Sidewalk.

  Fours: Cars with a four-cylinder engine.

  Fringe: Bangs

  Gobful: Mouthful

  HANS: Head And Neck Support/system. A device used to support the racer’s neck while driving.

  Message bank: Voicemail.

  Out on the Piss: Out drinking.

  Newsagency: A shop which sells newspapers/magazines/lotto tickets. Similar to a convenience store, but without the food.

  Pap: Paparazzi.

  Panadol/Paracetamol: Active ingredient in pain-relievers like Tylenol and Panadol.

  Phone/Mobile Phone/Mobile Number: Cell/cell phone/cell number.

  Real Estate: All-inclusive term meaning real estate agency/property management firm.

  Rego: Registration (general); cost of vehicle licence.

  S bends (and into the Dipper): Part of the racetrack shaped into an S shape. On Bathurst track, the Dipper is the biggest of the S bends, so called because there used to be a dip in the road there before track resurfacing made it safer.

  Shout (referring to drinks or food): Buy for someone. “Get the tab.”

  Silly Season: Off season in sports. Primarily where most of the trades happen (e.g. driver’s moving teams, sponsorship changes etc).

  Skerrick: Scrap.

  Slicks: A special type of racing tyre with no tread. They’re designed to get the maximum amount of surface on the road at all times. Wet weather tyres have chunky tread to displace the water from the track.

  Skulled: (can also be spelled sculled and skolled) Chugged/Drank everything in the bottle/glass.

  Soft Drinks: Soda/pop.

  Stiff Shit: Tough shit/too bad.

  Sunnies: Sunglasses.

  Taxi: Cab.

  Tossers: Pricks/assholes/jerks.

  Tyres: Tires.

  Year Twelve: Senior.

  Wag: Ditch school.

  Wank: Masturbate

  Wankers: Tossers/Jerk-offs.

  Weet-Bix: Breakfast cereal brand.

  Whinge: Whine/complain.

  Uni: University/college.

  MY LIFE WAS a fairy tale.

  Not the beginning of a fairy tale when things are going bad and everything appears grim, but the end where everything couldn’t get better. The once upon a time, a princess met a prince, they fell in love and lived happily ever after part.

  Or so I’d thought.

  That had all come crashing down on me days before the dream was realised. Everyone around me had put so much effort into seeing me get my fairy tale ending that I couldn’t admit to them that it’d become a nightmare. That was why when I arrived in Mooresville, North Carolina, I was still recovering from my flight. During the journey, I’d had no sleep. Instead, I’d spent most of the time trying to cry the heartbreak out of me.

  It hadn’t worked.

  Just days earlier, I’d left Brisbane—everything I’d ever known—behind to start a twelve-and-a-bit-month career in America racing stock cars. I’d said goodbye to Mum and Dad, to all my siblings, and to Max, the son of my parents’ best friends, who had been staying with us for a little while. The last one was an awkward goodbye because my easy friendship with the kid—who was five years younger than me—had recently been rocked by revelations of his crush on me. That, and the discovery of his desire to explore his own body to photos of me.

  The day before my flight had been a bittersweet event, with all of our family and friends descending on our house for a joint bon voyage for me and first birthday party for my baby sister. It was a birthday we’d all worried she might not make after being diagnosed with a hole in her heart before birth.

  Regardless, I was ready to do two things: meet my new racing team and prepare for a fiery reunion with my would-be prince—now ex-boyfriend—Beauregard Miller, when we met again for the first race of th
e season in the new year. The way he’d left me—telling me I wasn’t the only one during a Skype call—had inspired me to continue with my plan for the trip. To take the fight to him for the way he’d treated me.

  Despite the fact that it might have been less painful for me if he’d physically ripped my heart out with his teeth and squashed it beneath one of his cowboy boots, I was determined to be stronger when we met again. If he thought Phoebe Reede was a pushover, he was mistaken. If I let him get away with it, how many other innocent young girls would he shatter with his callous deeds?

  And if I couldn’t make him see the error of his philandering ways, then I would at least show him he’d fucked with the wrong girl.

  Even though he was the reason I was in the States, I wasn’t looking forward to our reunion. Or to looking into his chocolate and amber eyes and reliving the moment he told me I was nothing more than one of many. A temporary fling that I’d thought had been special for both of us.

  I spent my first day in the new country trying to catch up on some sleep. The following morning, I was finally ready to head into my new workplace to meet the team. I pulled my hire car into the car park in front of the squat administration building and headed inside to meet my new bosses.

  Working to someone else’s schedule was going to take some getting used to. An adventure in itself. Not that I wasn’t used to hard work, but Mum and Dad never put too much pressure on me, or most of the staff really. All that mattered was that everything was done when it was needed.

  After our greeting, my new boss, Mr Dale Richards, sat me down for a while to explain how everything was set up, and how it would work in practise.

  Effectively, Mum and Dad had leased one of Richards Racing’s cars to be mine. Richards Racing would charge Emmanuel Racing for rent and staff, but other than that, it was up to me to keep things running. Mum had explained it to me when I’d signed the contracts initially, but hearing it all from a stranger when I was so far from home—from every comfortable thing I’d known—made it real. Although Mum didn’t say it in so many words, it sounded as though the team had agreed after suffering from a couple of setbacks that had seen them struggle. The Fleur Amelia sponsorship Mum had secured would give the team a much-needed cash injection and put them back in the black.

  From Mum and Dad’s side, it was a way to get Emmanuel into the scene without the upfront cost of buying a car. A lower risk way to expand—something they’d done before. The difference was that I’d never been in charge of any of those expansions; I’d never had anywhere near that level of responsibility. I swallowed down my fear and nodded. At least I had a race manager and support team behind me. Dad was evidence of what someone could achieve with the right team behind them. And I didn’t know nearly enough about the particular style of motorsport to do it solo.

  “It’ll be a good idea to get acquainted with everyone,” Mr Richards continued. “Even though we are technically two teams, the guys are so used to the way things were it’ll be easier to work closely with each other to ensure the job gets done.”

  “Sounds good to me,” I said with a smile, more than willing to accept the help.

  After that, he led me around the building and introduced me to the office staff. We went through accounting and support before moving onto the PR department. He was about to take me down to the garages when he got a phone call he’d apparently been waiting for.

  “Did you want to wait and I’ll take you down when I’m finished?”

  I waved him off and offered another smile. “It’s okay, I’m sure I can find my way around.” I was used to introducing myself around new places. With Dad’s job and notoriety, I had to be. Especially after I started going on the road with him for races.

  “Terrific. It’s great having you on board, Miss Reede.” He extended his hand to me again.

  “Please, just call me Phoebe,” I said as I shook his hand once more.

  He grinned at me before rushing back to his office.

  I wound my way down toward the garages, introducing myself to people as I went. Some were friendly and wanted to talk about my accent and my home; others gave me the cold shoulder and went about their day. I didn’t worry too much about it though; we had a good fourteen months to get acquainted. And some people were just less outgoing naturally. It never took me too long to get to know everyone. It was exhausting and a little overwhelming having to meet so many all at once though.

  By the time I walked into the break room near the garages, I was more than ready to stop and have a sit down. Maybe a drink.

  When I got near the door, I heard a rush of angry murmurs coming from within. I debated walking straight past and coming back later when it wasn’t as busy, but before I could, the noise stopped and every eye in the room turned to glare at me. Every person shot daggers in my direction. It was something I hadn’t encountered since high school, whenever I returned from a few days away for a race. Just like it always had then, my heart beat a little faster and my palms grew clammy. Unlike then, I didn’t have my best friend, Angel, reminding me it was okay to tell them all to shove their attitude.

  I was certain my initial read of the situation was just first day nerves reading the worst. It’s not high school, and they’re probably just trying to figure out why you’re standing in the doorway.

  Swallowing down my nerves at their unfriendly stares, I stepped into the room. I tucked one hand in my jeans pocket and gave a small wave with the other. “Hi, I’m—”

  “Phoebe Reede. Yeah, we all know who you are,” one of the guys said in an accent that to my ear was so damn similar to Beau’s it almost brought me to my knees. Only he seemed to twang the words that Beau drawled. There was something familiar about him, but I couldn’t figure out where I might know him from.

  “The track princess, whose daddy bought her position in a car,” someone else added.

  “Not giving a shit who she squeezed out in the process,” a third piped in.

  My breath left me as I looked around at the glares on everyone’s faces. It wasn’t just first day nerves—there was genuine hatred there.

  “Luckily, Cash has a little time up his sleeve.” The second guy spoke once more.

  My stomach churned. Mum and Dad would never have put me into a car if it involved pushing out a driver at their peak, I was sure of it. “Squeezed out? I didn’t squeeze anyone out. I was offered a position.”

  “Tell that to Cash.” The voice behind me was too familiar, but the hatred in it was something I’d not heard in person. I closed my eyes briefly as my heart dropped. I tried to comprehend what was happening, but I couldn’t.

  “Beau?” I spun on my heels even as his name poured from me. I wasn’t ready to see him, not in the slightest. My easy day of meeting the crew I’d be trusting with my life had quickly turned into something out of a nightmare.

  Even though my heart raced, the name of the driver I’d apparently displaced smashed together with something Beau had said on the night we’d met. Cash. Beau’s buddy. The owner of the helmet Beau had worn on our bike ride through the hills in Sacramento. Fuck. That’s where I knew the guy at the table from.

  Against my better judgement, my gaze travelled over Beau’s face and down his body. He was as devastatingly attractive as I remembered him. His sandy-brown hair was a little longer than it had been, and the added length made it curl slightly at the ends. The muscles under his shirt were as defined as ever and I was certain if I closed my eyes, my mind would assault me with memories of the smattering of hair over his chest and another that ran in a happy trail from his belly button and down to his . . .

  I snapped my eyes back up before he caught me looking at his groin. The last thing I needed was for him to know how close to the surface the memory of him—of us—danced in my mind. It was almost too painful to keep my eyes on him, but more horrific to think of turning away.

  While I fought to hold myself upright despite my racing heart and shaking legs, he leaned casually against the doorframe, as
if he didn’t have a care in the world. His other arm was slung around the waist of another woman. Her, I recognised immediately. She was the one who’d interrupted our penultimate Skype date with her spoonful of chocolate batter. The same one who’d chewed me out when I’d called back the next day.

  When she saw that she had my attention, she offered me a smile—the only one in the whole room. With her honey-blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail, she gave off a sporty vibe. Her fringe hung loose, framing her heart-shaped face.

  “Howdy,” she said with an almost friendly air—miles away from the tone she’d used when we’d last spoken. Maybe because she’d won. She got the man, and I got the heartache.

  My own voice stuck in my throat and I couldn’t utter a single word. It took everything I had just to stay upright and keep breathing.

  “Phoebe, I don’t believe you’ve had the pleasure of formally meetin’ Cassidee,” Beau said, his voice pulling my gaze back to him. Everything in me was so off-kilter, it was impossible not to fall into the vacuum surrounding him. I couldn’t turn away from him if I’d wanted to. “My fiancée.”

  The air left my lungs and I wanted to double over in shock. I locked my body in place so I didn’t fall to my feet. “F-fiancée?”

  I wanted to demand all of the details, or for him to tell me it was just a joke. It’d been less than three weeks since we’d broken up. Three weeks and he was already engaged? Or had he been engaged to her then? His words from that night came back to haunt me: “We’re not exclusive are we, darlin’? We haven’t been from the beginnin’.”

  Clearly she was one of the others he’d been seeing, but had he now decided he wanted her over everyone? Over me? Or was she just the one he always went back to. The one he knew would hang around no matter how many dalliances he had on the side.

  Sniggers started behind me, as if they were all in on some fucking hilarious joke. It made me want to flee, but I stood my ground. I was a Reede after all, and we faced our issues head-on. That didn’t stop tears burning my eyes or my throat closing to the point where I could barely swallow.