Declare (Declan Reede: The Untold Story #4) (5 page)

We had raced out the door with barely a minute to spare. Alyssa had all but thrown Phoebe out of the car at the day care. Maybe that was a slight exaggeration, but we definitely didn’t have the luxury of time to settle her in that we’d had the previous week. As we’d planned, I’d dropped Alyssa off at her job in the city then driven myself to Sinclair Racing.

That afternoon, I ran the same race in reverse; I collected Alyssa in the city before speeding to the day care to pick up Phoebe before they closed at six. We arrived home in an exhausted heap.

I was desperate to have a shower to get the grease and shit from the day off me. Before I’d even hit the first step to go to our en suite, Alyssa declared she would organise dinner, and directed me to please bathe Phoebe while I was upstairs. The notion terrified me, because I’d only ever helped Alyssa out with the bathing arrangements a few times. I’d never been left alone to handle that shit. It was all still a little new and a lot scary. I had managed eventually though, even if Phoebe’s pyjamas had ended up buttoned through the wrong holes, and Alyssa had needed to fix them all before serving the food.

Finally, after wrangling with Phoebe and getting things organised for the next day, Alyssa and I had collapsed into bed, drained and exhausted. I rolled over, pulling her into my arms. Needing her touch, I kissed her forehead once before trailing my attention along her cheek. I captured her mouth with mine.

She kissed me back for less than a second then pulled away from me. She smiled slightly at me before uttering eight little words that ruined my entire evening, “Not tonight, honey. It’s been a long day.”

Fuck me.

The whole week followed the same pattern, except instead of organising things in the morning, we arranged it all the previous night, using those few precious minutes in the morning to sleep in.

All and all, it was a successful week, except for the serious case of blue balls I’d developed. Lack of sex was definitely a form of torture, especially when it was coupled with sleeping next to Alyssa every night.

CHAPTER FOUR: THREE’S A PARTY

“SQUIRT!” MORGAN SHOUTED from the other side of the almost Olympic-sized swimming pool before diving in.

I gave him a wave before leading Phoebe and Alyssa further into the party. Danny and Hazel had given up their backyard for the preseason launch party, just as they did every year. It was great, because the house was enormous, had ample parking on the street and in the drive, a huge swimming pool, a large patio close to the house, and a gazebo near the pool. Why a couple in their early forties with no kids needed that much in their backyard, especially a pool that size, was beyond me, but it did make for a good entertainment venue.

Eden appeared out of thin air and pulled Alyssa and Phoebe off in another direction. I watched as Alyssa walked away, heading toward a group of WAGs. I took a second to admire the outline of her hips, visible through the almost-but-not-quite see-through material of the sarong she was wearing over the top of her black swimmers. I squirmed a little in my boardies because the sight of her arse wiggling was turning me on, and because things had been lacking on that front, I wanted her so fucking badly. I was entranced by her when Sam sidled past me.

He whistled. “Nice legs.”

“Hey, fucker, that’s my girl!” I said.

He laughed. “Who said I was talking about the girl?” he asked before winking at me.

I made a mental note to introduce him to Flynn if the opportunity arose.

Morgan rose out of the water, hoisted himself out of the pool, and walked over to me. When he got close enough, he shook his ridiculous mane of hair over me like a fucking dog, drenching my shirt and boardies.

“Hey, shithead,” he said. “Where’d the little woman go?”

“Your woman bundled her and Pheebs off to chick central.” I nodded in the direction of the girls. The sound of cooing and all the other noises women make when confronted with babies and little children issued from the pack. I shuddered, glad to be able to head off in the opposite direction.

We walked over to the almost car-boot-sized esky, and he bent over into it.

“You want a Pure Blonde?” he asked.

I chuckled. “You offering, beautiful?” I made kissing sounds. “Then again, I wouldn’t say there was anything pure about you.”

“Fuck off!” he exclaimed as he stood. “And just for that, you get a XXXX.”

I wrinkled my nose in disgust, but accepted the beer he threw at me.

“Man, I’ve barely had time to talk to you at work,” he said, cracking open his own. He didn’t mention the fact that we never hung out outside of work, mostly because Alyssa hated him. “What’s this shit about you driving a Mini?”

“You heard about that, huh?” I asked.

Danny had kept the Mini under wraps for as long as he could, because he didn’t want anyone to think I was getting
preferential
treatment—as if being shoved in a four-cylinder tin can was something to crow about.

Like any good secret though, news had spread like wildfire. Especially once the update hit the official website to include the Micro Series logo underneath the ProV8 and Production Series ones. It served as a reminder of the pecking order—as if I didn’t already know that the fucking Mini was going to be putting me at the bottom of the heap, racing wise.

At least I was in a car; that’s what both Alyssa and Dr. Henrikson, my psychiatrist, said I had to keep telling myself.

“Everyone’s heard about it by now,” he said.

“And let me guess, I’m the fucking laughingstock.”

“Nah, man. In fact, I think you’ve even started to win over some of your biggest detractors.”

I scoffed before taking another big swig of my beer. I hadn’t had anything to drink in such a long time it felt like saying hello to an old friend.

“Seriously, man, most everyone I’ve spoken to has agreed that they think it’s gonna be great seeing you back on track. There wasn’t anyone who wanted to see the shit hit the fan like it did.”

I could imagine exactly who the main exception to the “most everyone” was. I could guarantee his name started with a H, and he was a psycho who’d stolen so much that was important to me. I chugged the last of my beer before grabbing another one.

Morgan continued to talk shop, telling me the goss from upstairs, where the drivers, publicists, strategists, and other “important” people worked. I couldn’t believe how long I’d held the same belief, but in my short time with the mechs, I had grown to realise that the people on inflated salaries were no more important than the lowest apprentice. After all, the promoters signed the sponsors, and without the money there would be no car, but without a decent driver and a well-maintained car, the sponsors wouldn’t get their required track time.

It was the circle of life, baby—or at least the circle of racing.

The afternoon passed quickly in a haze of swimming, sun, and booze. I gazed in the direction of Alyssa and the girls regularly to make sure she and Phoebe were having a good time.

Eventually, Morgan and I became surrounded by my crew. Ryan and Calem had clearly decided that knowing me gave them an “in” with Morgan, a reason to shoot the shit with him—something that would generally never happen—and they used it to their full advantage. Although it could have been seen to be opportunistic and maybe should have pissed me off, it didn’t. It made me feel somewhat important to be the bridge between the two worlds.

By the time the sun was starting to set, I figured it had been a while since I’d last seen Alyssa and decided to go look for her. As I stood, my head spun a little from the alcohol and sun. I hadn’t realised quite how much I’d had to drink. It made me a little unsteady on my feet as I staggered off toward the last place I’d seen her.

I hunted around the party for a little while. Most of the couples had come back together and paired off, so I couldn’t understand where she could be. Eventually, I spotted her sitting in one of the banana lounges a distance away from everyone else.

She was shaded by the darkness, but it was clear she’d been in the water because the moonlight shone off her wet skin. She’d tied her sarong loosely around her hips, revealing one of her perfect legs right up to her thigh. I licked my lips, longing for a taste of the creamy skin there. I was getting ready to go over to her when I heard her laughter ring out and realised she was talking with someone. I squinted through the darkness to see her companion, expecting to see Eden, or possibly even Hazel, but was instead greeted by the image of Hunter’s dark hair and beady black eyes.

Without thought, I raced over to her.

“What the fuck is going on?” I asked, looking between them for a second before closing my eyes. I tried to do my creative visualisation shit that Dr. Henrikson had been teaching me, but it was doing jack shit when faced with the sight of Alyssa and Hunter having a cosy little chat, face-to-face alone in the fucking dark.

“Declan?” Alyssa asked, sounding surprised.

“Who else would it be, Lys?” I couldn’t stop the anger that infused my voice.

“I’ll leave you two
lovebirds
alone, shall I?” Hunter said, not even attempting to mask his sarcasm. He touched Alyssa’s shoulder, and whispered, “I’ll talk to
you
later.” The innuendo he managed to squeeze into those five words stuck in my craw.

I growled at him, conveying that Alyssa was mine and I was not to be fucked with. I didn’t care what the hell Danny said about being a team and my neck being on the line; if Hunter laid even one finger on Alyssa again, I would break it off. Fucking gladly.

She stood quickly and skipped over to me. “What’s the mat—” She cut herself off. “God, Dec, how much have you had to drink?”

I shook my head. “Doesn’t matter. What matters is you going off into a fucking secluded area with a man who wants nothing more than to devour you.”

“Please,” Alyssa snapped, the sarcastic tone in her voice clear and undisguised. “We were talking, that’s all.”

“Don’t be so fucking naive, Lys.”

“Naive?” She raised her eyebrow. “You think I’m naive?”

“Yeah, I do. Especially if you think Hunter wanted to do anything other than to corner you in a dark place and fuck you stupid.”

She stepped back from me. “How stupid do you think I am, Dec?” she spat before turning away.

I reached out for her arm just before she disappeared, grabbing hold so she didn’t walk away. I didn’t want a repeat of New Year’s. “Alyssa, wait!”

“Why?”

“Because . . . I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have reacted like that.”

She stopped.

“But I do know that he just wanted to bend you over and screw you.”

“Oh, you read minds, do you?” The bitter tone in her voice was hard to ignore, and ignited its counterpart in me.

“No, of course not,” I snapped back. “But I know the look in his eye and the tone in his voice. He’s scum, Lys.”

“And how would you know that, Dec?” she asked.

“Because I used to have the same look in my eye and the same tone in my voice. I used to be scum, until I found you again.”

She huffed but didn’t say anything else.

“Lys,” I said, trying to fill my voice with a calm that I didn’t feel. I still wanted to go track Hunter down and give him a blow-by-blow on what would happen should he come near Alyssa again, but I needed to fix things first. “I’m sorry. This is supposed to be a party. Can we just forget it and have a good time?” Thinking of having fun reminded me of the missing person in our little party of three. “Where’s Phoebe?” I asked, knowing Alyssa wouldn’t have just left her alone or with anyone she didn’t know.

Alyssa gave a heavy sigh, turned on the spot, and walked off without another word. The set of her jaw and her heavy breathing were like a neon warning sign that I’d overstepped the mark and made her mad.

No, she was more than mad; she was fucking pissed off.

She grabbed something off a small plastic table beside the banana lounge and began to stalk off. I followed her instinctively.

“Alyssa? What the fuck is wrong?” I demanded when she refused to acknowledge me behind her as she walked toward the house.

She whirled on me. “I really shouldn’t have to explain it to you!”

I laughed disbelievingly. “Didn’t we just fucking work out that I’m not actually able to read minds?”

She sighed. “It’s nothing.” She turned and started walking again.

“No, fuck that.” I reached for her arm. “I know it’s not nothing. So spit it out.”

When she turned back to me, tears filled her eyes. The sight left me instantly disarmed.

“I came here to support you today, because I wanted to show everyone that we’re a family. That we’re strong. A united front.”

“Yeah, and I appreciate that,” I whispered, pulling her in to me.

She let loose a sob. “I’ve barely seen you all day. I don’t know anyone else here. At Hazel’s insistence, I put Phoebe to bed in the main house, and then I was alone. I couldn’t see you in the throng of people who surrounded you. Then when you finally bother to try to find me, the first thing you do is accuse me of trying to run off or something with the one person who actually made the effort to come over and talk to me while the rest of you boys were doing whatever the fuck it was you were doing.”

“What do you want from me?” I asked.

“A little support and some trust.”

I had to make her see that I trusted her—it was the snake in the grass, Hunter, I didn’t trust. “Baby, do you know that when I was . . .” I didn’t think bringing up a reminder of my past would be the wisest thing at that moment. “Well,
before,
I didn’t give a shit who someone came to a party with? Only who they left with.”

Which was usually me.

“What’s your point?” she asked, growing angry again.

I knew I had to be careful stepping around the minefield she was slowly laying out. If I didn’t catch shit for the Hunter thing, then it would be for leaving her alone. If I managed to sidestep that devastation, it would be my past that would blow up in my face. But I could see those things coming—what would really set me on my arse were the bombs I didn’t expect.

“I love you and you’re mine.”

“Yours?” she repeated, rolling the word around on her tongue. “Like a piece of furniture? To be paraded around as needed and then dumped when it suits you?” She pushed away from me.

Damn!
”You know I don’t think of you like that,” I growled. “You and Phoebe are everything to me.”

“Whatever,” she muttered, turning away again.

Fuck!
”No, not whatever!” I exclaimed. I grabbed her arm and pulled her roughly against me. To silence her argument, and show her the truth, I kissed her. Hard. Without giving her a chance to resist, I pushed my tongue against her lips and demanded entry. She stiffened at first, her hands pressing against my chest to push me off, but after a beat she responded as I’d hoped she would. She relaxed into me, and her own tongue snaked forward to meet mine.

We moaned with desire in unison. It had been too long. Far too long. My hair trigger was back in force, and my dick was pressing hard against her thigh, with only the material of my board shorts separating us. She hitched one leg around my waist, and I supported her weight with my hands. With her in my arms, I staggered forward until we hit the house. Pressed hard against her, my head swum from the heady combination of Alyssa and alcohol.