Summer Escape with the Tycoon Page 7

  She stuck her paddle in the water and pushed, but had the blade the wrong way and only succeeded in turning herself sideways. Then when she leaned forward to compensate, she felt the boat shift. Once more she threw her weight to the side, and that was when it happened. Over she went, under the water, her feet in the cockpit of the kayak, the skirting tucked around her and the image of a three-ton mammal passing below her lodged in her brain.

  She began to flail, but the boat didn’t right itself.

  It was hard to hold her breath when panic filled her chest. If she couldn’t get flipped back over, she would open her mouth and take in water and drown. Or she’d get bumped by the whale and injured and—OMG, OMG, OMG...

  Suddenly she was pulled out of the water, the kayak righted, and Shawn had a firm grip on her life jacket. “Breathe,” he commanded. “You’re okay.”

  But she wasn’t. Inside she was falling apart.

  Everyone was looking at her and she couldn’t even put on a mask to show she was all right. She shook all over. She was wet and her legs were stiff and she couldn’t breathe.

  Shawn still held her jacket. “I’ve got you. You’re okay. Bend forward and breathe as deeply as you can. You’re okay.”

  She hadn’t had a panic attack since eighth grade, but the feeling was familiar and terrifying. Gray spots floated in front of her eyes as she tried and failed to slow her breath, and the muscles in her legs twitched but wouldn’t release. She was right-side up but she could still picture the whale going under and where was it now and...

  “Slow, deep breaths. You’re fine. We’re all fine. Nothing is going to happen now. Just take your time, listen to my voice and know that it’s going to be all right.”

  Eric’s deep voice came from beside her, and two tears slid down her cheeks. She still had her head down, so she knew he couldn’t see them, but her relief at hearing his voice was profound.

  “Where did they go?”

  He knew exactly what she meant. “They’re out farther now. You’re okay. Everyone’s okay.” He reached for one of her hands and settled it between his. “Keep breathing.”

  The touch of his fingers on her hand was a lifeline. She didn’t know where Shawn had gone but that was okay. Slowly her breathing eased and the cramp in her lungs abated. The gray spots disappeared from her vision and she lifted her head, feeling fragile but no longer like she was going to pass out.

  And embarrassed. So very embarrassed.

  “There you are,” he said quietly. “Better?”

  She nodded. “Feel stupid.”

  He smiled softly and shrugged. “No one’s perfect.”

  But she was supposed to be. Since she was five, she’d followed instructions. Done what was expected. Then these things didn’t happen. Even as she thought it, she realized how impossible it sounded. Real life wasn’t like that.

  “After years of thinking I had to be, it’s a tough adjustment,” she replied, wishing she could get her legs out of the cockpit and massage the muscles that had cramped.

  It was only then that she realized Shawn was still beside them. “Molly, we can pull in and switch some pairings around so you’re in a double for the rest of the way back to camp. You might be more comfortable with that.”

  And more conspicuous, and what a pain when they were this close to being “home.”

  “I can do it,” she said, her voice sounding more confident than she felt. “It’s not far. I can see the camp from here.” Not well, but she could see the cookshack structure and the faint dots of the colored tents through the trees.

  “You’re sure?”

  “I’ll paddle beside you,” Eric said. “Like a wingman.”

  She wasn’t about to refuse that offer. “Okay,” she answered, and Shawn handed her the paddle that she’d let go of when she’d capsized.

  The group was rather quiet as they made their way back to camp, and once they were on the shore, several people came to check on her, which made her feel both foolish and also cared for. She told each that she was fine, but what she really wanted was to go to her tent and decompress. Change into dry clothes and figure out what the heck was wrong with her.

  Eric hovered, and she needed him to not. Because if she was going to fall apart again, she wanted to do it in private.

  “I’m going to change,” she said to him, not quite meeting his gaze. “I’m wet and I’m going to be cold in this wind if I don’t get into something dry.”

  “Of course. You’re okay?”

  “I’m fine. I’ll see you at dinner.”

  She made her way to her tent and quickly changed out of her wet clothes into dry ones, including a fleece-lined sweater that she’d brought along for cooler nights. A woman’s voice outside asked if she wanted first crack at the shower, which she gratefully took, even though showering outside was a bit of an adventure in itself and out of her comfort zone. She went back to her tent and hung up her clothes to dry, and then it was time to gather for dinner. All the while she went through the motions, avoiding thinking too much about the panic attack and what had caused it. As far as the group went, they’d all see Molly smiling and perfectly fine after the incident. Because that was what she wanted them to see.

  She went to bed early, hoping to sleep off the last dregs of adrenaline. She slept right in her leggings and sweater, tucked into her sleeping bag on the camp mattress. It took a while for her to drift off, but her body was so exhausted from the day of paddling and the rush of the panic attack that she finally closed her eyes and fell into slumber.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  ERIC COULDN’T SLEEP.

  He kept seeing Molly’s face over and over in his mind. He’d watched her flip, then started paddling closer as Shawn had expertly helped her right-side up. But the sheer panic and fear was etched on his brain. He remembered that look, the shallow breathing and the inability to think straight. Seeing Molly go through it brought it all back to him, when he’d been a boy and helpless to help his mother deal with the grief and stress of being abandoned.

  Molly had paddled the rest of the way back on her own, and he was damn proud of her for that. And she’d changed, gone to dinner, eaten. And yet somehow he got the impression that she had been just going through the motions. That she wasn’t as okay as she seemed.

  He turned over onto his side and let out a sigh. When closing his eyes seemed impossible, he got up and quietly exited his tent, using a small flashlight to make his way to her platform. He just wanted to check to see if she was all right. Everyone else here had a partner. They weren’t alone. She was. And today she’d been deathly afraid.

  He got to her tent and clicked off his light, not wanting to wake her if she actually had managed to go to sleep. He waited a few minutes, pleased when nothing but silence came from within. And he was just about ready to turn away when an odd sound came from inside.

  He froze, listening harder. The sound got louder, too. A strangled, choking sound and fast breathing. A thump as if something had hit the wooden bed frame. Heart in his throat, he stepped up to the zippered door.

  “Molly?”

  Another groan and cough and he spoke a little louder. “Molly? Are you okay?”

  Abrupt silence, then a forced “I’m fine.”

  And he might have believed her if she hadn’t had this little hiccup at the end that told him she was crying.

  “I’m coming in.” He unzipped the door and stepped inside. It was still dark, so he clicked on his light again but turned it toward the floor, so the light wasn’t directly in her face. He could see her eyes, though, huge and luminous in the pale light. Her face was streaked with tears, which she scrubbed away quickly.

  He went to her side and sat on the edge of her bed. “Nightmare?” he asked softly.

  She nodded, let out a deep breath.

  “You’re not panicking now, though. That’s good.”
<
br />   “My heart’s beating out of my chest.”

  He was tempted to see if it was true, but touching her right now would be wrong. Not when she was vulnerable and scared. And yet he couldn’t do nothing. He reached out and wiped some moisture off her cheek with his thumb. “You held up like a champ all evening. But when we sleep, our barriers are down.”

  She nodded. “Yeah. I’m sorry. You should go back to bed.”

  “Not until I make sure you’re all right. The dream sounded rough.”

  A mortified expression swept over her face. “Oh, God. Do you think anyone else heard?”

  He shook his head. “I couldn’t sleep and came over to check on you. It was all quiet until just before I came in.” They were talking in low voices, barely over a whisper. “I wanted to wake you before it got too bad.”

  Her exhalation was shaky. “It was bad enough. There’s something that’s been bothering me for so long. My thing with snorkeling and the flipping over—it all has to do with being underwater and not being able to breathe. All my life I stuck to swimming pools, to wading at the beach but not really swimming, doing the boat thing instead of snorkeling on family vacays and just telling myself it was a preference and I wasn’t really afraid. As much as I’ve tried to block it out or rationalize it away, it’s still there. It’s not a dream. It’s a memory.”

  “What happened?”

  “I got caught in a riptide at the beach and couldn’t get back to shore. A wave came and I went under, and I couldn’t shout, and I didn’t think anyone noticed. I had to fight so hard to get back to the surface again. I knew I was going to drown.”

  “How old were you?”

  “Five.”

  Five years old and afraid of drowning. “It would explain a lot. Then what happened?”

  “I was rescued. My brother rescued me, because he was already a strong swimmer and I hadn’t stayed close to the shore like I promised.” She shuddered all over. “I can still feel the water pulling me under, and coughing when I bobbed up again. Today...the whales were getting so close. And one went under and I tried to move to get farther away and then everything went...hinky and I ended up upside down. I couldn’t get turned around and all I could think of was what if the whale was beneath me and my head was right there...”

  Her breath was coming fast again. “I know it sounds ridiculous—”

  “But the fear is real,” he said, finishing for her. “Doesn’t matter if it’s rational or not. Fear is fear. I’m so sorry, Molly.”

  “It’s not your fault. I’m just so glad you were there. You knew exactly what I needed to start breathing again.”

  He rubbed his hand over hers. “Well, it’s not my first experience with panic attacks. My mom had them for a while after my dad left. I think dealing with everything as well as raising three boys took its toll.” He thought back to those days and felt a pang of regret. He hadn’t always been the easiest kid to raise. “When Mom had one, I learned not to hug because it was too confining and claustrophobic. But she liked a point of contact, so a hand on her arm or leg let her know someone was there. And for me to talk to her.”

  “That’s rough on a kid.”

  Not as rough as losing his father had been, but he simply shrugged. “She’s my mom. I love her. I could be a real handful, but I’m also the oldest. My brothers called me the Golden Boy.” He grinned a little. “They weren’t really wrong.”

  “You looked after her.”

  “I tried. My dad...he got into a lot of debt and then took off, leaving my mom to clean up his mess and with three boys to raise. I tried to step up and do whatever I could to help.”

  He still did. His mom wouldn’t take a lot of his money, but at least she lived mortgage-free now, in a tidy little bungalow rather than the house where they’d grown up. His brothers made sure she had decent wheels through the dealership. Materially she was in good shape. But he missed her. Their relationship had become strained, too.

  They sat for a few more minutes before Eric asked, “Are you feeling better now?”

  “Yes, thanks.”

  She said the words, but he wasn’t quite convinced. There was a hesitation to them that told him she wasn’t okay but wouldn’t ask for help. “Are you really? Or are you afraid of having the nightmare again?”

  She laughed nervously. “Am I that transparent?”

  “Yes.” And then he chuckled, and she laughed a little in return, the soft sound reaching in and waking something in him that had been dormant a long time.

  He got up and as carefully as possible moved the empty bed in the tent over, so it was right up next to hers. He didn’t have his sleeping bag, but he didn’t care. He lay down on the mattress and shifted to his side, facing her. “Is this okay? I promise I’ll stay on my side. But you won’t have to be alone.”

  “You don’t have any covers.”

  “I’m in sweats and a hoodie. I’m fine.”

  She rolled to her side. He’d turned off his light and the tent was pitch-black, so he could barely even make out her form in the darkness. It lent an intimacy to the moment that made his breath catch in his throat.

  She reached out and touched his arm, then followed his arm down to his wrist and then hand, twining her fingers with his. “Thank you, Eric. For helping me today. For being here tonight.”

  “My pleasure,” he replied gruffly.

  He’d been married to Murielle for six years. Dated her for two before that, after meeting her through mutual friends. He’d been a typical guy in college and he’d dated as much as anyone. But this sweet interaction affected him as deeply as any of his previous relationships, including his marriage. And he’d known Molly less than a week. How could that be?

  He stayed awake until Molly’s breathing evened out and the grip on his hand eased. Then he finally drifted off to sleep.

  * * *

  When Molly woke, she discovered Eric snuggled tightly against her on the single bed, the second bed he’d pulled over next to hers now empty. He was still outside her sleeping bag, dressed in his sweats and hoodie, but he must have got cold in the night and moved closer for body heat.

  Not that she was complaining. His arm was draped over her ribs possessively, his thighs next to hers. It had been a long, long time since she’d awakened next to a man, and it made her want to move closer. To unzip the sleeping bag and remove some of the barriers between them.

  It also made her think of the night before, and the horrible nightmare, and how he’d been there to hold her hand and talk her through it. Just as bad as the near drowning, had been remembering the rescue. How unfair that she’d been saved only two months before Jack had been taken from them.

  Eric sighed in his sleep and tenderness washed over her. He wasn’t just incredibly sexy; he was a good man underneath. The story about how he’d helped his mother after his dad had left said a lot about the man he was.

  Morning light filtered through the fabric of the tent, and when Molly shifted a little, Eric’s eyelids fluttered open. They met hers for a moment, and her heart gave a solid whomp against her ribs at the connection that flowed between them. She liked him, sure, but there was also this elemental attraction that she kept trying to ignore but refused to be locked away. He lifted his hand and put it against her cheek and she closed her eyes for a moment, lost in the tenderness of the touch.

  “Did you sleep?” he asked, his voice rough from disuse.

  She nodded. “Much better, after...”

  A small smile curved his lips. “Sorry about the close quarters. I got cold.”

  “You didn’t need to stay,” she said, though she was incredibly glad he had.

  “Yeah, I did.” He moved his hand off her ribs, and she suddenly felt a little bit cool from the lack of contact and the weight of his palm on her sleeping bag.

  “Well, thank you. I slept better with you here, for sure. No
more nightmares.”

  “That’s good.” They were practically whispering, even though there wasn’t a sound from the other campers. “I should go, though. Because, you know.”

  “Because someone might see you leaving my tent?”

  “Yeah. That.” He smiled wider. “We keep telling people there’s nothing going on, but...”

  “Yeah. We seem to keep ending up together.”

  Eric leaned forward and, to her great surprise, kissed her forehead. “I’m gonna go before I do give them something to talk about. Are you okay to paddle today?”

  She wasn’t, but she’d figure it out. She also knew the important thing was to get back in the boat. “I’ll be fine.”

  “Okay. I’ll see you at breakfast.”

  He slid off the bed and stood, then stretched, moving his arms out to the side instead of up in the air, where they would have touched the top of the tent dome. Then with a wink, he slipped into his sandals, unzipped the flap and disappeared.

  Molly flipped to her back and stared at the ceiling. There was something going on between them, and it wasn’t just friendship and comfort. The big question was, what did she want to do about it? And were they possibly on the same page?

  * * *

  They avoided making eye contact during breakfast, but when they arrived on the beach to get ready for the day’s trip, Shawn approached. “Hey, you two. I thought maybe today you’d like to go in a two-seater. It’s a little more stable and we were thinking it might make you a little more comfortable, Molly.”