Summer Escape with the Tycoon

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.”

“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.”