He stayed quiet, knowing better than to push her further, but her revelation certainly roused more questions for him.
“You’re curious about the cause of my panic attacks.”
“That’s your business to share if you wish.”
“Thank you. I appreciate your sensitivity on the subject—and the fact you don’t have a horrified expression on your face means a lot to me.”
“I’m glad I passed your test.” He found himself looking toward Paige, grateful to know the full extent of the dog’s purpose.
She laughed slightly. “I didn’t think of it as a test, but I guess maybe it was, subconsciously.”
She turned to face him and continued, “The anxiety attacks started young, with those times we were homeless. There were some hairy situations in shelters and even with some of my mom’s boyfriends. And then—” she swallowed hard before pressing ahead “—I had a boyfriend in college who didn’t like it when I told him we were through. He stalked me afterward, even after restraining orders and jail time.”
Paige whimpered, then inched over to rest her head on the side of the spa tub in a sign of comfort Trystan now fully recognized. The realization of what she’d gone through sucker punched him.
Ah hell. He wished he’d known Isabeau then, that he could have somehow been there to protect her. “That’s the reason you moved to Alaska.”
“Yes. Even though I feel safer here, the jumpiness and the fears that spiral into anxiety still linger.” She draped a hand over the side of the spa tub and stroked her dog’s head. “Paige senses when those panic attacks are coming on. She does things like pressure therapy against my leg to alert and relax me. In a situation where I’m feeling crowded, smothered even, by crowds, I may give her the ‘space’ command. She’ll walk a circle around me, which keeps people back. In a restaurant, I’ll tell her to ‘watch my six.’ She faces the other way, watching behind me and lets me know if anyone is approaching me.”
“That’s really amazing.” The connection between her and her dog had never appeared stronger to him than right now.
“She is my lifeline in so many ways.”
“I never would have guessed she was doing double duty.”
“That’s the whole idea, that she inconspicuously does her job and hopefully catches an issue before it becomes a major incident. If possible.”
He couldn’t miss the trust it took for her to reveal the deeper truth behind her dog. “I appreciate your sharing this with me.”
“You keep talking about wanting a relationship of some sort.” She paused, staring down at her fingers as they combed through the shallow water. “And I need for you to understand things are very complicated with me.”
He stayed right where he was, but locked his gaze with hers. “I hear you. And I’m not deterred.”
Somehow that look felt as intimate as any kiss. Something had changed between them, something he hadn’t anticipated and wasn’t completely sure he understood—
His cell phone chimed from across the room and Isabeau startled.
He shook his head, damning the device. “Ignore it.”
“You should—”
The ringing stopped.
“See,” he said, “no chime for a message. Must not have been important.”
The ringing started again.
“Really, Trystan,” she said, rising from the pool lounger, the sight of her curves in a sleek emerald one-piece ramping up his pulse. “You should get it.”
She tugged on the fluffy robe and he surrendered.
For now.
He hefted himself from the water, grabbing a towel on the way to his phone. He snatched his cell from the patio table and saw his brother Chuck’s number.
“Yeah,” Trystan barked. “What’s going on?”
“Sorry to call so late, but there’s been an accident at one of our pipeline construction sites.”
“Damn.” Trystan said under his breath, tucking the phone between his chin and shoulder as he wrapped the towel around his waist. “Was anyone hurt?”
“Minor injuries, all being treated,” Chuck assured him, but his voice was heavy with foreboding. “Protestors are already flocking to the area, along with the press. We need this assessed and handled. I know this isn’t what you signed on for when you stepped up to help this month. If you need me—”
“No, I’ve got it. You’re where you need to be.”
“Thanks, brother. I don’t want the Steeles thinking we can’t hold up our end of things and elbowing us out.”
“Understood. I’m on my way.” On his way into what could be a media hell storm. “Fill me in on the details.”
As he listened, he gestured to Isabeau and wrote on a notepad for her to read.
Get ready to leave. Accident with the pipeline. Media/Protesters gathering. Will need your help.
* * *
Trystan needed her help.
Those simple written words had seared themselves into Isabeau’s brain as she packed and then, once the weather had cleared in the morning, flew with him to the pipeline accident, the plane landing on a nearby stretch of water. Maybe she was feeling vulnerable after all they’d shared in the Jacuzzi.
But she couldn’t deny the swell of pride that he’d acknowledged what she had to offer.
She’d never been to a pipeline construction site before, and it surprised her to see just how remote the facility was. So remote they’d jumped in the small plane to get here and Trystan had landed on a stretch of bare earth alongside the work site. Unlike the journey to Trystan’s ranch, the flight toward damage control had been a blur of snowcapped mountains and evergreen trees. During the flight, she’d gone over some media ground rules for this scenario. While this particular event was out of her wheelhouse, Isabeau knew how to craft and spin a narrative. They would frame the story and put out all associated media fires.
He was a couple of yards away, gesturing toward the ring of trucks around the site while the foreman made notes. It was difficult to hear over the protestors shouting and blasting music, just past the trucks. They congregated near their bus and a couple of tents to protect them from the elements. Clearly,
