Page 36 of Snowed In with the Rancher

“Hey,” Triss pressed a cool, delicate hand to his chest, “are you okay?”

Clenching his jaw until he thought he might chip a tooth, he sucked in air through his nose hard and breathed out with just as much force.

“Asher … you’re scaring me. Are you okay?”

What could he say to her?

No, you just showed me affection and your softness and kindness scared the shit out of me. That I’m worried I’m going to react in a way that frightens you when we least expect it.

Because that was what it was. She was so sweet, soft, and kind, but with a spine of steel and when she rubbed her nose against his, an innocuous gesture if ever there was one, it made his heart thunder in his chest and his gut began to spin. The last thing he ever wanted to do was scare or hurt this beautiful woman, and that’s exactly what he knew he’d do if he let her get too close.

She’d shown up on his doorstep for a reason, but was it to disrupt his predictable, safe world? A world where he kept people at arm’s length for a reason. Because he wasn’t sure if he could do that if it was. He liked his women like Teflon, easy to peel off. If they got sticky, they would start to see the real him, the broken him and that was the last thing anyone deserved to see.

“Hey,” she pressed her warm body up against his, “tell me what you need. Want me out of your bed? Do you need space, just say the word. I won’t be offended or hurt.”

He shook his head. Normally, his instinct would have been to go somewhere where he was alone and in the quiet, but having her near, with her heat and softness pressed against him was actually calming him faster than a silent, empty pasture ever had.

Slowly, his heart began to settle and his breathing slowed down. He wasn’t ready to open his eyes, though, and face her, so he kept his hands over his face for a full minute longer before slowly peeling them away and glancing at her.

And holy fuck, the look that greeted him wasn’t at all what he was expecting.

He was sure he’d see fear, worry, and probably even confusion. But her eyes gave him none of that.

Rather, she met him with a twisted lipped smile and relief in those soulful brown orbs. “Hey,” she said quietly. “Welcome back.”

“Hey,” he murmured. “Sor—"

“So … I’m kind of hungry. I’m going to run downstairs and do up a plate of something to nibble on. That sound good to you?”

He blinked several times. Why wasn’t she asking what happened? Why wasn’t she slinking away from him in fear?

Slowly, he nodded. “Yeah.”

She slid out of bed and tugged his white T-shirt over her body. It hit her knees and she looked fucking stunning in it with her hair a wild mess of waves over her shoulders.

“Find us something funny to watch on the television. Maybe A Christmas Story, since it is Christmas Eve after all.” Then with a smile that made his chest get warm, she padded downstairs.

He stared at the doorway she’d just walked through for nearly a minute, still not able to entirely believe what just happened.

He’d had a panic attack. He’d had them before, so he knew what they felt like. But he’d never come down from one that fast or had anybody react to him in that way. She wasn’t scared, was barely even phased, and she didn’t push him to talk about it.

It was like she knew precisely what he needed more than he did.

He’d never met a woman like that before. He’d never met a person who was able to unflappably help him through a panic attack. Even a small one like that.

Was this why she’d shown up on his doorstep?

Was Triss the breath of fresh air he didn’t even know he needed? And if she was, how in the hell was he going to let her walk out of his life when she finally needed to head home?

Chapter Thirteen

Asher had a panic attack.

That much was clear, but what she couldn’t figure out was why.

She knew from working with clients that the best thing to do when someone had a panic attack was to just let them know they weren’t alone—unless that was what they preferred, though most people didn’t—and let your touch help calm down their parasympathetic nervous system. If she thought it might work, she would have climbed on top of Asher and hugged him, but she didn’t think he would understand what she was trying to do and probably freak out even more.

As a speech pathologist, she wasn’t just confined to working with people who had stutters and lisps. She also worked with people of all ages who had difficulty eating and swallowing, whether from trauma, brain injuries, dementia, neurological impairments and other compromising issues. In addition to that, she was trained in cognitive-communication disorders including social communication skills, reasoning, problem solving and executive functions.

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