She jumped out of her skin and dropped the phone with a clatter, reaching out to grab the doorjamb at the entrance of the kennels to steady herself.
Satisfied she wasn’t going to faint—at least for the moment—he bent to retrieve her phone and give her time to pull herself together. He’d gotten the impression through the course of their interactions that she put a lot of effort into facing him with composure. To be honest, he’d snuck up on her once or twice this morning just to enjoy her discomfiture a little because he was a rat bastard like that.
But now was a good time to let her have her composure if it would help her feel safer.
As he straightened, he glanced at the text. Seemed harmless enough, but experience told him the most innocuous-looking things on the surface could blow an unsuspecting person to pieces.
He’d seen it happen more times than he ever wanted to remember.
“Is this a problem?” He held the phone out to her.
Elisa stared at the proffered phone as if it was a viper. He let his arm drop, phone still in hand. The tightness in her shoulders eased a fraction, but overall she was wound up so tight he wouldn’t be surprised if she started shaking.
And what the hell was he going to do if she did? He wanted to hold her, stroke her hair, and reassure her. Kissing her was at the top of the list of things he’d like to do, too. None of those was the right thing at the moment and, damn, why was he even thinking along those lines?
Through the course of the day, he’d observed a capable woman dive into work with enthusiasm. She’d listened to instructions and also taken initiative, demonstrated a solid work ethic, and seemed to take a practical approach to things.
Elisa Hall wasn’t the type to get dramatic over nothing. This text was significant and a threat to her. His anger started at a slow burn, and he set his jaw in an effort to keep it from showing. It wouldn’t be good to frighten her further.
“Elisa.” He tried for quiet, gentle—the same tone he used with an upset dog. Not that she was a dog or anything, but damn it, he was going to go with what worked for him. “I know you’ve only just met me, but can I help you?”
She continued to stare at his hand holding the phone for several long seconds before she came to herself with a start. Her eyes were wild as she looked up and met his gaze then quickly away. “No.”
Too fast. She’d responded automatically, and it didn’t sound like what she really wanted, but he wasn’t going to make any assumptions.
“Okay. How about I walk you to your car, then. Just like I said I would.” That was reasonable, wasn’t it? In actuality, he wanted to pound the living hell out of whomever had terrorized her so bad a random text could blow her carefully constructed confidence to pieces.
She swallowed hard. “You would need to, wouldn’t you? Since I don’t officially work here. Sure. I should be going now.”
The distance she’d put between herself and Hope’s Crossing was a palpable thing. She made the idea of not officially working there sound like a decision and her leaving now something even more final.
He didn’t like the idea of not seeing her tomorrow. “Are you okay?”
There was a pause. “Not right now. But I will be.”
Despite his misgivings, he smiled. Truth and determination. He was getting to like her more and more. “I believe that.”
“Do you?” There was still a tremor in her voice, and her steps weren’t precisely straight as she headed up the aisle toward the door to the main building the way they’d come earlier. “To be honest, I said it more to convince myself.”
He’d done the same in the past. There could be dark times when you had to talk yourself through to the other side.
“Yeah.” He followed her as far to one side as he possibly could and still walk with her, so she could see him at the edge of her peripheral vision and not feel chased. Spooked wasn’t the word for whatever was going on with her, but he could give her space without leaving her alone. “I think you’re in the process of building what you want for yourself. That sort of thing takes time.”
She huffed out a bitter laugh. “True. Work in progress. That’s me.”
“That’s not a bad thing,” he answered quietly. Because he was in progress, too. He didn’t say it out loud, though. If it sounded corny inside his head, it’d be worse out loud.
Anyway, this was about her for the time being.