17
Ethan watched her reactions closely, looking for tells, and saw them. He’d thrown her for a loop with his demand. It was apparent in her sudden stiff posture, despite her still resting a hip casually against the island. Her demeanour was far from relaxed, and her tense features echoed the flicker of alarm he’d seen in her eyes.
“I just wanted a fresh start in a quiet place.”
“Bullshit,” he countered, “try again.”
He was making her extremely uncomfortable, but he had to stick to his guns. If she posed a danger to his ranch, he had to know, tonight, before he did something stupid like get involved with her. Still unsure what game she played, the obvious dread in her eyes cut through him. He’d seen nothing but confident behaviour from her and this sudden change was telling. The problem was, he wasn’t sure what it signalled, still unclear if she was a victim or a predator.
This past week he’d studied her whenever he could and had drawn two possible conclusions. The first was that she was on the run, fleeing an unwanted situation, maybe a person. He could handle that, hell, he’d help her out depending on the circumstances. While he doubted she’d run afoul of the law, it was a possibility and something he wouldn’t involve himself in. However, if she was a victim, he would help her face her fears and conquer them.
The second possibility was much less favourable to her, but seemed feasible nonetheless. She could be a con artist setting him up for a scam. He wasn’t filthy rich, but between the ranch and the land it sat upon, he was quite wealthy. She could be a grifter, and worming her way into his bed would be step one to accessing his finances.
“Something’s not right here, and it ends tonight. Come clean. If you’re setting me up for a scam, then pack your shit and leave. If you need help, then ask for it. I’m more resourceful than you realize.”
Her mask slipped again and this time she was much slower replacing it. His stomach dropped at what he’d seen. It was more than fear he’d detected in her eyes. He could swear he saw desolation there, too.
“I wasn’t setting you up for anything,” she said quietly, sounding unable to muster a stronger voice. “I’m not a con artist.”
Stiffly, she placed her mug in the sink and then turned back to him. She didn’t meet his eyes now, hers focused on the floor. “Thank you for giving me a chance, even if I did bully you into it. I’ll leave right away.”
The look on her face told him all he needed to know. She wasn’t a scammer and wasn’t setting him up for anything. She was scared. Although she tried to hide it, he could clearly read it in her reactions. Convinced she was running from something, all he wanted to do was help her.
The self-assured and confident woman he’d battled with this week was gone. The woman standing in his kitchen now was frightened and appeared lost. He wanted to kiss away her problems, give her security in his arms, safety in his embrace. Obviously it wouldn’t be enough, not for whatever plagued her, but he wanted to try. Though unsure of when he began to care, he did. He wanted to help her, soothe her. Not without some alarm, he recognized his need to rescue her.
Turning away from him, she appeared to force her feet forward. Devastated by the change in her, he called out before she got to the door, stilling her.
“Do you need help?”
She froze and her shoulders hunched up. “What?” Her voice was small, shaky, and rattled him. Whatever she faced was huge, that much was evident, but so was his desire to help her, if she’d let him.
“I told you to leave if you were running a scam and to ask for help if you needed it. I know you’re not lying to me, I can see that now, so, do you need help? I’m willing to do what I can to help you, but you need to tell me how.”
Her head bowed and, while her shoulders relaxed, somehow the tension he felt from her increased. Perhaps she was debating confiding in him, he couldn’t be sure. He wished she’d turn so he could read her face and chanced drawing nearer to her. Stopping after two steps, not wanting to spook her, he watched her carefully, looking for any sign she’d relent and confide in him, or bolt. Unsure what he’d do if the latter occurred, he waited, willing her to comply with his wishes.
“You can’t,” she replied finally, “not with this.” She sighed deeply and then shook her head. “I can’t involve you in this, I won’t. I appreciate you wanting to help me, but I can’t let you.”
Slowly, he closed the distance between them until he stood behind her. Apprehension seemed to snap around her but, despite his desire to soothe her, he refrained from touching her. The fear of her running from him stilled the calming touch he wished to bestow.
“Stay,” he simply said.
“I can’t confide in you.”
Her voice was barely above a whisper but spoke volumes nonetheless. She knew he was an ex-cop, knew Boone still worked for the RCMP, and yet felt she couldn’t turn to them for help. It was possible the reason for her hesitancy was due to her committing a crime, but he couldn’t imagine that being the case. All that was left was her running from danger, one she seemed to believe she could inflict on him if she involved him in her troubles. It seemed bigger than fleeing a possessive ex, much bigger. While he still wanted to be involved and help her, he had to calm her first. Visibly agitated, she was akin to a cornered deer and would flee given the first opportunity. He couldn’t allow that to happen.
“Fine, but don’t leave. Whatever this is, it’s obviously huge. If you won’t confide in me, that’s your choice and I’ll respect it, but don’t leave if you’re in danger. Stay.”