She was still staring at the van, her breaths fast and shallow. Shock?
He set a hand on her shoulder, dipping down to make eye contact. “Grace?”
Her eyes darted to his, still wide.
“Sit down.”
“I’m fine.”
“Do as I say.” He led her to the curb and she sank onto it.
He dropped down beside her, took her wrist, noting her cold hand, and found her pulse. He counted for ten seconds. Her other hand was pressed to her stomach. She was breathing through her mouth. Rapid pulse.
Her eyes locked on his, panic mounting there. “Don’t feel so good.”
“Purse your lips like this. Breathe slowly through your mouth.”
She did as he said.
“In... two... three. Out... two... three. Just like that. Keep going. You’re doing great.” He breathed with her. When her eyes drifted away, he pulled her back to him.
Slowly the color returned to her face. The panic faded from her eyes.
“Better?” he asked a few minutes later.
She sat up straight, folded her arms over her stomach. “Yes. Thank you. I don’t know what that was, but I’m glad it’s over.”
“You were hyperventilating. Happen before?”
“No.” She rubbed her lips together.
He believed her, but something had likely brought this on. Some medical conditions caused hyperventilation, but this seemed situational, brought on by shock or panic.
“Did you know that woman?”
“What woman?”
“The one in the van. You were staring at her.”
She looked away from him. “Never seen her before. I’m fine now. Are you a doctor or something?”
“EMT.”
“That’s handy. I, uh, I think I’m good now.” She started to rise to her feet. “I should get back to—”
“Easy.” He took her elbow when she wobbled, standing with her. She was through the crisis, embarrassed now and seeking escape.
She disengaged from him and lifted her chin, professional smile in place. “I’m fine now. Thank you again. I appreciate your help.”
“No problem,” he said, but she was already walking away.
Chapter Six
Wyatt woke with a sudden jerk. His heartbeat thudded in his ears and the suffocating heat had him shoving the covers away. The gray veil of daylight filtered through the gap in the curtains. He’d almost made it through the night without a nightmare.
He ran a hand over his face, the dream lingering like a bad odor. As usual it had been all too realistic, but he was bound this time, hands and feet. If only he really had been. Maybe then he wouldn’t feel so guilty.
He pushed out of bed. He had a lot to do today. In the shower he spent a few extra minutes appreciating the inn’s excellent water pressure. He thought of Grace’s episode last night. What had provoked it? He hoped she felt better today.
