Page 28 of Property of Fox

“You doing okay?” she asks. “Let’s try some controlled breathing. Breathe in for four counts, and then slowly out. Can you do that?”

I nod my answer. Counting in my head. One, two, three, four. Over and over again, trying to will my body to relax. In and out until the fire breathing dragon inside of my chest wanes just a little bit.

The elevator hums softly as it ascends. Hallie's concerned eyes remain glued to me, and I can see her trying to process everything that just happened, the worry etched into her features.

“Keep that up. Your color is already better.”

The elevator dings at the penthouse floor before the door swings wide open. Hallie steps out first, pressing her arm against the door as I pass through it. “His room is down this way.” She turns left and heads towards the end of the hallway, where two doors are sequestered by themselves. She presses the keycard tothe one straight ahead. The lock clicks, and she opens the door, ushering me inside.

Once inside the room, the relief is almost immediate. There’s no crowd or noise here, just relief.

“Better?”

“Yeah, it’s slowly down,” I admit. “I really didn’t mean to act like that. I’m usually—” I start, but she cuts me off with a comforting smile.

“Hey, no one can predict when the anxiety monster decides to strike. Do you want a glass of water?”

I nod. Hallie heads over to the kitchenette, grabs a glass from the shelf above the sink, and begins filling it from the tap. She walks it over to me, and as she’s handing me the glass, the door to the room clicks again, and Fox steps inside.

“You can head back, Hallie. I got this.”

“You sure?” She hesitates, glancing between us, her concern still palpable.

“Yeah, I’ll take it from here. I’ll be back down in a bit. I told Az,” he reassures her, his gaze now solely focused on me.

Hallie nods and slips out through the door, leaving Fox and me alone in the quiet sanctuary of the room.

“I’m sorry for… well, everything,” I stammer, suddenly aware of how awkward I must seem. It has been years since I had a panic attack. They’d started shortly after my dad passed away.

Fox shrugs one shoulder casually. “No big deal. Just didn’t want you passing out and taking someone else down with you.” His attempt at humor feels forced but warms something deep inside me. “Does this happen a lot?”

“No,” I admit. “It’s been a while since my last one. I wasn’t expecting it.” I’m honestly surprised it took this long with everything going on in my life right now. Truthfully, I would have expected it more when I ran away from home. Not at a book signing. “It just…it happens sometimes.” I take a sip of the waterhis friend had given me. The cool water putting me more at ease. I finish it off, cradling the glass in my hand, until Fox snatches it and takes it over to the kitchenette to refill it.

“I get it,” he says, leaning against the countertop with an easygoing grace.

There’s something unmistakably vulnerable in being alone with him like this. Maybe it’s being away from Tank or being on my own for the first time, but with Fox, I feel at ease.

He returns, setting the full glass back in my hands, his touch lingering just a moment longer than necessary before he returns to the spot at the counter. “You going to tell me your name, firefly?”

“You did play white knight.”

“There’s nothing noble about me, but if rescuing you gets me what I want, I’ll wear the armor.”

“Brea,” I say, breaking the surface tension. The word slips out easier now. “Brea Quinn.”

“Well, Brea Quinn,” he says, rolling my name between his lips like it’s an unfamiliar flavor he’s just discovered. “What do you do when you’re not having panic attacks at book signings?”

“Um, I’m kind of between things right now, but I was a barista until recently.”

“Barista, huh? So, you’ve got some skills with steam and froth?” His grin is disarming.

I can’t help but chuckle, feeling the tension in my chest ease slightly at his playful banter. “I might. What about you?”

“I work in private construction.” Surprise must cross my face because his mouth shifts into a grin. “That shocking or something?”

“No, of course, not. I just figured since you were at the signing, you’re a cover model or something.”

Fox throws his head back and laughs, the sound rich and infectious. “A cover model? Hell no. The only thing I’m modelingis hard hats and boots on a construction site.” He steps closer. “But if you were into that kind of thing, I would definitely consider it. I mean, I have a motorcycle back home, so I’m halfway there already.”

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