Page 11 of Mountain Man's Bonfire Beauty
“I said I don’t need help.” He wheeled around to face me, his face red with frustration. “Why don’t you mind your own damn business?”
The guy was clearly having a rough morning, but he was making a scene that could affect the whole market. I drew myself up to my full height, using the commanding voice that had served me well in the military.
“That’s enough,” I said firmly. “You’re yelling at customers and vendors. Either calm down or?—”
A sharp gasp from behind me made me turn. Parker stood frozen by her booth, her face completely white, eyes wide with something that looked like terror. She was staring at me like I’d just transformed into a monster.
“Parker?” I stepped toward her, confused by her reaction.
She flinched—actually flinched—and my heart dropped into my stomach.
“I…I need to…” she stammered, then turned and practically ran toward the parking area.
I stared after her for a split second, then looked back at the wooden bowl vendor, who was now picking up his merchandise with considerably less drama. The crisis was over, but something much more important had just gone very wrong.
I caught up with Parker halfway to the parking lot. She was walking fast, her arms wrapped around herself like she was trying to hold it together.
“Parker, wait.”
She stopped but didn’t turn around. I could see her shoulders shaking.
“Hey.” I moved around to face her, careful to keep my distance. “What just happened back there?”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m being ridiculous. I know you were trying to help, but when you raised your voice like that…” She shook her head. “Men yelling…well, it’s a trigger for me, I guess.”
“I wasn’t yelling at you?—”
“I know.” The words came out in a rush. “I know you weren’t. But your voice, the way you stood there looking so commanding. For a second, you sounded just like…”
She trailed off, but understanding was starting to dawn. “Just like who, sweetheart?”
Parker was quiet for so long, I thought she wasn’t going to answer. When she finally spoke, her voice was barely audible.
“My stepdad. He used to…when he got angry, his voice would get like that. Cold and controlled and dangerous. And then…” She wrapped her arms tighter around herself. “I know you’re not him. I know you’d never hurt me. But my body doesn’t know that yet.”
Jesus. I felt like someone had punched me in the chest. No wonder she’d been so defensive that first day, so quick to bristle when I’d criticized her safety protocols. She’d been bracing for something much worse than a lecture about fire extinguishers.
“Parker.” I kept my voice gentle, soft. “Look at me.”
She raised her eyes to mine, and I could see the shame there, the embarrassment at her reaction.
“First of all,” I said, “you’re not being ridiculous. You’re being human. If someone hurt you, it makes perfect sense that you’d be wary.”
Her eyes filled with tears. “I don’t want to be like this with you. Last night was so perfect, and now I’m ruining everything by being broken?—”
“Stop.” I stepped closer, slowly, giving her time to move away if she needed to. When she didn’t, I reached out and gently cupped her face in my hands. “You are not broken. You survived something that left scars, and that makes you strong, not damaged.”
A tear spilled over, and I brushed it away with my thumb.
“And you’re not ruining anything,” I continued. “You’re helping me understand what you need from me. Which is apparently for me to remember that my voice carries when I’m trying to manage a situation.”
“You were just doing what comes naturally to you. Taking charge, keeping people safe. I can’t ask you to change who you are.”
“You’re not asking me to change who I am. You’re asking me to be mindful of how I affect you.” I leaned my forehead against hers. “That’s what people do when they care about each other. They pay attention.”
“I care about you too,” she whispered. “So much it scares me.”
“Good scared or bad scared?”
