Page 2 of Mountain Man's Bonfire Beauty
“Good for Bobbi,” I muttered, but I was thinking about Parker living alone on Mountain View Road, in that isolated house with the long gravel driveway. It was beautiful up there, but remote. No neighbors for miles.
“So you’re in? For the bonfire?”
I dragged my attention back. “Yeah, I’m in.”
Truth was, I’d have said yes to just about anything that kept me in the vicinity for a few more hours. Maybe I’d even work up the courage to actually talk to her.
“Great. We should start moving on this. I’ll round up some volunteers while you?—”
A sharp crack split the air, followed immediately by children’s screams.
My head whipped toward Parker’s booth just in time to see flames dancing across the red checkered tablecloth. The small camping burner had somehow tipped or shifted, and now fire was spreading fast across the fabric, nearing a display of graham cracker boxes.
I was moving before my brain fully processed what was happening, my legs eating up the distance between us in long strides. Behind me, I heard my friend shouting something, but all I could focus on was the orange glow and Parker’s wide, startled eyes as she tried to wave the kids back from the table.
“Get them away,” I said as I reached the booth, stripping off my jacket.
But Parker was already herding the children backward, her voice calm despite the chaos. “It’s okay, guys. Just step back, step back.”
I threw my jacket over the flames, smothering the worst of it, then grabbed a water bottle from her display and doused what remained. The acrid smell of burned fabric filled the air, and wisps of smoke curled up from the wreckage.
“Is everyone okay?” Parker’s voice was shaky now that the immediate danger had passed.
She crouched down to the kids’ level, checking them over with practiced efficiency. The children nodded, wide-eyed but unharmed. A few parents had rushed over and were already gathering their little ones, murmuring reassurances and thanks.
I stood there staring at the burned table, my hands still trembling with adrenaline. The whole thing could have been so much worse. If the fire had reached those cardboard displays, if it had spread to the neighboring booths, if Parker had been leaning over the table when it happened…
“Thank you,” Parker said, rising to her feet. “I don’t know what happened. The burner was stable. I checked it twice before I started the demo, but something must have shifted and?—”
“This is exactly what I was worried about.” The words came out harsher than I intended, fueled by the fear that was still coursing through my system.
She blinked at me, no doubt taken aback by my tone. “I’m sorry?”
“Open flames in a crowded space with kids running around. It was an accident waiting to happen.”
Her shoulders stiffened. “I follow all the safety protocols. I’ve been doing demonstrations like this for two years without incident.”
“Well, today you had an incident.” I gestured at the mess. “You’re lucky no one was hurt. You’re lucky you didn’t burn down half the market.”
“Lucky?” Her voice had gone dangerously quiet. “I handled the situation. I got the kids to safety, and you helped put out the fire. That’s not luck, that’s preparation and quick thinking.”
I ran a hand through my hair, trying to get my emotions under control. She was right, of course. She’d handled it well. But all I could think about was what might have happened, how close she’d come to being in real danger.
“Look,” I said, forcing myself to speak more calmly, “maybe you should consider switching to electric alternatives. There are battery-powered units that would be just as effective for demonstrations without the fire risk.”
“Without the authenticity, you mean.” Parker’s green eyes flashed with irritation. “Half the appeal of s’mores is the real fire, the camping experience. These kids don’t get to do that kind of thing very often.”
“They also don’t need to get burned doing it.”
“No one got burned.”
“But they could have.” I could hear my voice rising again, but I couldn’t seem to stop it. “What if that fire had spread faster? What if one of those kids had been closer to the table?”
She stared at me for a long moment, her expression shifting from irritation to something colder. “You know what? You’re right. What if a meteor fell from the sky? What if the earth opened up and swallowed us all? We could spend all day talking about what-ifs.”
“This isn’t a joke.”
“I’m not laughing.” She started gathering her undamaged supplies with sharp, efficient movements. “And I don’t need some stranger lecturing me about safety when I’ve been running a business just fine on my own.”
