Page 5 of Mountain Man's Bonfire Beauty
“Could it have? Or are you just being nice?”
He was quiet for a moment, testing the stability of a stake. “My first month out of the Navy, I was working as a mechanic at an autobody shop. Thought I had everything under control, knew what I was doing. I made a mistake with a bench grinder that could have taken my hand off.”
I stopped working, giving him my full attention.
“My manager chewed me out in front of everyone,” he continued. “Told me I was dangerous, reckless, that I had no business being a mechanic if I couldn’t follow basic safety protocols.”
“That’s awful.”
“He was right, though. I was so focused on proving I could handle civilian work that I got sloppy. Overconfident.” He looked at me directly. “Sound familiar?”
Heat crept up my neck. “Are you saying I was overconfident today?”
“I’m saying you’re human. And sometimes being human means making mistakes, even when you’re good at what you do.” His voice was gentle. “I shouldn’t have come down on you so hard.”
The sincerity in his expression made something inside me soften. “I shouldn’t have been so defensive. You were trying to help, and I…I don’t like being told I’m doing something wrong.”
“Bad experience with criticism?”
I gave a short laugh. “You could say that.” I bent to pick up another stake, not ready to elaborate. “Let’s just say I’ve had my fill of people who think they know better than I do.”
“Ah.” Understanding colored his tone. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think I know better than you. I just…worry. Probably more than I should.”
“Why?”
The question hung in the air between us as we continued working. I thought he wasn’t going to answer, but then he said quietly, “Lost some good people overseas. Friends who might still be alive if someone had been a little more careful, a little more paranoid about safety.”
My chest tightened at the pain in his voice. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault. But it’s why I can’t seem to turn off the hypervigilance. Why seeing you in potential danger today made me react like an ass instead of a rational human being.”
I stopped walking and turned to face him fully. “You’re not an ass. You’re someone who cares about people getting hurt. There’s a difference.”
He met my eyes, and for a moment, the air between us seemed charged with something deeper than simple attraction. Then voices carried across the field, breaking the spell.
“Ayden. Parker.” Ashe was jogging toward us, followed by what looked like half the volunteer crew. “How’s it coming over here?”
Just like that, our bubble of intimacy popped. But as the group descended on us, chattering about timelines and logistics and whether we needed more firewood, I caught Ayden’s eye and smiled. He smiled back, and I knew that whatever this was between us, it wasn’t over.
Not by a long shot.
3
AYDEN
Ihadn’t seen so many people in one place since moving here three years ago. I was pretty sure only a fraction of these teenagers actually lived in Wildwood Valley. Most of them probably came from the nearest towns, which were a decent distance away.
Once I got past my initial resistance to crowds, though, my attention was on one person, and one person only. Parker.
She stood with a group of vendors on the other side of the bonfire. Most of them were dating my buddies and co-workers who were surrounding me right now. But I had a hard time keeping my eyes off her. The fire gave her face a glow, made her even more beautiful. Radiant—that was the best word for it.
Every now and then, our eyes would meet, and my heart would skip a beat. It was very high school, and I was loving every minute of it.
“Ayden here was worried for nothing,” Marc said.
“He probably kept this whole thing safe,” Ashe said.
I gave my buddy a nod. “Thanks, buddy.”
