Page 1 of Mountain Man’s Bonfire Beauty (Wildwood Valley Harvest #5)

AYDEN

T he redhead was going to burn the whole place down.

I should mention it to Bobbi, the organizer of this harvest market.

That large tabletop fire pit where kids were roasting s’mores was definitely a fire hazard.

And if the fire marshal cared about some event in a small mountain town in the middle of nowhere, the organizers would face a fine. Maybe even be shut down.

But I didn’t report her. I just went to my buddy’s booth, where I was supposed to meet him. Where I could watch her without her knowing she was in my sights.

“We need to put something together fast,” Ashe said as I approached, my mind still on the gorgeous redhead.

“The high school wants to do their annual homecoming bonfire over there.” He pointed toward an open field next to the trail they’d been using for hayrides.

“Luca gave his approval—he owns the property, so Bobbi said we had to make it work.”

I glanced back at the open flame, trying not to get distracted by the impressive curves tucked into a tight, long-sleeved Halloween T-shirt.

I’d been worried about a relatively small open flame that sat on the table in front of the red-headed s’mores vendor, but my buddy was talking about the biggest possible flame—a bonfire.

“Did you get that cleared with the fire marshal?” I asked.

When I looked over at my friend, I saw the reaction I probably would have expected. I was being a stick in the mud again.

I was a valuable part of this community, as the only mechanic in town.

I did all the work out of a separate garage I had built for my business on my property behind my cabin.

But I’d always been hyper-responsible and a stickler for the rules, which had me taking shit from my friends going all the way back to elementary school.

The only place my adherence to rules was prized was while I was in the military. And now, in situations like this.

“They do this bonfire every year,” he said. “Usually behind the high school, but this is Luca’s property, and if he gave permission, it’s on him if something goes wrong.”

It would be in a big, open field, so the chances of it getting out of control were slim, but I made a mental note to head over to Hartsville and buy some fire extinguishers. Maybe someone should even have the fire department on standby.

“When are we doing this?” I asked.

“That’s the problem,” Ashe said. “The homecoming game is tomorrow night, so they need us to do it tonight. That’s why we called you in.”

I frowned at him. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the redhead’s flame jump as the kids squealed with excitement. It took everything in me not to bolt over and put the whole thing out.

“I’m a mechanic,” I said. “I’m not sure how that translates.”

“You’re our safety expert. I couldn’t think of anyone who’d be better. It’s going to be all hands on deck this afternoon, getting it set up.”

I found myself nodding, though my attention kept drifting back to the redhead.

From this angle, I could see her profile as she laughed with the kids, showing them how to thread marshmallows onto skewers.

Her hair caught the afternoon light, all copper and gold, and when she smiled, it transformed her whole face.

“So, what exactly do you need me to do?” I asked, forcing myself to focus on my friend.

“Coordinate with the fire department, make sure we have proper clearance zones, supervise the setup. You know, all the boring stuff that keeps us from getting sued.” He grinned. “Plus, you’ve got that truck with the flatbed. We’ll need it to haul wood.”

The mention of coordination had me thinking logistics. “How big are we talking?”

“Big enough for both high schoolers and adults to gather around. Maybe two hundred people? The principal wants it to be memorable.” He gestured toward the field again. “We’ve got about four hours to pull this together.”

Four hours. That would put us well into the evening, right around the time the harvest market wound down for the day. I glanced back at the redhead’s booth, wondering if she’d still be here. If she’d maybe even join the bonfire celebration.

“The wood’s already been delivered,” my friend continued. “Luca had a tree service drop off a pile this morning. We just need to arrange it properly, set up a perimeter, and get the safety equipment in place.”

I was half-listening, watching as the redhead demonstrated the perfect marshmallow roasting technique to a little girl who couldn’t have been more than six. The kid was hanging on her every word, eyes wide with the kind of wonder that only came from learning something magical for the first time.

“Earth to Ayden,” my friend said with a chuckle. “You’re staring.”

Heat crept up my neck. “Just keeping an eye on the situation over there.”

“Right. The ‘situation.’” His tone was dry. “Her name’s Parker, by the way. Parker Walsh. She’s new in town, been here maybe two months. She’s staying at the old Harrison place up on Mountain View Road.”

Parker. The name suited her somehow. Strong and straightforward. I filed the information away, trying to look like I wasn’t interested.

“Anyway,” he continued, “she’s been a hit at the market. Kids love her, parents appreciate that she uses quality ingredients. Bobbi’s thrilled to have her.”

“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.”

Stranger. The word hit me like a slap. I’d been watching her every time I stopped by here this week. Thinking about her, imagining conversations we might have. But to her, I was a nobody. Just some guy who’d appeared out of nowhere to criticize her.

“Fine,” I said, backing away from the booth. “Just…be more careful.”

“I’m always careful.” She didn’t look up from her packing. “But thanks for the unsolicited advice.”

I wanted to say more, wanted to explain that I wasn’t worried about the market or the other vendors or even the property damage.

That the only thing that had mattered in those terrifying seconds was making sure she was safe.

But I’d already made a mess of things, and anything else I said would probably just make it worse.

So I turned and walked away, leaving Parker to clean up the aftermath of her accident and my spectacular failure at human communication. Behind me, I could hear my friend calling my name, probably wondering what the hell had just happened.

What had happened was simple. I’d finally gotten my chance to talk to the woman who’d been occupying my thoughts for days, and I’d blown it completely. Instead of the hero who’d swept in to save the day, I’d come across as an overbearing jerk who couldn’t mind his own business.

Perfect. Absolutely perfect.

Now I had to spend the next four hours setting up a bonfire, knowing that Parker Walsh thought I was an ass. And the worst part? She wasn’t wrong.