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I wrinkle my nose. “Yeah, I hope it doesn’t get too bad.”
He cocks his head to the side, looking at me curiously. “Are you afraid of storms?”
I scoff, and prop myself up on one elbow. “Of course not. I mean… they’re not my favorite thing in the world, but scared? No way.”
He looks unconvinced. “I didn’t think anyone from Kansas was scared of storms.”
“Like I said, I’m not scared—“ I’m cut off by a loud crack of thunder. I throw the blankets over my head and cower beneath them.
David tugs at the blankets, but I keep a tight hold on them. The last thing I need right now is David’s mockery.
“Hey, it’s okay.” His voice sounds… kind. And actually not mocking at all.
Hesitantly, I pull the covers back and peek at him. Thunder rumbles again, shaking the tent and making it feel like it’s made of Saran Wrap.
He leans toward me to speak, like he doesn’t want me to move from my cozy spot. “I researched the accommodations before booking this trip, and rest assured, these tents are very effective and structurally sound,” he whispers to me in a soothing voice. The same voice he spoke with when the llama was trying to escape from our tent this morning.
If he’s not careful, I’m going to grow accustomed to him being nice to me.
He continues to shock me when he moves to the other side of the tent and scoots his pallet right next to mine and crawls inside.
When he looks over and sees my surprise, he clears his throat. “Is this okay?”
I nod my head. It does make me feel less scared to have him closer.
“I, uh, used to be really scared of storms when I was little. I’d try to crawl in bed with my parents, but they’d tell me to be tough like my brothers and go back to bed.”
Picturing a scared little David makes me want to wrap the man in a big hug. But he’s opening up to me and I don't want to make any sudden movements and ruin it. “I’m sorry. My parents are all about tough love too. How’d you get over your fear?”
He smiles. “I didn’t really, not until I was an adult. Instead, I started going to my older sister’s room during storms. She’d lay blankets and pillows on the floor next to her bed and tell me stories until I fell asleep.”
“Okay, that’s the cutest thing I’ve ever heard.”
He rolls his eyes, but he’s still smiling. “My parents aren’t all bad. They’re just not very… sensitive. They have high expectations."
Wrinkling my nose, I admit, “Mine too. Especially Mama… she’s more of a ‘pull up your big girl panties and deal with it’ type of parent.” I blow a breath out through my lips, making me feel like a deflating balloon. “My parents own a restaurant, actually. It was my grandmother’s, and they took it over when she passed. They want me and my sisters to carry on the family tradition and run the restaurant once they retire… along with our husbands, of course.” I roll my eyes then realize it’s dark and he can’t even see my eyeballs.
“Ahh, traditionalists. You and my sister would get along. Sophie and my parents really butted heads over the years.”
“Yeah?” I look up at him with an arched eyebrow. “Did your parents want her to marry a Latin-American Catholic named Fabio?”
“That was oddly specific.” His body shakes like he’s trying to hold back his laughter, but he fails miserably and guffaws out loud.
I shake my head from side to side slowly. “You don’t even wanna know.”
“If your parents are anything like mine, they will give you some pushback in the beginning… but once they see you’re happy on your own path, they’ll come around and support you.”
“You think so?” I ask, hoping maybe he’s right and someday they’ll come around.
“I really do. Hey, what restaurant do they own?”
“Abeula’s Mexican Grill.”
He huffs a breath out through his nose as if surprised. “You’re kidding. I eat there with my brothers all the time. Abuela’s has the best chimichangas in town.”
“You should try the empanadas.” I kiss my fingertips in a chef’s kiss.
He breaks out in a genuine laugh, the deep sound making me feel warm inside. I realize then how cold I’m getting on the outside.
