Wild in the Field by Jennifer Greene Page B

comedy—”
    â€œI know. Don’t waste guilt on me, Pete. You didn’t do anything wrong. I knew better than to come into town.”
    â€œWell, that sounds pretty unfair. Unless you were planning on staying home forever?”
    â€œNo, of course not. I need to make a living. Have to find work again. And I will. I just need a little more time to get past this.” Her head shot up. “Do me a favor and don’t suggest going to a shrink.”
    â€œI wasn’t going to.” He might not be brilliant with women, but Pete knew when to shut up or risk being strangled.
    â€œI don’t need any damn shrink to tell me I’m acting like an idiot. Or why. I’m not stupid.”
    â€œDid I say you were?” Oh, man. That belligerent chin. That fierce well of pain in her eyes. That soft skin. A mantra kept whispering through his mind with the same old refrain: Let me love you. Let me help you. Let me protect you and make sure no one ever hurts you again. But of course he couldn’t make those promises—he didn’t have the power. Or the right.
    â€œI can handle my own life, Pete. Just because I’m having trouble doesn’t mean I’m incapable of fixing it.”
    Sheesh. Somehow she seemed to feel he was attacking her—which he wasn’t, and he wanted to correct that impression, except that the show of belligerence seemed to be doing her good. Fresh color bloomed in her cheeks. Her hands had stopped shaking. And she was still talking.
    â€œThere’s a reason I’m taking so long to get my life back together. It’s about power.”
    â€œPower,” he echoed, wanting to encourage her even if she wasn’t making a lick of sense.
    She nodded. “Both my parents raised me to believe that I was powerful. Seriously. I grew up believing that I had power over my life, over what I could become, over what I could do. Most people complain about feeling insecure all the time. Not me. I wasn’t raised insecure, I was raised to believe I could conquer the world—if I just worked hard and kept my nose clean and stood up for the things that mattered.”
    He hung his arms over his knees. “That sounds exactly like how I’m trying to raise my sons.”
    â€œWell, don’t. Because then when something happens, like when I was attacked, it’s like a double blow. I’d never felt helpless before. I’d never felt…impotent. It was as if those three men took it all away. Not just Robert, not just life as I knew it, but me. They took away me .”
    Again he wanted nothing more than to pull her in his arms, to love her. To shield her. The urge was so strong he almost couldn’t suck it back…. But damnation, this wasn’t about him, and what he wanted to do. It was about her. About Camille believing she’d lost herself. And about a woman who spit back sympathy if you dared try to give it to her.
    â€œSo you’re just planning on hiding out on the farm rather than risk being any part of real life?” he asked.
    â€œPardon?” She turned to him with a flash of vulnerability in her eyes.
    â€œThat’s what you’re saying, isn’t it? That even going to a movie is too much for you to handle.”
    Her jaw almost dropped. “I can handle it—”
    â€œWell, you’re out here shaking. I’d hardly call that ‘handling it.’” He saw the shocked look in her eyes, the sting of hurt. And pushed harder. “If you weren’tfeeling so sorry for yourself, you’d be going back in the movie, proving it was no big deal.”
    More hurt. But those shoulders stiffened like soldiers. “It isn’t any big deal. I’m going back in the movie right this minute. I told you. I just needed a few seconds to get some air.” She bolted to her feet. “And just because you caught me with my hands shaking for a second doesn’t mean I’m some needy