Page 3 of Lumberjack DADDY
“Got everything you need?” he asks brightly.
“I do. Thank you.”
Travis gives me a pleasant smile and begins ringing up my items, and for a moment, I start to think perhaps I’ve blown this whole situation out of proportion. Maybe I’m still so scarred and fragile by what happened with my ex that I see every man as a threat. I don’t think I can be blamed, but maybe I shouldn’t be so quick to judge either.
“So, how long are you vacationing up in our fair mountains?” he asks.
“Oh. A few weeks, I suppose.”
“That’s terrific. It’s a nice place to get away.”
“It is. It’s beautiful up here,” I reply.
“You staying at the Seven Pines?” he asks, referring to the one hotel in town.
Originally, I had checked out the hotel, but even online, it seemed kind of dingy. Luckily, I found the cabin I’m staying in. But I see something in his eyes. Some predatory gleam that makes my skin prickle, and I quickly abandon the answer sitting on the tip of my tongue. Instead of telling him the truth, that I’m staying in a rented cabin up on the mountain, all the warning bells going off in my head direct me down a different path.
“I am,” I lie. “The Seven Pines. Yep.”
“It’s not too bad a place.”
“Nope. It’s not.”
He finishes ringing up my order, then bags it, and gives me the total. I quickly pay him and turn to push my cart out of the store, content to give up the two bucks and change that was coming back to me in favor of getting the heck out of there.
“How about I help you with those groceries?” he asks.
“Oh, no. I’m fine. I’ve got it,” I tell him. “I do it all the time at home. My boyfriend doesn’t usually help with the groceries?—”
“Well, then that’s a man not worthy of bein’ your boyfriend, I’d say.”
“That’s sweet,” I tell him. “But really, I’m fine. Thank you for asking.”
“Sure. Yeah. No problem.”
I start to leave, but he stops me again, and it’s all I can do to bite off the loud sigh sitting in my throat. A smile I know looks fake on my lips, I turn back.
“Hey, listen, I get off here when we close at eight tonight,” he says. “How about we go get a drink over at Hanks?”
“Look, I appreciate the offer, but I’m just here to unplug. I just… Thank you for the offer, but I’m going to pass.”
Before he can say anything more, I turn and hurry from the store, wanting to put as much distance between me and him as I possibly can.
4
ELI
Blowing out a long, frustrated breath, I knock on the door. A moment later, it opens, and I find myself staring at Emery Pierce, the haunted girl I saw in the woods the other day. She’s wearing a pair of black yoga pants, thick socks, and a black t-shirt featuring what I assume is a band. One I’ve never heard of. I’m doing my best to keep from gawking at her, but it’s hard not to notice the way her clothes cling to her curves. Even dressed down and casual, she’s stunning.
“Hey,” she says. “Thanks for coming so quick.”
“Yep.”
I step into the small cabin and am pleased to see that if nothing else, she’s tidy. Soft music is playing—something classical, it sounds like. Not my normal thing, but it’s miles better than the bubble gum pop or that rap garbage most people her age listen to these days.
“I don’t know what happened,” she tells me. “I was trying to make some dinner, but the stove isn’t working.”
Walking into the kitchen, I set my toolbox down. “No worries. I’ll figure it out.”
