Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 23722 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 119(@200wpm)___ 95(@250wpm)___ 79(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23722 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 119(@200wpm)___ 95(@250wpm)___ 79(@300wpm)
“So, my name’s Travis,” he says. “Travis Miller. I was born and raised here in Greencrest.”
“I’m Emery,” she said.
I was polite but tried to make it clear I was not interested in carrying on a conversation, and breathed a sigh of relief when Travis was called away by one of the other customers. I hustle over to the meat counter and toss some ground beef and chicken into my cart. After that, I head for the cereal aisle, and when I turn the corner, I feel the hair on the back of my neck standing on end. Despite knowing he’s behind me again, I still flinch when he speaks.
“You know, I can get you the freshest chicken we have,” he says. “It’s all in the back—”
“No, I’m fine. But thank you.”
“Are you sure? Wouldn’t be any trouble—”
“I’m fine, Travis,” I say firmly. “But thank you.”
I grab a couple of boxes of cereal and one of cinnamon oatmeal, throwing them in my cart and hustling down the aisle. His footsteps are just behind me, and part of me is tempted to just abandon my cart and flee the store just to get away from him. But I’ve already been forced to give up too much. I’ve already been made to feel weak. Powerless. Like I have no control over my life. And I’m not going to do that again.
“So, you said you’re just here for a vacation, huh?” Travis says.
“Yes. That’s right.”
My brain is screaming at me to turn around and tear into him. To get in his face and tell him to leave me the heck alone. But I’ve been conditioned—trained—to be polite. And after so many years of being beaten into subservience and made to exist in silence, first by my parents, then by my now ex-boyfriend, Ryan, I’ve lost my voice. And part of my reason for being up in these mountains in the first place is to find it again.
But it’s not like I can flip a switch. I’m hardwired to be demure. Polite. I can’t just push a button in my brain and become some vocal, strong, warrior woman who takes no crap from anybody. I want to get there. Like really badly. I’m confident I’ll get there, but my overwhelming desire to scream at this man to get the heck away from me isn’t going to come to fruition. Not right away. But it’s a process. That kind of deprogramming takes time.
Travis is called away again, and I hear him grumbling under his breath as he walks away. I take the opportunity to hustle through the store and gather up everything else that I need to survive the next few days up on the mountain. My basket full, I head for the register, and when I see Travis pop behind the counter, a soft groan passes my lips.
“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.”