Page 1 of The Mountain Man's Sweet Treat
Chapter 1
Sophie
Golden sunlight slants through the red leaves of the Maple trees lining Main Street in Courage County. Pumpkins, decorative scarecrows, and hay bales dot the store front displays, showcasing a small town that embraces autumn like a dear friend.
My mom would say the only thing missing from the idyllic scene is a few hungry zombies and some rotting corpses. She films the zombie show. Yeah, the one that became a breakout hit two years ago.
She’ll be calling in a little while, probably to tell me about the tensions that are running high with the cast and how the new makeup artist isn’t nearly as good as me. That’s a lie, and we both know it. I was good at my job. But one day, I walked off the set that felt like a second home and never came back.
Shaking off the memories, I park my car in the lot for Emma May’s Groceries. Tobias meows softly as if to remind me that he’s still in his travel carrier. He’s only a few months old, and he’s endlessly curious about the world.
“Just be patient a little while longer, and we’ll have a yummy dinner,” I promise him. I’ve already stopped twice to let him stretch his furry little legs for a few minutes at a time. He’s so little and traveling a long distance must seem scary to him.
When I step onto the cracked asphalt with its faded white lines, my hips and back protest from the long hours. I’ll be at my destination soon—a beautiful cabin tucked away in the mountains of this tiny town.
I hurry into the grocery store past a group of old men sitting on benches. They’re telling each other tall tales. They barely spare me a glance even though I’m waddling like a pregnant lady because my bladder is so full. I definitely should have skipped the jumbo drink at the last gas station.
After I use the restroom, I grab a shopping cart to fill with essentials and cat food. I never imagined that such a beautiful place in my budget would come available for a month. When it did, I knew I had to act quickly.
I nod to several locals who eye me curiously including two women who are leaning in close to each other to discuss a cowboy who swept a curvy woman that lives here off her feet. Literally.
I barely suppress my smile at their gossip as I turn down an aisle. A display of candy corn has me wishing I could go back in time. When I was with my mom on the set, we would always do a big Halloween party at the end of the month. The entire cast would spend October competing to see who could come up with the scariest pranks.
“Can I help you find anything?” A grandmotherly looking woman with a silver braid down her back asks me. She peers over the rim of her bifocals, taking in my thigh-high black boots, plaid mini-skirt and purple corset layered underneath a faux leather jacket.
I used dress differently, back when I cared what people thought about my plus-size body with my cellulite and curves. Now, I just dress in a way that makes me feel happy and confident. If someone doesn’t like how I look, that’s their problem.
I shake my head, not trusting myself to speak without crying. Some days, I think I’m doing OK. I think I’m getting stronger then moments like this happen, and I doubt I’ve made any progress at all on my journey.
Her smile is warm and genuine with no judgement in her tone. “You look a little lost.”
That’s the understatement of the century, but I can’t tell a perfect stranger that. Instead, I tell her, “I’m new to town.”
“Well, I’m old to town. Been here all my life. Raised half of these youngin’s myself. Now, where are you staying? The Andersons should have an empty room this time of year. But if they don’t, you just call me. I’ll make sure you get put up somewhere. I’m Emma May, by the way.” She reaches into her apple red apron and pulls out her phone.
“I’m renting a cabin. Actually, it’s in the mountains here,” I say, grabbing my phone automatically.
“Well, if you run into any problems or need anything, you call me,” she insists as if she’s my friend and not a stranger that I just met.
I know I won’t reach out. Still, when she rattles off her digits, I put them in my phone.
I assume that’s the end of our conversation, and I push my cart down the aisle. But to my surprise, Emma May falls into step beside me as if she senses I need a friend right now. She asks me questions and nods along patiently, listening as I explain I’m here to train for an upcoming 5K race in Asheville. It will be my first, but I don’t tell her that part.
When I stop talking, she shares all of the town’s best gossip. She’s acting as if I’m a regular, and we’re catching up together. It fills me with unexpected warmth. Maybe I did make the right decision by coming here.
After I’ve filled my cart with groceries for the week and a jug of apple cider that Emma May insists is the best in the county, I watch her ring up my purchases.
“Maybe we could get together for coffee later this week,” she says. “See how your cozy cabin is working out for you.”
“Text me, and we’ll do that,” I tell her, amazed to find myself a little bit excited about possibly making a friend here. I’m not much of a people person. I tend to prefer my own company, but there’s something about Emma May and her grandmotherly ways.
The drive up the mountain takes me a little over an hour. The scenic view of the winding roads canopied by red and orange trees has me stopping to take pictures more than once. I can’t wait to be running through this forest tomorrow.
If I thought I had enough daylight left, I’d go for a run as soon as I settled into the cabin, but it’s too late in the afternoon for that. Tomorrow, I promise myself as I pull up the long, winding drive for the cabin I’ve rented.
My breath catches in my throat the moment I see it. I thought the place was beautiful online, but the pictures didn’t do the rustic log cabin justice. Three wooden steps lead up to a wrap around porch that needs pumpkins and fairy lights, maybe even a gargoyle statue placed artfully near the drive.
For the first time in a year, peace flows over me. This feels like a place where I can belong, and it’s all mine. At least, it is for the next month. Maybe I’ll talk to the owner about extending my short-term rental lease.
