Isabelle

"Izzy, did you hear me?" Dad's gentle voice calls me from the back room of our family-run shop. His slightly raised pitch snatches me from the pages of the novel currently devouring my soul in such a wondrous way that it allows me to forget.

I sigh, wishing he hadn't torn me back to the sorrowful reality of our little shop. While I love it, it resides on the little main street of our little town, where everyone knows everything about everyone else a little too well. A lucky few in Mystic Bluff escape its clutches, but the rest of us? We're condemned to wither in this provincial purgatory, believing Mystic Bluff is the beginning and end of the world–but every fiber with me knows there must be more.

I gingerly brush the page I'm reading, admiring the tiny creases along each corner—the soft crinkle of the paper under my fingertips, and the browning edges that whisper its age. If wrinkles reveal the story of a person's life—their highest highs and lowest lows—then all these tiny dings accumulate to prove how beloved this book has been through the years. A shiver courses deeply through my thighs, forcing me to shut my eyes—not from the book itself but from the sultry... and sticky adventures hidden between its cover, the type of expeditions I've salivated to partake in for far too long.

A heroine meets the love of her life in a sweltering jungle, but they despise each other at first, constantly fighting until they're forced to face challenging complications together—sparking a passion neither can deny. My lips part, a soft moan escaping as the throbbing between my legs intensifies as I imagine my thighs wrapped tightly around my Tarzan as he thrusts inside me while still managing to swing us through the jungle.

"Isabelle!"

Heat floods my cheeks as the jungle fades, replaced by the cluttered shop and my dad's booming voice.

"Coming," I say, pulling the pressed lily from my messy bun and gently placing it on the page to mark my spot, finally glancing up. To my surprise, instead of Dad, I'm met by a teetering stack of boxes. I dart from behind the register, grabbing a few of the towering packages, revealing the familiar, crazed man holding them. His warm brown eyes stare into mine. I squint, realizing my glasses are fogged over thanks to my steamy daydreams. Heat crawls up my neck—even though I'm sure he has no idea why my frames are fogged—as I slide the thick-rimmed frames down, wiping them clean against my oversized plaid shirt. "Sorry, I was...busy."

He shifts his gaze from the register to my book, tilting his head in an all-too-familiar way.

"Those books again, huh? You're always buried in them," he teases, but his warm smile softens the reproach, and I can't help but smile back. "I get it, though. Fans always said your mom had a way of writing brain-tingling stories."

"That's not all her words could make tingle," I mumble, hauling boxes to the front door as he vanishes back to the storage room, thinking he's out of earshot.

"What was that?" he calls, reappearing with another precarious stack. I sigh, grabbing two boxes from him with a shake of my head.

"Nothing." The lie slips out effortlessly. I've crafted and maintained a very thick father-daughter line over the years and I'm not willing to cross it now. But curiosity stirs inside me, wondering how he's so alright with me reading stuff like this around him, and before I can stop myself, the words launch from my lips like missiles. "Dad, did you ever read any of Mom's novels?"

"Heavens, no." He laughs, kneeling to open one of the boxes on the floor to inspect the contents. "Too girly for me, but her fans ate them up."

"Oh," I say, joining him on the ground to help. "But the stories are based on the adventures you and Mom took while working for that national travel magazine, right?"

"That's what she always said. She even said the main male characters were based on me," he brags, then scrunches his brows and tilts his head toward me. "Loosely based."

No kidding.

Although his hair is now peppered, it still holds its rich luster, which allows me to imagine him being highly attractive when he and my mom dated. But that's where the similarities between him and the heroes in the books start—and end. His portly belly and short stature are a far cry from the chiseled bodies and Greek godlike features of the men in the novels. Not that I've ever spent a bunch of (or any) time thinking about my dad's abs—or lack thereof.

I pull out a pair of goggles connected to a mask, my smile widening as I admire my creation—my baby. I've always had a knack for technology. It just comes naturally to me. Dad says my two older sisters got our mom's looks and social graces, but I got all her brains.

Growing up, I found it hard to see that as a compliment, but staring at my invention now, I'm grateful for my brains. These goggles allow the wearer to experience the sounds, views, smells, and (hopefully someday) even the tastes of far-off places. Once I accepted my fate of living and dying in this town, the idea just came to me. Ironically, me accepting that I'd never leave Mystic Bluff became my ticket out of it.

"Are you sure we didn't make too many?" I ask, eyeing the mountain of boxes by the door as Dad staggers out with another load. "This seems a little... excessive."

"Are you kidding? These are gonna sell like hotcakes," he replies, grinning like a kid.

"I hope you're right," I murmur, trying—and failing—to mask the worry tightening my chest.

These goggles aren't just my way out. They're also our store's last hope. We've barely kept afloat for the past two years, even before sinking everything into making these. And as much as my sisters claim to have tons of cash, somehow, neither one can ever find the funds to help.

"I wish you'd let me go to the convention instead of you," I say, frowning.

"I need you here running the store. You showed me how the masks work, and I know we'll win the $50,000 in the new gadget category. Besides, we both know public speaking isn't exactly your strong suit."

"Maybe we could close the store for the weekend," I suggest, brushing off his all-too-true remark. "I saw there's supposed to be a big storm coming in."

"So?" He raises an eyebrow.

"So, your sense of direction isn't great on a sunny day," I reply, lifting my own brow.

"I'll be fine. I'll get there long before the storm hits. I found a shortcut."

"Oh, Dad," I groan. This man has an unnatural knack for finding shortcuts that wind up being hours-long detours. "Just follow the GPS directions."

"We'll see," he says, throwing me a mischievous wink.

"That's it—I'm coming with you. You need me, and besides, I've never run the store alone."

"Nonsense, you guys will do great," he says, his features screwing at my concerns.

"You guys?" I repeat, arching my brow as a guilty flush spreads across his face. I sigh, rolling my head back. "Dad, you didn't."

"No. I might've mentioned my trip, and he offered to help you with the store," Dad says, eyes darting anywhere but at me, knowing full well my glare right now could burn through steel.

"Of course he did!" I groan, tossing my hands up. "Am I really so hideous that I need my daddy setting me up for mating season?"

"On the outside, no, but once you get talking...." He makes a show of grimacing before breaking into laughter. "I'm kidding... mostly. And there are worse things than ending up with Garrison."

Sure, like catching a raging case of dysentery.

I scoff. "Garrison Wolfbane and his family are Mystic Bluff's very own mafia."

"They're lawyers." His face screws again, but then his brows rise with a broad grin. "I see your point."

"They have minions who do shady things so evidence and witnesses go missing," I continue, and it's true, even though no one will outright admit it.

I've known Garrison since we were kids, and he still struts around with his pack of lackeys—his so-called 'wolves.'

"I have plans, Dad. Big ones. I want to be a great inventor, have my own adventures—like you and Mom. I don't need some guy coming along to derail all that." I pout, not wanting to be forced into this ridiculous medieval courting fiasco. "Especially if that guy is Garrison."

"Plans change, Izzy. Your mother never planned to stop adventuring. It was her dream. But then this shop, her books, and you girls became her new dream." Dad seals the box, his voice softening. "Finding love doesn't mean you have to lose your adventures, desires, or ambitions. On the contrary. It might even expand your inventorous horizons."

"That's not a word," I laugh, amused by my dad's creative, inventorous ways with vocabulary.

"Sure it is," he insists, stacking more boxes. "And besides, I think you could benefit from some 'cuddly time' with Garrison. If you catch my drift."

"I can feel the vomit rising in my throat," I gag.

"Are my ears burning?" A voice echoes through the store as the bell above the entrance jingles.

And just like that, the lightness in the room vanishes, replaced by a disgusting chill ushered in by Garrison's revolting voice.

"Garrison, my boy. Right on time," Dad says, hefting a stack of boxes. "I'm just gonna get these loaded on the truck. Izzy can tell you what you'll be doing while you watch the store."

Without a second glance, Dad leaves me to the wolf. As soon as my dad's out of sight, Garrison presses his large, built frame against my petite one, his overbearing presence as suffocating as his cologne. If I didn't know how awful he is, I might actually think he's hot with his slick black hair, perfect tan, and dark brown eyes. He leans into my ear, his breath reeking like pounds of meat left to rot for weeks before fermenting in a sea of sewage—or in Garrison's case, cheap, cat-piss-flavored whiskey.

God, who did I fuck over in a past life to deserve this torment?

Garrison's rancid breath radiates against my ear as he whispers to me, triggering my gag reflex. "Between you and me, more than my ears are burning." He thrusts his pelvis harder against me, his cock extending in his slacks. "Looking forward to our one-on-one time this weekend."

"Clearly," I reply, forcing down the vomit that's once again fighting its way up my throat as he humps my leg like a desperate mutt.

It's weird. As wet as I was minutes ago, feeling Garrison's little Dickson gyrate against my thigh has created an unnaturally substantial drought between my legs. Lo and behold, Garrison's cock is the spokesmodel schools have been searching for to promote abstinence. I wedge my hand between me and his pelvis, being careful not to further provoke whatever twisted thrill he's already riding (if that's even possible), and push him back.

"How much to make you leave and not come back in here for the rest of the weekend?" I ask, crossing my arms as I take a large step away from him.

"Izzy, I'm hurt. You think you can bribe me into abandoning the generous assistance I offered your father?" Garrison says, plastering on a fake pout, which repulses me more than evokes pity toward him.

"The most I can offer right now is $200," I say, marching toward the cash register.

"I don't want your money," he sneers, flashing me a hideous, cocky grin. "Honestly, that's pocket change to me."

"What do you want, then? Name it," I say, glowering at him from behind the safety of the register.

"You," he says, strutting behind the counter toward me again, but at least this time, there's a stool between us that I'm not allowing him to move. "I want you to be mine."

Bile builds in my throat for the third freaking time at his words, but I choke it back. Not that puking on Garrison would be the worst thing in the world.

No, that would be fucking him.

"Go on a date with me, and you can have your weekend alone," he continues, teasingly thrusting his cock at the stool, making it press against my pelvis as if it will arouse me.

"Alright." I tap the counter, feigning deep thought. I flash him a bright grin, watching a smirk cross his gross lips. "I think I'm free the weekend of... it's never gonna happen."

Garrison's eyes flare with anger as he steps closer. It's clear he's not used to being rejected by women. I'm probably the only girl in town who hasn't accepted his advances. He looks like he's about to say something, but the entrance bell rings, cutting him off.

"Oh, good. You're showing him to use the register," Dad says brightly. I love the man, but he's as oblivious to the world as a blind goldfish. "Once you're done with that, Garrison, could you help me load this last stack of boxes into my truck?"

"Oh, we're done, Dad. Aren't we, Garrison?" I say, patting his chest with a touch of forced cheer.

Why do all the built ones in this town have to be asshats?

Garrison's face slips back into his charming mask, and he flashes my dad a smile.

"Sure thing, Richard. Let me just use the bathroom first." He carefully turns towards the back room, making sure my dad can't see why he so desperately needs a bathroom break.

I cringe, imagining him jerking off to whatever twisted fantasies he's cooked up about us doing it.

Dad leans against the counter, giving me a gentle wag of his finger. "Be nice to him while I'm gone."

"I'm always nice," I reply, smirking.

"Then be nicer than nice to him," he says, picking up one of the last stacks. "You never know, he could be the one."

I huff, leaning against the counter as he heads for the truck. "Yeah, to give me syphilis."

He turns back to me, his bright smile lighting up the room. "Anything special you want me to bring back for you?"

I smile, unable to help myself. It's partly his infectious grin, but mostly because we both know exactly what I'm going to ask for. The same thing I've always asked for since I was a little girl every time he and my mom would go on a trip.

I bite my lip, pretending to think it over before my brows shoot up. "The most beautiful flower you can find."

"Done." He nods and heads out the door.

Author's Note:

Thank you so much for diving into the start of Isabelle's journey! This is my very first story on Wattpad, and I'm beyond excited (and a little nervous!) to share it with you. I'd love to hear your first impressions, thoughts on Isabelle's decision, or anything that stood out to you. Your feedback and support mean the world to me, so please drop a comment with your thoughts and consider giving this chapter a vote if you enjoyed it. Let's embark on this adventure together!