The Thief's Stolen Kisses

Chapter One

Penny

I yawn, rubbing sleep out of my eyes, impatiently waiting my turn in line.

The hum of the bakery helps gently wake me up, though I’d prefer an IV of coffee.

If I had any coffee at home, I wouldn’t be here.

Honestly, I don’t really like going anywhere when it’s busy here in Evergreen Hills.

I’ve lived here my entire life, and I’ve never really felt like I fit in, least of all with the gossips right in front of me.

The people here aren’t necessarily mean, they’re just so different from me. Half of them want to get out of this small town, and the other half are begging their family to move back. No one seems like they’re genuinely happy to be here.

My parents weren’t like that. Before they passed away, they loved living here. The two of them were made for small town living, and I think they made their friends glad to be where they were. After the car accident that took their lives, there was a definite shift in the way this town ran.

I had some support from their friends for a while, but then I graduated high school and everyone left me alone. I guess they expected me to leave like just about every other young person here.

I’ve considered it. At least once a week I think about leaving my childhood home, taking the sizable trust that my parents left for me and start fresh somewhere else.

If I had any idea of where I might want to go, I think I would.

It’s just that nowhere else is home to me.

Sure, Evergreen Hills hasn’t ever felt like home, but I was born and raised here.

Despite my general dislike of the place, it’s comfortable.

Whatever. I’m still young, nineteen, with my whole life ahead of me. I have time to figure it out. Maybe I’ll apply to college in a big city. I don’t think I’m suited to that kind of life, but you never know until you try.

I take a step forward, getting closer to the front of the line when a conversation pulls me out of my thoughts. My ears perk up, but I keep my head down. It’s too early to be yanked into gossip with the townspeople. I barely have the patience for it on a good day.

“Again?” the woman in front of me is saying. “Nobody has caught him yet?”

“Apparently not,” the cashier sighs, her fingertips drumming against the countertop. “The last break in was three months ago.”

I furrow my brow. Crime is rare here. And, if things like theft happen, it’s not hard to find the perpetrator. Everyone knows everyone. Although, there was that kidnapping a few months back, so I guess anything’s possible.

“Y’all really need to get cameras,” the customer sighs, leaning against the counter, unconcerned about the line that’s behind her – the line that keeps getting longer.

“I guess,” the cashier says. “But it’s not like money was stolen.”

The customer makes a noise of disbelief. “Someone broke in and didn’t take money? I find that hard to believe.”

“It’s true,” the cashier says, her voice pitching with the excitement of gossiping. “But you know what they did take?”

“What?” the customer says, leaning in close like she’s listening to a scary story.

“Basically all of the pastries we made and half the fresh loaves of bread,” the cashier replies, apparently loving having an audience. I wonder how many times she’s told this story this morning. “It took so long to get our inventory restocked. We had to open an hour late.”

“Is that why this place is so packed right now?” the woman asks, and I can’t resist rolling my eyes. It’s so packed because people like her are holding up the line.

“Yup,” the cashier replies. “We actually had to call some people in so they could work the ovens to replenish what we lost.”

The customer hums, glancing behind the cashier and into the kitchen. “So, do you know who did it?”

“Not sure,” the cashier admits with a shrug. “The guys always blame the man in the woods.”

“Really?” the customer asks.

“He’s not real, you know?” I say, unable to hold my tongue. The two look at me with contempt, the cashier sneering as she says, “What would you know? You barely leave your house.”

My face burns with embarrassment, and I tune out the rest of their conversation.

The mysterious man in the woods is nothing more than an Evergreen Hills urban legend.

He’s the closest thing we have to Bigfoot.

Every once in a while there’ll be a “sighting” where someone will claim to have seen him looking in their windows or stealing something from their house.

I’ve never really bought into the idea. In my opinion, a group of kids made him up when something in their parents’ house went missing and ran with the idea. You tell enough people about something like that, at least a few of them are bound to believe you.

Even my parents told me about the man in the woods.

It was their way of warning me against going out there.

I think I would have preferred that they were honest with what the dangers were.

Just tell me that there are bears and wolves out there.

Those are infinitely more terrifying than some fabled man in the woods.

A few minutes later, their discussion finally wraps up and I’m able to order my coffee and one of the pastries the staff had to replace. Then, I take my goodies to go, trying not to notice the stares and mutters as I pass. What is their problem with me anyway?

I make it through the crowd and to the door when I suddenly feel unsettled, a prickle racing down my spine.

I turn, searching the bakery, when I lock eyes on Carl, the owner, standing behind the counter with his arms crossed and staring at me.

I can’t decipher his gaze, but it doesn’t give me a good feeling.

This isn’t the first time I’ve felt creeper vibes coming off of him.

I turn swiftly, almost running into the door in my haste, and leave as quickly as possible.

I make the short walk home and try to rid myself of the jittery feeling Carl left me with.

Once inside, I take a deep breath, make myself comfortable at the table, and focus on devouring the delicious pastry and coffee.

After I curb my cravings, I get on my computer and take some time scrolling through my favorite news sites.

It doesn’t take long until the conversation I overheard at the bakery fades to the back of my mind.

Who cares about the man in the woods, anyway?

My day is pretty uneventful from there. I haven’t found a job because I can’t figure out what appeals to me.

Living in Evergreen Hills without my parents has left me in a strange sort of limbo.

I don’t want to be here and assimilate into the community I’m a part of, but I also haven’t put much thought into leaving.

After scrolling through possible college programs, I get up to tidy my space.

Nothing jumps out at me, and I wonder if anything’s held my interest since the car accident that took my parents from me.

Maybe I should be spending time looking for a therapist instead, but I really don’t want to talk to anyone at the practice in Evergreen Hills.

I know they aren’t allowed to discuss my issues with anyone else, but I don’t like the idea of anyone who’s known me my entire life knowing how I’m struggling.

Evening arrives softly, carrying the sound of cicadas on the wind.

I make myself a glass of iced tea and grab a book to sit on my front porch.

This is my favorite time of day. The sun slowly sinks over the hills, kissing everything it touches.

This time of year, the weather is still warm enough to enjoy the evening.

I’m about halfway through the first chapter when I hear commotion down the road. I elect to ignore it, figuring that it’s some get-together that I wasn’t invited to.

When the noise gets louder, I sigh, closing my novel and putting it to the side. With a glance down the road, I find the source of the sounds. There’s a huge group of people, maybe everyone in town, coming toward me. I furrow my brow but don’t get up.

They get closer, and I expect them to pass me by without a word, but they stop in front of my house. Still, I stay in my chair, unsure of what’s happening. Some of them look angry, other’s look unsure. Carl stands at the front of the crowd, what looks to be a strip of fabric dangling in his hands.

“What’s going on?” I ask, the hair on the back of my neck standing up.

“We’ve come up with an idea to fix the theft problem,” Carl says, eyeing me up and down, something crazed in his eyes. “And you can help with that.”

“Oh?” I say, my hands tightening on the chair. Every fiber of my body is telling me to run, but I stay where I am. “And how’s that?”

“I was talking to everyone,” he says, sounding way too conversational for the murderous look in his eyes, “and since you don’t believe that there’s someone coming and stealing from us, you’ll be the least scared to go and look for him.”

“I’m not sure I follow,” I say, sucking in a harsh breath when the crowd starts to move forward.

“Well, we’re going to send you out to the woods,” he explains, nearing the stairs. “You look for him, and if you find him, you let him know we don’t appreciate him coming and terrorizing our town.”

“You’re crazy,” I say, finally getting up. My legs shake beneath me. “You can’t just command me to go and look for a mythical thief in the woods.”

“We thought you’d resist,” he says, rushing up and grabbing me before I’m able to bolt. “That’s why I brought all of these reinforcements.”

“You can’t,” I gasp, fighting against his grip. Someone else walks up and takes the blindfold from his hands. “Are you all insane? I could have you thrown in prison.”

Carl chuckles as he holds me still, “Who’s going to believe you against an entire town?

” As much as I try to fight, I can’t stop the other man from tying the blindfold over my eyes.

“Since you’re not willing to be a helpful member of this town, we’re going to have to take you out there ourselves and make sure you can’t find your way back. ”

“Stop,” I say weakly, feeling someone tying something around my ankles. “Just let me go. Please.”

“Sorry, Penny,” he says, his mouth close to my ear. “We have to do this. And if you wouldn’t have put up such a fight, we might have gone easier on you.”

My fighting is pointless. They get my arms tied easily – there are too many people with their hands on me, keeping me restrained.

And, once they have me completely immobilized, I’m yanked away from my front porch.

I don’t know what direction we’re going or who’s holding onto me, and I’ve never been more terrified in my life.