4. Chapter Three

I’ve had the itch across my skin of someone watching me, but anytime I look around, I don’t see a soul. Maybe I’m losing my mind. It’s been a long day. I’ve groomed six dogs and a cat dug her claws into my arm. Now, there are five marks across my forearm. On top of that, there is Husky hair in mine and I can’t seem to get it out.

“Okay, let’s meet at Jumper’s in an hour? What do you say?” Morgan clips the leash on Fletcher, genuine excitement flashing across her features to actually hang out with me.

She doesn’t seem to be tired at all. She did so well on her first day and the animals took to her easily. I’d be a fool not to hire her when we really need the help. I can’t keep working these long hours. I’m about to fall over.

“Really? You’re still up for it after a day like today?”

“I’m up for it because of a day like today.”

That’s fair.

I shake my head and Husky hair floats through the air.

She chuckles, scratching Fletcher’s ears. “I suppose that Husky won the war during his grooming?”

“They always do. Okay, I’ll meet you at the bar in an hour.”

She brightens, then her eyes shift to the back room. “Will the dogs be okay?”

“Oh, yeah. They have air conditioning, each dog has a twin bed, blankets, toys, bones, and a grassy area to use the bathroom, and each cubicle has a small TV that plays animal-friendly shows. Owners can call and video chat their pets too. It’s a great setup.”

“Wow. It’s like a little hotel.”

I nod in agreement, untying my apron and drape it across my arm. I’m going to have to wash this by itself due to all the hair on it. I snag my keys from next to the register, the metal clinking together and irking my tired nerves.

I’m about to tell her the doggy hotel is one of the reasons why I wanted to work here until her phone rings, interrupting our small talk.

“Ashley! You have to come meet us for drinks at Jumper’s,” Morgan practically yells into the phone as if she’s in a dead zone in the middle of nowhere.

I begin to head out the door, jiggling my keys to let Morgan know it’s time to go, and she follows. Locking Paws and Purrs behind me, a shiver runs down my spine, that feeling of being watched returns. Furrowing my brows, I glance over my right shoulder, then my left, staring down the sidewalk to see if I notice anything out of the norm.

There’s nothing, just an old lady walking her poodle, and to the right is a younger woman wearing headphones with her music turned up so loud, even I can hear the dancing rhythm from where I’m standing.

“Ashley is going to meet us there too. Her ex has Jax for the night. She needs to get out.”

“I can only imagine,” I mumble, unable to hide how uneasy I feel.

“What’s wrong?” Morgan flips her hair over her shoulder, frowning at me in concern, and wrinkles appear deep on either side of her lips.

“Nothing. I’m just a little tired. I’ll see you at Jumper’s, okay?”

She eyes me for a moment, studying me to see if I’m lying. I know she doesn’t believe me, but luck must be on my side because she lets the issue go. “Okay, well if you need me, I’m a phone call away. I’ll see you in an hour.”

“Sounds good.” I watch her leave, then let out a long, deep breath. I really didn’t want to explain myself. I’ll sound insane and paranoid.

No one in this town has ever been stalked. Crime is so low, I can’t remember the last time the cops here made an arrest. Hell, the deputies drink on the job. I wouldn’t be surprised if I saw them at Jumper’s.

My car is only across the street, but my feet can’t move. My body is frozen. Fear begins to fill my lungs instead of air. All my life I’ve known what danger feels like. There’s a wickedness about it, a heavy blanket of toxin that drapes over me. Too many foster homes, too many times of being abused, too many times where I had hope that maybe I’d be safe, but hopelessness was all I was allowed.

Goosebumps pebble over my arms, traveling down my legs and up my spine. I swallow, taking one last glimpse around before dashing across the road to my car. When I get to the car door, I fumble with the keys, dropping them on the ground.

“I swear, Ollie. You’d be the first to die in an apocalypse because you’re such a coward,” I groan to myself, getting on my hands and knees because of course the keys slide under the damn car. “This is how I would die. I know it. A zombie would come out and bite me on the leg, and I don’t know how to defend myself, so I’d turn into a zombie too. You’re a damn mess.” I keep up the pep talk until I wrap my hands around the keys, then inch backwards.

Dusting off my jeans, I slip the key into the lock when my eyes catch on a man in the reflection of the glass.

He’s standing right behind me.

I gasp, spinning around so fast I get dizzy, but no one is there.

“What the fuck?” I dart my eyes around the section of downtown. Every building is a different shade. Blue, red, green, purple, name a color and it’s here. I love it. It brings happiness. It’s different than any other town I’ve ever seen, but it’s hiding something unknown, something dangerous. I feel it on my skin as if I’m standing out in the middle of a storm and rain is falling, soaking me to the core.

I know I saw someone standing behind me. I’m not crazy. He was tall with pitch black hair and the brightest green eyes I’ve ever seen. He was handsome even if he scared me. Not wanting to waste another minute, I hop into my car and drive away as fast— and safely— as possible.

“I really do need that drink.” I rub a hand over my face, exhaustion starting to set in quick.

It doesn’t take me long to get home since I only live ten minutes from the shop. I pull into the parking lot of my one-bedroom apartment that has seen better days. The landlord is a cranky old man who doesn’t fix anything when I ask him to, so I’ve had to do it. The outside is rundown with dead grass and weeds. The front windows are cracked and half the porch sags. The roof is missing shingles, the gutters are clogged, and the oven is on the fritz. That’s just the start of the list. There is so much more.

I can’t afford to live anywhere else right now. I have medical debt that I’m paying, and it makes living hard. At the time, I didn’t have health insurance when I got into my car accident. I nearly died. I had one of my kidneys removed and severe blood loss. I was impaled by a log after a truck ran me off the road. I lost control, smashed into a pile of lumber. I got lucky, so says the doctor. A smaller piece is what impaled me. Any bigger and I would have died.

I’m thankful I’m alive, but I’ll be paying off this debt for the rest of my life which means basic living and dealing with a leaky roof, a crooked porch, broken windows, and everything else on top of that.

Some people get dealt a great hand in life and others have to fight tooth and nail to survive. I’m okay with having the second option. I’ve never known anything else but struggle and I’m not sure if I’d know how to live my life if I didn’t.

Getting out of the car, I slam the door and run up the path that’s overgrown with weeds, then keep to the left of the porch stairs because one inch in the other direction and I’m afraid the entire porch will collapse.

The wood creaks under my weight and I pause, hoping by some miracle it doesn’t fall under me. The last thing I want is to get impaled by wood again— rotten wood— at that.

Pushing the door open with my hip, the weight from today vanishes when I see my living room. There’s nothing like the feeling of being at home. Nothing compares to it. It’s as if the exhaustion of the day finally escapes you and you’re left relaxed for the first time since waking up.

Now that I am home, I don’t want to go out, but I won’t cancel on Morgan. She seems nice and I need to get out of the house.

I make my way to the bathroom through the living room. While the outside looks like crap, the inside doesn’t. I’ve put a lot of time and effort in to making this place feel like a home. The floors are original, but I sanded and stained them again. The couch I got in new condition at the local thrift store, and I shampooed it just in case. The oversized sofa did sit inside a dusty shop. It’s a small blue sectional with a reclining seat.

Art hangs on the wall, but there are no family photos.

I don’t have any.

I don’t even have pictures of my parents. I’ve forgotten what they looked like. I don’t remember anything about them. I try not to dwell on that too much, but living in a place that has no personal memories or experiences reminds me of the hollow life I’ve been living.

“Damn,” I curse, checking the time. It’s what I get for not hurrying. I don’t have much time to get ready.

Grabbing the cat food, I pour Mr. Hanks a fresh bowl and the sound of the kibble hitting the dish has him rushing from the bedroom. He slides across the kitchen, meowing as he passes me, and only stops once he hits the wall.

“You have to slow down, Mr. Hanks.”

“Meow,” he replies, rubbing against my leg. “Meow. Meow.”

“I know.” I tap his head, pretending I know what the hell he is saying. “I love food too. I get just as excited as you.” I give him a quick scratch behind the ears before dashing to the bathroom.

I hear his chomping as he eats and get undressed, showered, and changed in a record time.

I think I got all the husky out of my hair. I’m not sure. I can’t brush it because then it looks like a bush that hasn’t been trimmed.

No thank you.

I choose a simple pair of dark jeans and a plain green shirt. Nothing special since I don’t have anyone to impress. Then, debate if I want to wear cologne or perfume.

The sweet scent of vanilla and cinnamon wins.

I spritz a little on my neck and wrists, then I’m on my way out the door with ten minutes to spare. I’m going to be a little late.

“Bye, Mr. Hanks!” I shout at my cat, hearing a faint meow as I shut and lock the door.

Then, I gasp. There is a dark-haired—handsome—man standing on my lawn. I blink, rubbing my eyes to wake up, and when I open them, he’s gone.

“I need that damn drink,” I mumble, getting into my car and heading to Jumper’s.

If that man is a figment of my imagination, there’s part of me that hopes my mind never stops playing tricks on me because damn.

The stranger is gorgeous, but what would someone like that want with someone like me?