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CHAPTER THREE: COLD MOON - PART ONE
Dawn held her phone in a crushing grip and seethed as she stared at her tree. And the checkered blanket spread on the ground with a picnic basket. And the man sitting in the middle of it, smiling proudly up at her like a fucking puppy.
Her lips thinned. “Tucker, what are you doing here?”
He waved his hands to the blanket. “Well, you keep saying that you don’t have time to go out on a date with me,” he said smugly, grinning at his own genius, as he pulled sandwiches and chips and sodas out of the basket, “so I brought the date to you.” He patted the empty patch of blanket beside him, urging her to sit.
Dawn frowned. It was almost sweet. Like some scene out of one of her books or the latest rom-com K-drama. He’d clearly put thought and effort into this. For her. She should be flattered. Pleased.
Instead, she was pissed.
She’d come here to read. In peace. Alone. She’d had a hard day, having broken up a pretty serious fight between some of the kids in her class, resulting in more than a few awkward conversations with the kids involved, the class as a whole, parents, coworkers, and administration. And the idea of having to now sit next to Tucker and act flattered — act pleased — made her want to scream. So looking at him with the same stare she’d leveled at the misbehaving children today, she asked him, “How did you know I’d be here?”
His cheeks flushed as he shrugged. “I’ve noticed that you like to read here after dinner until dark.”
Her eyes narrowed, not liking how much he noticed — how much he seemed to know — about her and her goingson. Sure, they were neighbors. Sure, they lived in and often shared the same spaces. But did the man do anything other than watch her all day and take goddamned notes on when and where and with whom she did things? For God’s sake, not even her sisters knew this much about her life.
“I hope you like turkey.”
Her gaze narrowed on the sandwich he held out to her, his fingers clutching the slightly soggy bread.
She sighed. He was not getting the hint. She was going to have to be more clear, wasn’t she? Just spell it out straight and let it be awkward between them. Blunt but uncomfortable had to be better than this, didn’t it? She took a deep breath. “Tucker,” she said with a tense smile, “if I’ve given you the wrong impression, I’m sorry. I really am not looking for a romantic relationship right now. With anyone.” But especially not with him.
He winked at her. “Well, you know what they say about when you stop looking for romance.” Continuing to beam at her, he patted the blanket again. “That’s when it finds you.”
She continued to frown. Of all the cultural romantic tropes, the one she fucking hated the most was the idea that persistence paid off. That, if someone just stuck around and kept trying, if they just wore a person down enough, they could somehow turn that person’s no into a yes.
She took a deep breath in and let it out slowly, forcing herself to stay cool, stay calm. “I’m not interested.” She’d told him that. Many times now. “I need you to respect that.” Or she’d…
What?
It wasn’t like she could do anything. She couldn’t exactly avoid him and she couldn’t afford to move away. She supposed she could report him to management, but what would she even say? He asked me out; I turned him down, but he just keeps asking. Even to her, it sounded like some squabble between the kids she taught. Something she should be able to handle on her own. Like an adult and not some tattling child. Besides, she didn’t want him fired. She didn’t even want him disciplined. She just wanted him to fucking stop.
So she looked him in the eye. “Please respect that.” Not knowing what else to do, she clutched her phone and turned around. Looked like she wouldn’t be reading outside today. Irritated, she headed back to her apartment. Maybe she should head into town. Go to the library or the diner or the cafe and read, if she wanted to be out. But she’d wanted to go to the garden, wanted to sit under her tree, and just enjoy the fresh air. And the fact that she felt like she couldn’t… irked her.
She let out a frustrated sound, stomping her hoof, only to stop at a strange echoing step. Out of the corner of her eye, she glanced behind her toward the dumpsters. Her breath hitched when she saw Tucker, his basket in his hand, step onto the pavement. In a glance, she took in the hard look on his face and the way his tight, white fist gripped the basket’s handle. He looked… mad.
She’d expected him to be disappointed or embarrassed. Upset, even. She’d hoped he would be sorry or at least resigned. But angry? Her steps quickened as she headed back to her building. But, as she fought the instinctive need to flash her tail, she could feel his every step match her own.
She shook her head and clenched her terrified tail, trying to force it flat and failing. Stop it. She was letting her imagination run away from her again. Of course, he was following her. They lived in the same building; where else did she expect him to go? She needed to calm down, get her emotions under control; she was being absolutely ridiculous. So she made herself slow down, to walk as normally as possible through the parking lot.
But she could feel each step — and its following echo — pound through her as she moved. Tail flagging white and wide, she stiffened as her legs ached to run. She knew she was overreacting, but she swore she could feel his gaze bore into her back as they walked. Swore she could hear a low, hungry laugh. Heart racing, she felt suddenly sick, her stomach clenching and her lungs fighting the urge to heave.
Jesus, what the hell was wrong with her? Panicking over nothing. She was fine. This was her home. She was safe. She had no reason to be afraid. So she would stop. Right now. She tried to swallow her fear, tried to tamp it down, but it throbbed, loud and insistent, in her head like a siren. Stop.
“Dawn!”
She looked up and saw Grace waving at her from her car. A relieved breath whooshed out Dawn’s throat as she hurried toward the woman. She let the woman thrust bags of groceries at her and prattle on about the price of this and that and the length of the lines at the checkout lanes, while she and Freddy carried paper-bagged food up to their apartment.
Once at her door, Grace unlocked it and shoved the groceries from Dawn’s arms into Freddy’s already overburdened ones. As Freddy headed in, Grace turned to Dawn. “Sorry about that. Didn’t mean to make you lug our things up the stairs.”
Dawn shook her head. “It was no trouble.”
Grace frowned. “Normally, I’d just let Freddy carry everything up.” She shook her head. “But the way that boy was looking at you…” She shuddered a bit before furrowing her brow. “I didn’t like it and neither should you. He looked like he was about to…” She shook her head and pursed her lips together. “You need to be careful of that one.”
“Who?” Dawn let out a weak laugh, thinking — hoping — Grace must be kidding.
Grace gave her a skeptical look and glanced down at the floor below them.
“Tucker?” Dawn rolled her eyes, the distance helping her regain her cool. “It’s not what you think.” She shook her head and tucked her tail. “It’s nothing. He just… has a little crush.” She shrugged and waved it off. “You know how men can be sometimes.”
Grace raised an eyebrow. “A crush?” The way she said that, made the word sound… dangerous. Violent. Grace crossed her arms over her chest and narrowed her gaze at Dawn. “You listen to me. You didn’t see him just now. You be careful of him and you get that door of yours fixed.”
Dawn stared at the serious, warning — worried — expression on her neighbor’s face and wondered what, from her perspective, she’d seen.
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