Timid (Lark Cove Book 2)

by Devney Perry

  “Hey.” I slipped a hand from my pocket and gave her a corny wave.

  Her face disappeared from the window and she freed the deadbolt. My heart was thumping in triple time as she turned the door’s knob.

  “Jackson?” She opened the door an inch.

  “Yeah, it’s me. Sorry, it’s late.”

  The door opened wider and she stepped under the frame. Her hair was piled in a huge, blond nest on top of her head. She was wearing yellow pajama pants with white stars on the cotton and a thin, white V-neck tee.

  “What are you doing here?” Her arms crossed underneath her breasts, thrusting them higher. In the cool night air, her nipples hardened.

  My cock jerked behind my zipper and I used every bit of my willpower to keep it from growing hard.

  “I, uh . . . this is going to sound crazy.” My motto for the night. “I’ve been having these dreams. About . . . you. I was wondering if maybe you’d want to, um . . .” I should have thought this through. What exactly did I want from Willa?

  A date, I guess.

  “Um, what?” she asked, waiting for an answer.

  “Would you want to maybe go out sometime?”

  Her mouth fell open, ever so slightly, and I stared at her bottom lip. It was so full and pink. Her lips were the perfect shade for her complexion. They matched the sexy blush of her cheeks.

  “You want to go out with me?”

  I nodded, the corners of my mouth turning up as I waited for the inevitable yes.

  But my grin fell when she took one big step backward.

  And slammed the door in my face.

  “Did that just happen?” I asked the door.

  Now he decides to show up?

  Now he asks me on a date?

  Now?

  Unbelievable.

  “Why?” I whispered to myself.

  Why was he here now? Had he remembered our night under the stars? Was he drunk again?

  I reached for the door, wanting answers, but before I touched the knob, I snatched my fingers away.

  Don’t open the door, Willa. Don’t do it.

  I’d spent the last two weeks kicking myself in the rear for my ridiculous crush on Jackson Page. I’d berated myself constantly for being so incredibly naïve. And I’d done everything in my power to block him out.

  But the problem was, I’d spent too many years dreaming about him. Nine, to be exact. Thinking about Jackson, looking for him in town, had become ingrained into my routine.

  Today, I’d finally made progress. I’d signed up for an online dating profile. I’d driven by the bar and hadn’t let myself look for his truck. I’d even boxed up all of my old diaries, the ones filled with Jackson’s name, and taken them to my parents’ basement for storage.

  I was moving on from Jackson Page.

  Or so I’d thought, until he showed up at my door.

  Why was he here? Why now? The curiosity was killing me. I reached for the knob again, jerking my hand back again just before my fingertips could brush the metal.

  Gah! Why?

  I had to know. Because maybe if I got some answers, I could stop being mad at Jackson for forgetting me. I could stop being mad at myself for letting this crush of mine go on for . . . far too long. This time I let my hand touch the knob.

  I would get my answers, then it would be enough.

  A rush of unfamiliar confidence surged as I twisted the knob open and yanked back the door. In my haste, I nearly hit myself in the nose.

  Jackson was on the first step down, but when he heard me, he came back up to the landing. A hopeful, infuriatingly beautiful grin spread over his face.

  “Why are you here?” I stepped right into his space, holding my chin high and narrowing my gaze.

  He blinked and the grin disappeared. “Uh . . . to ask you out.”

  “That’s it? There’s nothing else you want to maybe discuss?” I strung the words out, giving him plenty of opportunity to fess up if he did remember our kiss.

  “Uh, yeah.” He gave me a sideways look. “That’s it.”

  “You’re sure?” I studied his face, searching for a flicker of recognition, but came away with nothing.

  “Pretty sure.” He cocked his head to the side. “Is everything okay?”

  “Super,” I muttered, leaning in closer. His eyes were clear, and there was no alcohol on his breath.

  He really was here just to ask me out.

  And it made me angry.

  I was angry that he’d forgotten about the kiss.

  I was angry at the part of me that wanted to say yes and do a victory dance.

  I was angry that my feelings for him were so impossibly hard to let go.

  “No.” My entire body was vibrating with nerves and adrenaline. “I, um . . . no.”

  He leaned back, stunned. “No?”

  “No. I don’t want to go out with you. Not now. After . . .” I waved my hands in a big circle. “After everything.”

  His forehead wrinkled. “Everything?”

  “Everything.” With a short nod, I spun around, retreating back inside and kicking the door closed with my foot. My chest was heaving and the blood was rushing in my ears, but I still heard the soft knuckle tap on the window behind me.

  “No,” I groaned. Hadn’t I made myself clear? Couldn’t we just be done with this?

  Couldn’t I just be done with him?

  Curiosity, that wretch, made me turn around and open the door again.

  Jackson had this sheepish look on his face and—blargh—it was adorable. He lifted a hand and rubbed the back of his neck, looking at me from under his lashes.

  “What am I missing here, Willa?”

  I crossed my arms over my chest. “A lot.”

  “Care to explain?”

  Explain? To explain meant giving Jackson too much insight into my past.

  I’d been born and raised in Lark Cove, Montana. It was small and charming. Sheltered. My mom was a valued member of the community. My dad was a beloved teacher at the school.

  Students loved his energy and feared his authority alike. Boys in high school had found it safer to stay in the friend zone, and since I’d had a massive crush on Jackson anyway, I hadn’t minded one bit. I’d gone to prom with my cousin because all of the other boys in my class had already been paired up.

  When I left town for college, I will admit my crush on Jackson faded—though only slightly. There were plenty of cute boys in the dorms and a few stole my attention. But then the unthinkable happened to my best friend Leighton at a party where we’d both been drinking. After that, well . . . things changed.

  Boys became inconsequential. Partying was out of the question. We learned that the college experience so many bragged about wasn’t all that it was cracked up to be.

  The two of us moved off-campus and threw ourselves into our studies. I also got a part-time job at a preschool to ease the financial burden on my parents. So the years when most young women were experiencing their firsts, I was busy studying, working and supporting my best friend as she learned to stand tall again.

  I didn’t regret my college years. After what happened to Leighton, I made the conscious choice to only date men I knew and trusted. I went on a total of four dates in college, and though each of the guys had been a gentleman, none of them had been worthy of a first.

  None of them made my pulse race. None of them made my breath hitch. None of them were Jackson.

  It came as no surprise that after moving home, the crush I’d had on Jackson roared back to life. I fell back into the habits of my youth, daydreaming about him and no one else—not that there was a plethora of single men my age in Lark Cove. I let myself get caught up in the fantasy that he’d get all my firsts.

  I knew it was rare for someone my age to be so inexperienced. Maybe my crush on Jackson had been an excuse. Maybe I’d convinced myself it was safer to love him from afar than risk an actual relationship with anyone else.

  Or maybe it was real.

  It felt re
al.

  But at the moment, my feelings weren’t to be trusted. And I certainly couldn’t explain them, especially to Jackson.

  “Willa?” Jackson prompted. When I didn’t answer, he looked at his feet.

  I stayed still, expecting him to leave, but he just stood there. Was he waiting me out? Did he think I’d cave and spill my guts?

  He’d soon learn that I was an expert at staying quiet. I’d learned long ago that people always felt the need to fill silences with conversation. If you didn’t speak up, eventually they would.

  So I didn’t utter a word.

  Jackson began shifting his weight from one foot to the other, while I didn’t move a muscle. I was a statue—on the outside.

  On the inside, I was a twisted mess of anger and frustration and shame.

  How many years had I waited? How many months had I wasted? All I’d ever wanted was for Jackson to take notice, or at least call me by the correct first name.

  I’d just wanted one chance to see if there might be something real between us. I wasn’t delusional. The chance of us falling in love, getting married and having babies was slim. Who knew if we’d work as a couple? But I would have settled for friendship.

  Now even friendship was impossible.

  A breeze blew across the back of the garage and goose bumps broke out on my forearms. Still, I didn’t budge. The smart thing to do was to turn around and go inside. But my feet were glued to the wood underneath.

  I opened my mouth to bid him good night, but nothing came out. So I clamped it shut with a click that echoed between us.

  That made Jackson’s face split in a wide smile, like he’d won the battle of silence.

  I narrowed my eyes. As of two weeks ago, that smile had lost all of its power.

  Well, not all. But a lot.

  He crossed his arms over his chest, mirroring my stance with a dare behind those blue eyes. Then he ran his gaze up and down my body.

  I loathed the shivers it left in its wake. It was intimidating, having his bulky, brutish frame tower over me. But still, I said nothing. Instead, I let my eyes wander, giving him the same languid perusal as he’d given me.

  Jackson always wore jeans that were faded in just the right places to highlight the apex of his thick thighs. They molded over the best ass in Montana. He had on his standard black boots with the scuffed, square toes. The man must buy white T-shirts in bulk because they were always the same. They fit perfectly over washboard abs and chiseled biceps.

  Most days, he covered the T-shirt with an open plaid shirt. My favorites were the blue and green ones. They had shiny pearl snaps instead of buttons. In the summer, the plaid was cotton. In the winter, flannel. Though, regardless of the season, he always had his sleeves rolled up, revealing his tanned forearms.

  Today, Jackson was in a light blue plaid and it matched the color of his eyes. Normally, the plaid was left hanging open, but tonight he’d tucked his shirt into his narrow waistband.

  He was breathtaking. He was more handsome now than the first day I’d seen him.

  And here I was, in my jammies with bedhead.

  The breeze picked up again and I was suddenly very aware of my nipples. I didn’t need to look down to know they were on high beams underneath my cotton, V-neck tee, which had been washed thin.

  Jackson shifted his weight again, then uncrossed his arms and sighed. “You’re not going to tell me what I’m missing here, are you?”

  I blinked once for no.

  “Fine.” His scowl was endearing. “Then I’ll let you get back to sleep.”

  Without a word, I whipped around and scurried back inside. I used my foot to kick the door closed behind me so I wouldn’t have to see him again. Then my shoulders collapsed, rolling in on themselves as I let myself breathe again.

  Jackson’s boots thudded down the steps, and when I was sure he’d made it to the bottom, I went to my bed and flopped down on the mattress.

  “I will not go to the window. I will not go to the window.”

  I went to the window.

  And I watched from behind the sheer curtain as Jackson crossed my backyard, stopping once to gaze up to my garage apartment before striding through the playground on his way home.

  “You missed your chance,” I whispered. “I have to let you go.”

  After Jackson left, I went back to bed only to toss and turn all night while I waited for my alarm to go off. Then I dragged myself into the shower and got ready for work. Caffeine, Snickers and chaos fueled my Sunday at work. After a hectic day of saying good-bye to one group of campers and welcoming the next, I should have slept like a log on Sunday night.

  But thoughts of Jackson plagued my mind once again, keeping me up most of a second night. So by Monday morning, I was practically a walking zombie.

  Like all Mondays, the day started off with a counselor meeting at the camp, so for an hour, I was able to avoid all thoughts of Jackson. After the counselors and I talked through our activities for the current day and the next, I chugged a huge cup of coffee. Then I spent some time in the office making sure all of the intake forms for this week’s campers were ticked and tied. It took me twice as long as normal because I kept thinking back to Jackson on my doorstep.

  Finally, I finished in the office and scarfed down a Snickers bar before joining a group of kids in the main lodge to make dream catchers to hang above their bunk beds. The kids always gave me energy, so I fed off them for the rest of the morning.

  They were the reason I woke up with a smile most mornings. The kids were the reason I didn’t care that my job would never make me rich. I lived for my week-by-week summers until the season ended.

  It had become a bit of a challenge for myself over the years to see how much fun I could pack into a kid’s single week at summer camp. It was my mission to make them fall in love with this little slice of Montana, with its tall trees and shimmering lakes, so that when they reflected on their childhood, the memories they made here were ones they’d never forget.

  I hadn’t been here long enough yet, but one day, I hoped to greet parents who’d been to my camp and were sending their kids here to make the same kind of lasting memories.

  So while Jackson’s late-night visit had upset me, I buried those feelings and let the kids’ smiles and laughter over craft hour give me a boost.

  By ten thirty, I was starving and made my way to the kitchen. “Hi, Hazel,” I said with a smile.

  “Morning.” She smiled back as she sipped her coffee. “So did Jackson ever track you down?”

  My smile dropped. “He found me.”

  Since she was practically a member of Jackson’s family, it shouldn’t surprise me that she knew he’d come over.

  “I hope you don’t mind, but I told him where you lived.”

  “Ah.” I went to the coffee pot and poured a refill in my mug.

  Lark Cove was a small town, and after living here for a while, you learned where everyone else lived. I’d assumed that was how Jackson had known where to find me. A teensy part of me had hoped that maybe he’d actually remembered our night on the swings.

  But no. He’d had to ask Hazel.

  “What happened?” she asked.

  “Nothing.” Other than he asked me out on a date, something that two weeks ago would have sent me into joyful hysterics but now had me twisted in knots.

  “Nothing?”

  “Nothing.” I nodded and went to the list she’d taped to one of the industrial refrigerators. “Is this the grocery list?”

  “Yep. We’re running low on a few basics so it’s a bit longer than normal.”

  “No problem. We’re under budget for the summer so we can get you all restocked.”

  Hazel had started volunteering at the camp a few years ago. She’d traded her nights at the bar for days at my camp. She came in for four to five hours every weekday and prepped meals for the campers.

  The time she spent here meant my counselors could stay focused on the kids rather than scrambling to make mea
ls in between activities. And it meant that I wasn’t locked in the kitchen either. We all pitched in to make sure the kids were fed and happy, but without Hazel, things would be exponentially more stressful.

  The fact that she’d insisted on not being paid had been nothing short of miraculous. Her volunteer status was one of the reasons I’d been able to scrimp and save on the church’s meager budget and keep the place open until the Kendrick Foundation had stepped in as new owners.

  That, and I hadn’t taken a raise in over two years.

  All Hazel had asked for when she’d started volunteering was that she could dictate the menu and that we let her bring Charlie along. I’d agreed immediately. So while Thea worked at the bar, Charlie came to camp with Hazel. The girl had become an honorary full-time camper these last couple of years. Along with her gran, she made my camp a better place.

  “Are you going to stare at that list all day or tell me what happened with Jackson?”

  “Stare at the list,” I said, not looking her way.

  “Fine,” she muttered. “I’ll just ask him. Hey, Jackson.”

  “Hi,” a deep voice rumbled.

  My head whipped to the kitchen door just as Jackson strolled inside.

  He hadn’t shaved this morning and the scruff on his jaw made the corners seem even sharper. His chin had a flat spot in the center. It wasn’t a dimple, not really even a dent, just a feature that made his face even manlier.

  His appeal was annoying.

  “Hey.” He smiled at me, then looked to Hazel. “Just thought I’d come in and say hello. Thought maybe I could take you for an early lunch at the diner before I need to open the bar. With Thea and Charlie gone to New York, I thought you might want company.”

  “Please,” I mumbled, rolling my eyes.

  Thea and Charlie had been gone a whole day, and Hazel was fine without them. Jackson wasn’t here for lunch. He hadn’t been to the camp in years, not since Hazel had first started volunteering.

  He was here to pester me again.

  “Lunch, huh?” Hazel wasn’t buying it either.

  “That’s right.” He grinned. “Willa, you can come too if you’d like.”

  “I’m not hungry.” I took the grocery list and rounded the large stainless-steel table in the middle of the kitchen, going right for the side door that led to my office. “I’ll get these supplies today, Hazel.”