Timid (Lark Cove, #2)

“So that wasn’t all the kids?” I asked.

She shook her head. “No, just under half. Everyone else is out with the counselors exploring.”

“Ah.” I nodded. “I’d probably be out with them too if I were a kid. Though as an adult, I’d stay behind if that’s where you were.”

“Oh.” She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “What, um . . .” Her fingers fiddled with the clip on the board. “What’s up?”

“You read my note?”

She nodded. “I did.”

“Good.” That meant we could move on from the whole me-calling-her-by-the-wrong-name thing and get to the days where she wasn’t slamming doors in my face. “Come to the bar and have dinner with me tonight.”

“Was that an invitation or a command?”

I shrugged. “Does it matter?”

She frowned and I knew immediately that wasn’t the right thing to say. Without a word, she marched toward the building between the bunkhouses marked SHOWERS.

“Hey, wait!” I ran after her, but she was walking fast. “What about dinner?”

She didn’t answer. She just kept on marching all the way to the women’s side, disappearing inside without hesitation.

Well, fuck.

I guess my note hadn’t worked after all.

I debated going inside the showers but didn’t want to terrify a young girl if Willa wasn’t alone. So with a grumble and a kick at the dirt, I went back toward the parking lot.

I didn’t miss Hazel watching from a window in the lodge, laughing her ass off. At least I was entertaining her.

She’d be in for another show soon, because I’d be back again tomorrow.





I might have watched Jackson Page for years, but there was a lot I didn’t know about him. For one, the man was stubborn.

He was so darn stubborn it was driving me insane.

He’d been to the camp every day this week. Every. Single. Day.

After I’d escaped to the showers on Wednesday, I’d thought Jackson would give me some space and back off. But he hadn’t, not even a little. If anything, my rejection seemed to encourage his behavior.

He visited the camp every morning to sit in the kitchen and drink coffee with Hazel. I made sure I was always out and about with the kids—hiding, basically. But I could only avoid my office and the kitchen area for so long. The best part of my job was hanging with the campers, but I also enjoyed the office work. I loved the behind-the-scenes tasks, the ones that made this camp mine. And though avoiding Jackson was a priority, there were bills to pay, phone calls to return and emails from parents to answer.

Jackson loomed outside my office whenever I was there. He didn’t say much. He didn’t invite me to dinner again or ask me to stop by the bar. He was just . . . there. As he talked to Hazel, he stood in the kitchen right where he could see through my office door. Every time I glanced up from my computer, he was watching me. He’d flash me a quick smile and go back to his conversation with Hazel.

Those smiles would fluster me so completely that I couldn’t concentrate on anything. I overpaid our water bill by thirteen cents and most of the emails I sent were riddled with typos.

And it wasn’t just his camp visits either.

Jackson continued leaving me notes in my door. Every. Single. Day. Each evening when I returned home from work, I found a note waiting.

The only reprieve I’d gotten from his presence was at night. His two-in-the-morning visits had stopped, but if he thought he was sparing me sleep, he was mistaken. My mind was too busy to sleep, pondering his notes.

He didn’t press for a date in his notes or apologize again. Instead, they were just sweet and thoughtful and even funny—especially the first one.



Willa

I saw this today and it made me laugh. Thought you might like it too.

Jackson



That message had been scribbled on a yellow Post-it and stuck to a clipping from last Sunday’s Daily Inter Lake newspaper.



Craftsman Boat For Sale. Like New. $9,000.

Girlfriend Pregnant. Wife Pissed. Need Cash for Lawyer.



It wasn’t a big thing but had made me laugh.

The next note wasn’t as funny, but the smile it gave me was bigger.



Willa

In case your sweet tooth is like mine.

Jackson



He’d stuck that note on a Snickers bar. It had melted in its wrapper by the time I’d gotten home, but I’d stuck it in the freezer to harden it up. Even misshapen, it had hit the spot.

Today’s note—left early in the day—had been simple. No gift or funny gimmick. Just a note.



Willa

I hope you had a good week.

Jackson



And it had been a good week.

I never considered a group of campers bad, but there were always weeks that stood out from others. This week’s group of kids was amazing. They were all fun and energetic. Not a single one of them thought they were too cool for certain activities. We had full participation from every kid in every event.

It would be the week I’d remember from this year. They would be the group whose picture I’d frame for my office wall.

Jackson’s notes had been the icing on the cake.

I’d collected a total of four notes from the week, and I’d had more face time with Jackson than ever before. He was weakening my resolve to forget about him. The crush I’d had for so long was being rekindled, this time burning even brighter.

Two more notes and I doubted I’d be able to say no to a dinner invitation.

I had a sneaking suspicion that he knew I was about to give in too. He was probably just waiting me out to see if I’d finally cave—more like when.

Jackson’s charm was irresistible. It was like being surrounded by puppies. You couldn’t not pet them.

The only reason I was still holding strong was because of my fears. I was scared. No, terrified.

Jackson had kissed me and forgotten. He’d overlooked me for years. I could get past those problems and let it all go. Deep down, I’d already forgiven him for forgetting about our night on the swings.

What petrified me was the realization that Jackson had the power to decimate my life. I was halfway in love with him already. If he made me fall the rest of the way, then tossed me aside, I’d be destroyed.

He’d leave me utterly and completely broken.

So here I was, standing at a crossroad. On one side was self-preservation. Jackson Page was on the other.

My phone rang on the kitchen counter and I rushed over to grab it. Seeing Leighton’s picture on the screen, I answered with a smile. “Hey!”

“So? Did you get another note?”

I smiled. “Yes.”

After our dinner with June and Hannah earlier in the week, I’d called and told her all about Jackson. She was on Jackson’s side of my crossroad, waving me over.

“I’ll be there in a sec.” She hung up before I could respond.

I laughed and went to unlock the door since it wouldn’t take her long to get here.

Leighton lived on the other side of town, the “lake side” whereas I lived on the “town side.” The highway was the divider, separating the larger homes on the shoreline from the majority of businesses and locals’ homes on the other.

She hadn’t always lived on the lakeside. When we were kids, her family had lived a couple of blocks away. But her dad was in construction and had made a lot of money over the last twenty years building extravagant lake homes. He’d worked hard, and as a twenty-fifth wedding anniversary present to Leighton’s mom, he’d invested in some lakefront property of his own and built them a beautiful home.

He’d also built a boathouse for Leighton, so like me, she lived on her parents’ property but in her own space.

Ten minutes later, after she’d walked across the highway and up a few blocks to my house, Leighton was sitting next to me on the edge of my bed with Jackson’s note in her hand.

“He loves you.”

I rolled my eyes. “He doesn’t love me. He just wants . . . well, I don’t know exactly what he wants.”