Page 42 of Timid (Lark Cove 2)

Why was he standing so close? My parents were right there. Our table was one of four tall, square ones in the center of the room and there was plenty of space between tables.

Plenty. P-L-E-N-T-Y.

But was Jackson using any of that plentiful space?

No sirree. He stayed pressed against the back of my chair, like there were only three inches of usable space behind him, not three feet.

My skin prickled he was so close. I tried to nudge my chair forward again, but it barely moved. Sweat beaded on my temples and I pulled in a shaking breath.

Jackson’s woodsy, rich scent was everywhere. It overpowered the stale beer, pizza and peanuts, and I inhaled a deep breath, unable to resist.

Sexy Hot Forest. That’s what they’d call his cologne.

“Willa, you look flushed.”

“Huh?” My eyes whipped to Mom, but she’d already turned to Jackson.

“You’d better bring her some ice water, Jackson.”

“Sure, Betty.” The vibrations from his rumble hit my neck, making my cheeks burn even hotter.

My face had been red since we’d walked in the door.

The moment Jackson had seen me trailing into the bar behind my parents, a smug smile had spread across his face. He’d gotten this sexy glint in his eye as he’d watched us take our seats. Well, as he’d watched me take my seat. Then he’d unleashed the swagger, rounding the bar with long, confident strides that made my heart race.

If that hadn’t gotten me flustered enough, Jackson had foregone his standard plaid shirt. Tonight, it was just faded jeans, boots and a black T-shirt that fit snugly across his chest and biceps.

There was a lot of muscle action happening behind me. I willed my shoulders to stay straight and not give in to the temptation to lean backward and sink into that heat Jackson was radiating. I squirmed in my chair as a coil tightened between my legs.

This sexual tension was going to kill me.

I pulled in a deep breath, blocking out Jackson’s smell, and did my best to get ahold of my internal temperature.

“I’ll bring you all waters,” Jackson told Mom and Dad. “What else can I get for you tonight?”

As he spoke, he drummed his fingers on the back of my chair, brushing his knuckles ever so slightly against my shoulder blades.

Tingles shot down my spine, forcing me to straighten even more. My ribs slammed against the table, making the condiment rack wiggle.

“Sorry,” I muttered, grabbing the bar menu that was sandwiched between a bottle of ketchup and one of hot sauce.

As I studied the same list of pizza toppings I

’d memorized years ago, I took another breath. But with my torso pressed against the table, I couldn’t get enough air.

Jackson shifted even closer, his forearms resting on the back of my chair. It put those dangerous knuckles up against my tank top, trapping me in my place.

“We’re celebrating tonight, Jackson.” Dad pulled his glasses from his shirt pocket to examine the row of liquor bottles behind the bar. “So I guess I’ll have a vodka martini, please. Extra dry, no olives.”

“Oooh!” Mom wagged her eyebrows at Dad and purred, “Feeling frisky tonight, Mr. Doon?”

“Eww, Mom,” I groaned. “Gross.”

She giggled, then looked up at Jackson and winked. “I’ll have the same.”

“You got it.” He chuckled and bent his head lower, his breath whispering over my ear. “What would you like?”

A shiver ran down my back and my shoulders shimmied. The movement caused me to rub against his knuckles. It was just a slight touch, but the heat from his fingers singed through the back of my tank.