Page 6 of Timid (Lark Cove 2)

Heat broke across my cheeks and I managed a breathy “Hi.”

“Is this swing taken?”

I shook my head.

He grinned, then somehow fit his large frame into the small black rubber seat. His broad shoulders extended past the chains by at least five inches on each side, his jean-covered legs too long for the short seat.

“Nice night.”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

It came out quieter than I had intended, probably because I’d stopped breathing. So I ducked my chin into a shoulder and pulled in a long breath through my nostrils, hoping he couldn’t hear me shaking.

The chains on his swing creaked as he dug a heel into the wood chips and propelled himself backward. “It’s probably not safe for you to be out here at night.”

“I have this whistle.” I held it up so he could see it. “And some pepper spray in my pocket.”

“Is that what you were reaching for when you spotted me?”

“Sorry.” Mortification crept up my face, flaming my already hot cheeks. The last thing I wanted was for Jackson Page to think I was scared of him. Well, I was scared. More like terrified. But only because I’d crushed on him for basically my entire teenage and adult life.

“I’m just teasing you.” He chuckled. “I’m glad you have the spray. Though I’d feel even better if you were behind a locked door at night, not sitting alone in a playground.”

I gripped the chains on my swing tighter so I couldn’t jump up and start dancing around. He was concerned about me. Me. Willa Doon, the girl who’d been trying to get his attention for nearly a decade.

Jackson pushed off the ground again, letting the silence of the night s

urround us.

Too shy to say anything, I resumed my swinging too. The color in my face drained away in the cool rush of air. Every time Jackson swung forward and I swung back, I’d catch a whiff of his spicy scent, cloves mixed with forest moss.

A combination that shouldn’t have smelled so good, but boy did it ever.

“Crazy day.”

“What?” I asked as it clicked what he was talking about. “Oh! You mean with Thea. Yeah. That was crazy.”

Two executives from the Kendrick Foundation had flown to Montana today to check out my camp. I’d taken them on a tour and that’s when they’d agreed to buy the place and keep me on as director. To celebrate, I’d taken them down to the bar for a drink.

The Lark Cove Bar was where Jackson had worked for years alongside his childhood friend, Thea. I’d gotten to know Thea and her five-year-old daughter, Charlie, over the years. They were awesome, but I’d never had the courage to ask about Charlie’s father.

It turns out, I hadn’t needed to ask. I’d had a front-row seat as Thea had dropped the bomb of a lifetime on one of the executives I’d brought to the bar.

Logan Kendrick, the chairman of the foundation and now my boss, had met Thea years ago in the city. I hadn’t gotten the dirty details, but I’d deduced from the show that they’d hooked up without sharing important info, like last names or phone numbers. She’d gotten pregnant and come to Montana as a single mom. He’d come out today to buy a camp and gotten a daughter as a bonus.

It was the biggest drama we’d had in Lark Cove in ages.

“How is Thea doing?” I asked.

“I dunno.” He went back to his swinging.

I pushed off the ground, swinging back and forth too, stealing glances at Jackson as our swings crossed at the bottom.

That was the story of my life, watching Jackson Page. It sounded like the title for a made-for-TV movie.

I’d been watching him for years, ever since the first day I’d seen him.

As a teenager, I’d search for him or his truck everywhere. Occasionally, I’d see him at the gas station filling up. Or sometimes I’d spot him at the town grocery store or eating at Bob’s Diner. There weren’t a lot of places to go in Lark Cove, and since he didn’t go to our church and had no reason to come to my school, I’d been forced to settle for chaste glimpses every month or so.