Timid Read online

  My diaries had the exact dates and times.

  I’d seen Jackson even less after high school. I’d moved two hours away to attend college in Missoula, and my infrequent trips home had meant six or more months between sightings. By the time I’d come back home, I’d been certain I would be returning to news that he’d gotten serious about a woman.

  No sirree. He was still the same playboy he’d been for years.

  Despite all the floozies and bimbos, I’d never stopped crushing on Jackson and I’d never stopped watching for him. It was just easier to do now that I was old enough to go into the bar.

  Tonight was different though. Tonight, it was just the two of us. Not once in nine years had we shared a space alone. And because he wasn’t putting on a show for his customers or flirting with every woman in Flathead County—well, except me—I saw something in his eyes I hadn’t seen before.

  Loneliness.

  Deep, dark, empty loneliness.

  I wanted to jump off my swing and hug it out of him.

  Had Jackson always been lonely? Had I been so mesmerized by his handsome face that I’d missed this all along?

  Outside of Thea and Hazel at the bar, I’d never seen him around town with a buddy. He’d never had a passenger in his truck or a partner in his fishing boat. The few times I’d seen him at the diner, he’d been eating alone.

  Year after year of watching, it was sufficient to say that I’d become an expert on all things Jackson Page.

  So how had I missed this loneliness he wore for all the stars to see?

  I let my feet dangle and my swing slowed. Jackson gave his a few more pumps but then stopped too. As the two of us rocked back and forth, I took a deep breath and mustered the courage to speak.

  “Are you okay, Jackson?”

  His shoulders sagged, digging into the chains. He looked over with a sad smile. “I’m having a rough night.”

  “Want to talk about it? I’m a good listener.”

  He looked out over the grass. “It’s crazy, don’t you think? That after all these years, this guy shows up and all of a sudden Charlie has a dad?”

  I didn’t know if Logan’s appearance would spell miracle or disaster for Thea and Charlie. But I did know that Jackson loved that little girl like his own. “For what it’s worth, I spent some time with Logan today. He seems genuinely nice.”

  Jackson shrugged. “We’ll see. Thea never said anything bad about him, but I don’t trust the guy. I just . . . don’t want things to change.”

  I didn’t have anything wise to say or advice to offer. So I shuffled my feet, scooting my swing a bit closer to his before reaching over to give him a reassuring touch.

  The moment my hand settled on his forearm, an electric shock zapped my fingers. What was that? I almost pulled back to examine my palm but stopped, not wanting to let him go. I’d never touched Jackson before, not even to shake his hand.

  His face whipped to mine, his eyes widening. Focusing.

  My breath caught at the intensity of his gaze, but I still didn’t remove my hand. Instead, I wobbled a smile and stroked his skin with my thumb.

  His eyes softened. “Thanks for listening.”

  “Anytime.” With my cue to let go, I picked up my feet and swung back to my groove.

  He pushed off the ground, resuming an easy swing. “What are you doing out here?”

  “Just counting shooting stars.” My eyes tipped up to the sky just in time to see another. “There.” My finger shot in the air. “Did you see it?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Aren’t they pretty?”

  “Beautiful.” But he wasn’t staring at the sky. He was looking at me.

  I blushed and dropped my arm as my heartbeat raced. Had Jackson just called me beautiful? Because it seemed like it. I didn’t have a lot of experience with men. None really. But that definitely sounded like flirting. And gosh, I liked it.

  “Sure are a lot of stars. You don’t see stars like this in the city.”

  I nodded. “I love it out here. I come out as much as I can in the summer to enjoy them. I live right over there.” I pointed past him to the back of my parents’ house. “Above the garage.” Yes, it was borderline loser to live twenty feet from my parents, but it was free and there wasn’t a huge rental market in Lark Cove.

  Jackson’s boots skidded on the wood chips as he stopped his swing and stood. With his hand extended, he nodded to my place. “Come on. I’ll walk you home.”

  I practically flew out of my seat. The minute my fingers slid against his palm, I got another one of those zaps. My breathing came in erratic pants rather than smooth ins and outs as he led me toward my house. With every step, I wished home wasn’t so close and my mom’s garden miles away, not just yards.

  I tried not to wiggle my fingers, keeping them still in his grip so he wouldn’t let me go. But I was so excited to be holding Jackson’s hand, it was nearly impossible. Every atom in my body was buzzing. Never before had electrons whirled around protons and neutrons so fast.

  Much too soon, we reached the base of the staircase that ran up the backside of the garage. I’d expected him to let go of my hand, but he didn’t. He towered over my five-five with an odd stare.

  Maybe it was the light, or lack thereof, but his eyes seemed duller than usual, the blue clouded by a slight haze, and they looked tired.

  I would stand here forever holding Jackson’s hand, but as exhaustion rolled off his wide shoulders, I reluctantly slipped my hand free. “I, um . . . thanks. Maybe we could—”

  One moment I was trying to find the words to ask him out to dinner. The next, he was kissing me.

  Jackson Page was kissing me.

  On the lips.

  His thick hands came to my cheeks. His calloused fingers slipped into the roots of my hair. And his tongue ran over my bottom lip.

  My eyes went wide. Was this happening? His eyelids were closed. His nose was brushing mine. Our mouths were touching.

  Jackson Page was kissing me. On. The. Lips!

  I couldn’t not smile. When I did, he took advantage of the part in my lips and his tongue slid inside, tickling the inside of my cheek.

  I gasped and turned to mush. Gripping his forearms so I wouldn’t fall, I relaxed completely into his kiss, letting my eyelids fall. His taste was incredible. It was minty with a hint of citrus. There was something else on his tongue too, but I wasn’t sure what.

  Hesitantly, I stroked my tongue against his. I had no idea if I was doing this right, but when Jackson moaned into my mouth, I did it again.

  From there, whatever he did, I copied. When he crested his tongue over my top lip, I did the same to his bottom. When he nipped at the corner of my mouth, I gave him one right back. And when he sucked my bottom lip between his teeth, I waited until his was free, then did the same.

  It was hot and wet and magic.

  The scruff on his jaw made the skin around my lips the exact right amount of raw. An ache unlike anything I’d felt before curled in my belly. A throb pulsed between my legs. Without thinking, I shuffled my hips closer, brushing against the hardness in his jeans.

  He hissed, sending a blast of air between us that cooled the wet skin above my lip. Then after one last lick, he pulled away.

  “Sorry,” he whispered, not letting go of my face. “I didn’t mean—”

  “Don’t,” I breathed. “Don’t be sorry.”

  Because I’d never be sorry for that kiss.

  My first kiss.

  Something I’d avoided for years because I’d been waiting for this kiss with Jackson.

  “I’d better go.” His hands dropped from my face and he planted a soft kiss on my forehead. Then he backed away three steps before turning around. Even then, he glanced over his shoulder a couple of times as he walked through my parents’ yard.

  I waved and hurried up my stairs. The minute I closed the door behind me, I went to the window beside the door since it overlooked the playground. Crouched on my floor, hidden behind a cur
tain, I watched as Jackson passed the swings and the silver slide. It didn’t take him long to step back onto the sidewalk and turn toward his house.

  When he disappeared behind the corner of the school, I sank to the floor and let a happy grin stretch my cheeks.

  After years of watching and waiting and hoping, Jackson had finally noticed me.

  Me, the shy girl who’d loved him from a distance. Tonight, he’d made one of my dreams come true.

  Sleep didn’t come easy after my kiss with Jackson. I replayed it over and over and over, touching my swollen lips until eventually I crashed around four a.m. When my alarm went off at six, I jumped out of bed with a perky smile, like I’d slept for a day.

  The smile stayed all day long. Every time I got weary, I’d think of Jackson’s kiss and get hit with a fresh burst of energy.

  By six o’clock, I was eager to get away from the camp. Not because I hadn’t had a great day with the kids and my staff, but because I wanted so badly to see Jackson again. So instead of going home, like I normally did on Tuesday evenings, I steered my Ford Escape toward the bar.

  The parking lot was full, but I squeezed into a tight space in the last row. I did a quick check in my visor mirror, pulling my hair into a topknot and smearing on some lip gloss. Then I popped a piece of cinnamon gum. I doubted Jackson would kiss me while working, but he might and I wanted to be prepared.

  I walked into the bar with a confidence I hadn’t felt in years, maybe ever. I strolled right up to the bar, sliding into a rickety old stool next to Wayne and Ronny, two locals who came down to the bar most nights. Normally, I picked a table in the middle of the room or a booth in the corner, somewhere I wasn’t conspicuous.

  But not tonight.

  Tonight, I was going to be front and center.

  “Hi, guys.”

  “Hey, Willa.” Wayne patted my shoulder. “How are you today?”

  “I’m great. How are you?”

  “Can’t complain.”

  I loved that Wayne always had a smile. I’d known him my entire life and couldn’t remember a time when he wasn’t in a good mood. Even during his divorce. He was in his late fifties, like my dad, and worked at the school doing maintenance. He’d always walk the halls whistling a cheery tune.

  “Um, is Jackson here tonight?” I asked, my eyes scanning the bar.

  Wayne didn’t answer because at that moment, Jackson came out of the back carrying a pizza pan. He delivered it to one of the tables, then came back around the bar.

  The minute he made eye contact, my heart jumped into my throat. “Hey,” I breathed as the smile on my face got impossibly wider.

  Jackson grinned. “Hey, Willow. What can I get for you?”

  My smile faltered. Willow? I stared at him, hoping he’d start laughing at his not-so-funny joke, but he just stood there, waiting to take my drink order.

  “It’s Willa. With an a,” I snapped. “Will-a.”

  He winced. “Sorry. I suck at names. Did you want a drink?”

  I suck at names. That’s how he was going to play this? He was going to pretend that last night hadn’t happened? Was kissing me really so bad that he’d resort to childish games?

  “I’ll get your drink, Willa,” Wayne offered. “How about a Bud Light?”

  I nodded, unable to speak.

  “Coming up.” Jackson whipped a pint glass from beneath the bar and took it to the tap.

  “It’s still weird to me that you’re old enough to drink.” Wayne chuckled. “I remember you coming into the school every summer when you were just a little thing, helping your daddy get his classroom all ready for the school year.”

  I faked a smile for Wayne as Jackson set down my beer.

  He turned and grabbed a bottle of aspirin from behind the cash register, opening the cap and popping a couple of pills into his mouth.

  “Not feeling good?” Ronny asked.

  Jackson shook his head. “I haven’t had a bitch of a hangover like this in years. The damn thing has lasted all day. Remind me never to do tequila shots, then smoke a joint with the tourists again. I’m a fucking dumbass.”

  Ronny and Wayne both laughed.

  I did not.

  Tequila and weed. That was the taste I couldn’t pinpoint last night. That was the reason for the haze in his eyes. He’d been drunk and high during my first kiss.

  “Did you stay out late?” Ronny asked Jackson.

  He shrugged. “Not really. I closed up around midnight after the tourists left the bar. Walked home and passed out.”

  I stared at his profile, waiting for his eyes to at least flicker my way. He was forgetting a stop on his stroll home. Was that intentional? Did he not want Wayne and Ronny to know he’d even talked to me? Or had he forgotten me completely in his inebriated state?

  “You just went home and fell asleep?” I asked.

  He glanced over. “Pretty much. Had some crazy dreams though.”

  I narrowed my gaze, assessing his expression. He wasn’t lying. He wasn’t pretending. He wasn’t omitting pieces of his story.

  He really had forgotten.

  He’d forgotten the best night of my life. The best first kiss in the history of first kisses.

  He’d forgotten me.

  The pain nearly knocked me off my stool. Jackson continued to chat with Wayne and Ronny while I stared unblinking at my beer glass. The bubbles collected on the rim, then burst.

  Like my heart.

  Enough, Willa. Enough.

  My friends had told me for years to move on, to forget my schoolgirl crush on Jackson and go after a man who actually knew I existed.

  But I’d nurtured and coddled the fantasy for nine years.

  I’d finally had enough. This was the kick in the rear I’d needed to let him go. In a way, I was glad this had all happened.

  Yep, glad. Super glad.

  G-L-A-D, glad.

  He was just a silly dream.

  And it was time to chase a new one.

  As I walked past the school, I glanced across the playground to the dark row of houses on the opposite side. My eyes immediately landed on the staircase behind one of the garages, and a wave of déjà vu hit hard.

  Why were those stairs so familiar? I’d never been to that house before.

  I shrugged the feeling away. They were probably familiar just because I’d walked down this street three hundred times on my way to work at the bar. I lived two blocks up in the same neighborhood—though my place wasn’t nearly as nice as the homes on this road.

  I kept walking but couldn’t help a second glance at the staircase.

  It had been over two weeks since the night I’d had five too many tequila shots and smoked a joint with a couple of tourists who’d stopped at the bar. And in those two weeks, I couldn’t get this dream out of my head.

  There was a girl. A beautiful girl.

  And that staircase.

  Fucking weed. There was a reason I rarely smoked.

  Something about the mixture of marijuana and tequila did strange things to my mind. I didn’t get the typical munchies or surfer-dude vibes. Things got hazy, nothing stayed in focus, and my memory took a hit.

  Never again, Jackson. Never. Again.

  I blamed this on Logan fucking Kendrick. The only reason I’d gotten drunk and smoked that joint was because he’d shown up in Lark Cove.

  Why couldn’t he have just stayed a stranger? Logan would be in Charlie’s life, our lives, for good. Not that I didn’t want Charlie to have a father—I wanted whatever was best for her—but change sucked and Logan was bringing a truckload of it to my simple life.

  So the night he’d shown up in town, I hadn’t handled it well. I’d poured a shot to take the edge off, followed by two more. When those tourists had come in, the bottle hadn’t lasted long. And when one of the guys had passed me a joint, I hadn’t thought twice before taking a hit.

  The rest was a blur.

  I remembered fuzzy pieces from that night. I remembered locking up the bar and t
aking a piss outside the back door by the Dumpster. I remembered walking past the playground. And I remembered the dream I had that night.

  It was about a girl floating through the air with long, wavy hair the color of spun gold. Then there were flashes of those stairs.

  After one last look over my shoulder at the staircase, I turned the corner of the block and headed down First Street toward the highway.

  Toward my sanctuary, the Lark Cove Bar.

  I’d moved to Lark Cove about nine years ago from New York City. The moment I’d driven through the small, lakeside town, a calm had settled over my soul. Moving here had been the best decision I’d ever made.

  There were no blaring horns from taxis and angry drivers. We didn’t have bums sleeping on our street corners. There were no smelly subway tunnels or towering skyscrapers. The only things on the horizon here were mountaintops.

  It had only taken a week for me to adjust to the still nights, no traffic to lull me to sleep.

  Lark Cove suited me. There were a couple of churches and a motel. A single school for all grades. The town only had one diner, but I didn’t need a slew of restaurants to choose from. Most meals I ate at home or at the bar. If I had the extra cash, I drove the thirty minutes up to Kalispell for something different.

  Though I preferred to leave Lark Cove only when absolutely necessary. With a small grocery store and a gas station, I could keep my fridge stocked with the essentials and fishing supplies.

  I didn’t need stores or shopping malls when I had the lake. When I was on my fishing boat, floating on the open water with a cup of worms in the cooler and my rod in a pole holder, I didn’t need much else.

  Just the lake and my bar.

  Lark Cove was one of many small towns located along the highway that ran around Flathead Lake. The bar’s neon sign lured a lot of tourists off the highway as they passed through. Though, we served a loyal local crowd too.

  Other than the diner, we were the only establishment in Lark Cove that served food. Thea had come up with the idea to do brick-oven pizzas a while back and they’d been a huge hit. Add to that our cold beer and stiff drinks, and the bar was rarely empty these days.