Page 37 of Timid (Lark Cove 2)

“Um, bragging rights around the campfire? We do a new list every day to give the kids options if they don’t want to do the nature hike or go fishing.”

“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.