Page 61 of Timid (Lark Cove 2)

“If she’s dead to you, then she’s dead to me. That’s it.”

I eyed her profile, amazed that she was on my page. My tires thudded against the rumble strip as we drifted toward the shoulder.

“Watch the road, Jackson,” she said. “I’m starving, and crashing into a tree would put a dent in our dinner plans.”

Grinning, I turned my eyes back to the highway. “Well, we can’t have that, Willow.”

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She flinched, her gasp much louder this time. With her mouth hanging open, Willa turned and gaped at my profile.

I chuckled. “What? Too soon to joke about the name thing?”

Her mouth snapped closed and she pursed her lips. The corners didn’t want to stay flat, even though she tried.

“Jerkface.” She shoved her elbow into my ribs, then giggled.

With that, the seriousness of our conversation disappeared. Willa stayed tucked into my side as we drove down the road to dinner, talking about everything light and airy. By the time we’d both scarfed down two huge ribeyes and made it back to Lark Cove, I knew one thing: I’d never have a better date in my life.

And when the time came, it was going to be damn hard to walk away from this woman.

Be bold.

That was my new motto.

Or at least it had been my motto for the last two minutes.

Jackson and I had arguably the best date of all time. He took me to a nice restaurant in Kalispell, a steakhouse I’d only been to once before with my parents. When I ordered the largest ribeye with sautéed mushrooms, a loaded baked potato and a side salad, Jackson didn’t even blink. He just grinned at the waitress and ordered the same.

Then we laughed. We talked—maybe more than I’d ever talked during a meal. Jackson wanted to know all about growing up in Lark Cove and my experiences in college. I wanted to know about funny stories from the bar. Hardly a moment went by where one of us wasn’t telling the other a story.

I may have watched Jackson from a distance for years, but tonight, I’d really gotten to know him. And everything I’d learned made me crave more.

“I had fun tonight,” he said as he escorted me up my staircase.

“I had fun too.” At the top step, I glanced over my shoulder. Be bold. “Would you like to come in?”

“Sure.”

I smiled, excitement bubbling in my belly as I unlocked the door. “Shoot.” I turned abruptly just inside the door. “My car is still at the camp.”

Jackson put his hands on my shoulders and spun me back around, urging me inside. “I’ll come get you in the morning and take you to work.”

Or you can just sleep here.

If I was really being bold, I would have said that out loud, but I guess I needed more practice. Still, the thought of Jackson in my apartment again sent a rush of nervous energy to my insides.

Was tonight the night I’d go all the way?

The thought of losing my virginity didn’t scare me—much. My fingers fumbled with the clasp on my pink clutch as we entered my loft. What would it feel like? Would it hurt? Would Jackson like it?

I glanced up at Jackson as I led him toward the couch. I really want him to like it.

More than anything else, I was nervous I wouldn’t be good at sex for Jackson. It was guaranteed I’d be awkward, there was no escaping the first-time jitters. But I was more anxious about Jackson’s reaction than I was for myself.

He’d take care of me. I just wanted to take care of him too.

My mouth was full of cotton; anxiety had parched me dry. So instead of going to the couch with Jackson, I turned for the kitchen. “Do you want something to drink?”