Page 153 of Timid (Lark Cove 2)

“Can I peek?”

“No way.” He shook his head as he walked through the living room.

I took one last look at the painting before following. “So why did you ask Thea to do that painting?”

“I wanted one. She was bitching about needing a new art project one night at the bar so I told her to paint me a picture of you.”

“Why?”

He looked over his shoulder and shot me a why do you think look.

“Does it have to be on the mantel?” It was a beautiful piece, but on the mantel, it was the focal point of the living room. I didn’t like to be so front and center.

“Yes.”

“How about the hallway? Or our bedroom?”

“No.”

“Jackson, be reasonable. It looks like you’ve built a shrine up there for me.”

He ignored me, walking to the front door and setting down the presents on the little table I’d dragged him through five antique stores to find.

We’d spent the last year remodeling our house. I moved out of my tiny apartment above my parents’ garage right after Jackson proposed. We saved up for a year and then hired a contractor to come in and remodel. There was a month where the place wasn’t livable, so Jackson and I had stayed over the garage, for old times’ sake, while Ryder camped out with Hazel.

But when the contractor finally finished the bedrooms and kitchen so we could all move back in, it was perfect.

Everything was updated and bright. We’d gotten new windows and floors. I’d even gotten a brand-new kitchen to make the guys breakfast every morning.

For the most part, Jackson and Ryder didn’t care at all about the things I’d done to decorate. Ryder had done his own room, but the rest of the house had been mine.

But slowly, I was losing control over the mantel.

The first thing Jackson insisted on putting up there was our wedding picture. Since it was an amazing picture from an amazing day, I didn’t argue.

The summer after Jackson proposed, we got married in the same church in Kalispell where my parents had gotten married. Then we drove back to Lark Cove and had a small reception at Hazel’s lakeside cottage.

The picture on the mantel was of me and Jackson dancing under the twinkle lights in the tent we’d rented. My dress had a simple silhouette, fitted from the bodice through my hips. It was white with a lace overlay that went up to my neck and ended in delicate cap sleeves. My hair was curled and hanging loose down my back.

I loved that picture, especially seeing Jackson all dressed up in a tux. I would have put it on the mantel had he asked for it or not.

But over the last year, I kept coming home to find new additions up there. One by one, he’d built this Willa shrine. One framed picture was of me on the boat last summer, fishing. One was of me at camp, standing under the

tall trees. The latest was one he’d taken of me barefoot in the kitchen, making french toast.

And now this painting.

It was too much.

“Please can we move it to the hallway?”

“No,” he declared and pulled on his boots.

“Why?” I asked, getting frustrated.

He sighed and stood tall, stepping close to rest his hands on my shoulders. “Did I ever tell you why I came to your apartment above the garage that first night? That night you were all pissed off at me and I didn’t know why?”

I thought back over the years, remembering that night. “No, I guess you didn’t.”