Say You Love Me (Pine Valley Book 3) Read online

  Tuesday or Monday, whichever night they had dinner, seemed too long to wait.

  But Clara didn’t see him until Wednesday. Monday, he texted and proposed Tuesday again. Then Tuesday he texted an apology and said he’d call her later that night. Clara fell asleep before he called, and on Wednesday morning she found that he’d called about 11:30 p.m. He hadn’t left a message, but he’d sent a text that said: Wednesday, promise.

  She hadn’t expected him to appear at her office, though. Jeff was out showing houses to a client, and 4:00 p.m. was proving to be the dead hour as usual. She just happened to be gazing out the window, possibly thinking of Dawson, and if he’d actually follow through, when she saw his red truck pull up in front of the office and come to a stop.

  She smoothed her hair and wondered if her makeup was mostly worn off. The day was warm, so she’d worn a linen blouse, yellow skirt, and heeled sandals. She wouldn’t feel so short next to Dawson. She rose from her desk as he opened the front door and came into the office.

  He wore a dark-gray suit, and she knew from their previous texts that he’d had court appearances that day.

  “Hi,” Dawson said, sounding like he was out of breath.

  “If you’re looking for Jeff, he’s not here,” Clara teased, coming around the desk.

  Dawson’s gaze moved over her as he walked toward her.

  “How did court go today?” she asked.

  But instead of answering, he stepped closer and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a hug.

  “Oh.” This she hadn’t expected. And she wondered if he was okay. She hugged him back, mostly on instinct, but had to admit that it felt great. He felt great. Not that she’d doubted, but her imaginings hadn’t led her astray. And she probably shouldn’t let herself breathe in his spicy scent. She knew it would be hard to let him go.

  “Sorry about the PDA,” he said against her ear, but he didn’t let her go. “I just missed you.”

  Clara tried to ignore the missed-you comment; she’d missed him too, which told her she was entering the danger zone. “Good thing no one’s in the office, then.”

  Dawson drew away and released her. “It’s okay for friends to hug, right?”

  He was smiling, and this made her feel better. He wasn’t hugging her because something terrible had happened and he was looking for comfort. He was hugging her because he missed her.

  She nodded and rested a hand on the desk next to her, looking for a little more stability. Dawson’s arms around her had given her a heady feeling.

  “So, I called your boss,” Dawson continued. “And I asked him if I could steal you early from work.”

  Clara stared at him. “You called Jeff?”

  “Yeah.” He had the decency to look a little sheepish. “I thought that, you know, we could get a head start on our evening if you could get out of the office sooner.”

  She opened her mouth, then shut it. Dawson could be both sweet and infuriating at the same time.

  “Was . . . that okay?”

  She placed a hand on her hip. “Don’t go over my head next time.”

  His mouth twitched.

  “I mean it.” She tried to sound firm, but she was failing at it.

  He raised both of his hands. “I promise I won’t go over your head again. I sort of had a plan in mind, and I had to call Jeff about something else anyway.”

  Clara exhaled. “What plan?”

  “There’s a great seafood place I want to take you to, but it’s about an hour drive.”

  Dawson looked so earnest, and so hopeful, that Clara couldn’t help but smile. “You can spare that much time away from work?” she asked.

  “I know, it’s a miracle,” he said. “But I was starting to go crazy without seeing you for so long.”

  Clara raised her brows.

  “Too much truth?” he asked, moving closer again.

  He grasped her hand, and Clara felt like her heart was about to leap out of her chest. “Um,” she said, placing her other hand on his chest to stop him from leaning closer. Because if she wasn’t careful, she might just allow him to keep leaning until they were kissing. He was warm, solid, and she shouldn’t be touching him again, especially so soon after his hug. “I’ll grab my purse. You can bring me back to my car later.” She stepped away, pulling away from his hand, and his touch, and his scent.

  She had to clear her head, which might be difficult if they were going to be together for the next few hours. She felt Dawson’s gaze on her as she walked around the desk and picked up her purse. Then she powered down the office computer and switched on the answering service.

  Straightening, she said, “Ready?” There was no time to check her appearance or freshen up.

  “Great,” he said, his mouth lifting into a half smile. They walked out of the front entrance, and Clara flipped off the lights and locked the door.

  Dawson opened the passenger door for her, and she climbed into the truck. It was warm inside from the sun, and she was starting to feel at home in his truck.

  He jumped in, started the truck, then pulled out his phone. “I told Mandy I’d be out of reach the rest of the day.” He turned the phone off and set it on top of the console.

  “Can you do that?” Clara asked. “I mean, the world might end.”

  “Well, if it does, we can fight zombies together.”

  Clara smirked. “Sounds good.” Just then her phone buzzed, and she looked down at it. “What did you tell Jeff?”

  Dawson glanced over, his brow arched. “Why?”

  “I think you know why,” she said, turning her phone toward him. “Jeff just texted me: Have a nice time, but don’t let Dawson boss you around. Make him treat you right.”

  “I didn’t tell him much.”

  Clara narrowed her eyes.

  “Okay, I might have said that your ex-boyfriend was a jerk,” he said in a slow voice, “and that he had a bunch of rules.”

  “I never said that.”

  “Uh, you sort of did.”

  Clara exhaled. She wrote Jeff back: Don’t worry. And thanks.

  She put her phone into her purse and said, “All right. Max sort of did have rules, but doesn’t everyone? At least preferences. I was willing to do things his way, I guess.”

  Dawson slowed for a traffic light. “I’m surprised at that. I mean, you barely give me an inch.”

  “Yeah, well, I learned my lesson,” Clara said. “When I found out that Max had been cheating on me almost our whole relationship, I decided that the next guy I dated wouldn’t be making all the decisions.”

  “That’s how it should be anyway,” he said. “Wait. Am I the next guy you’re dating?”

  Clara cracked a smile. “That’s not what I said.”

  “You also didn’t tell me what Max’s rules were.” He raised his brows at her, then looked back at the road and merged onto the highway.

  “He told me he hated PDA, but I wonder if that was just because he was in love with another woman and didn’t want someone she knew to see us,” Clara said in a thoughtful tone. “He never wanted to hang out two nights in a row . . . which should have been another clue. We’d hang out at my house, and I’d cook dinner. Never going to his apartment should have been another clue. I was really dense, wasn’t I?”

  “Wait—you cook?” Dawson asked.

  “You would pick up on that,” she said with a laugh. “I can make the basics, nothing fancy.”

  “I’m sure it’s better than my bachelor fare of heated soup and frozen dinners.”

  “You look more like a guy who drinks protein shakes,” Clara said.

  “Oh, I’m a whiz with the blender, but I don’t consider that cooking.” He looked over at her. “Really, what kinds of things do you cook?”

  Clara shook her head. “Why are you so interested?”

  He shrugged. “My mom didn’t cook, so about the only homemade food I had growing up was pancakes on the weekends that my dad fixed.”

  “Poor kid,” Clara said.
“Your mom didn’t bake you cookies after school?”

  “Do you bake cookies?” Dawson was quick to ask.

  “Not when there’s just one of me.”

  Dawson exhaled. “At least you didn’t say maybe.”

  Clara grinned. “I’m just going to keep you in suspense, and then maybe I’ll cook for you one day and surprise you.”

  “I think that’s the best thing I’ve heard in my entire life.”

  Dawson wondered how soon was too soon to kiss Clara. Would tonight be pushing it? Would she be annoyed? Would she call off their “friendship”? Because he was thinking of her a lot more deeply than he ever had any friend.

  She seemed to be enjoying the restaurant, so he was glad he’d suggested it. He’d only been a little antsy about not having his phone on, but it wasn’t half as bad as he’d thought it would be. In fact, it was rather freeing. One of the items on the list of failures Romy had written up was that he never turned his phone off.

  Yes, her list had hurt, but she had also been right about several things. He was a slave to his phone, and he’d always come up with every justification possible. And even though he knew he had to make changes, and was working on several things, he also knew that if he’d made these changes during his marriage, it still wouldn’t have helped. Romy had completely distanced herself from him and disengaged. If she’d wanted him to change, hoped that he would change for her, then she would have suggested counseling instead of filing for divorce.

  No, she hadn’t wanted him—as his flawed self or as his changed self.

  Deep down, he knew that if he were to have a successful relationship with another woman, he’d have to swallow his pride and start making those changes. It wasn’t realistic for him to turn off his phone every night, but he could find times to do it. Such as this date with Clara.

  “Dessert?” he asked Clara.

  She shook her head with a groan. They’d shared the seafood platter, and in addition to the warm, crusty bread the restaurant was famous for. Dawson was full too. “We could split something.”

  “I’m going to have to take up running if I keep this up,” Clara said. “Yoga won’t combat all of the calories I ate tonight.”

  “You shouldn’t worry,” Dawson said. It bothered him when women put themselves down for their weight, but at least Clara ate like a normal person. Still . . . “You’re pretty much perfect.”

  “Pretty much?” Clara said. “That means there’s still something you think I can work on?”

  The way she analyzed every bit of their conversation was one thing Dawson liked about her. One of many things. She was never boring to talk to. “Everyone has flaws,” he said.

  Her brows shot up, and he laughed.

  “Okay, Mr. Harris,” she said. “What’s one of my flaws? And you’d better tell the truth.”

  Truth. Another item on his list of failures. Romy had said he wasn’t truthful after her miscarriage because he’d told her he would have married her even if she hadn’t been pregnant. He just wouldn’t have married her so soon. Unless more time together ended up driving them apart.

  Right now, Clara was waiting for his answer. “You won’t order dessert with me,” he said. “That’s a flaw.”

  “It would only be a flaw if I never ordered dessert, but I happen to be full, so it’s not a flaw.” She shrugged. “It’s a wise choice for tonight.”

  The waiter came over, ready to take their dessert order. Dawson waited for Clara to turn down the waiter, but instead, she said, “We’ll split the raspberry cheesecake. Can you bring two forks?” Her blue eyes sparkled at Dawson.

  “One flaw erased,” she said when the waiter left. “Any other flaws you want to hit me with?”

  “I don’t think you’re ready to hear about any more,” Dawson said. “They’re pretty intense.”

  “I can take it,” she said, her mouth turning up at the corners, her gaze expectant.

  So Dawson took the plunge. “You haven’t kissed me yet.”

  Clara laughed, and her cheeks turned pink. “I should have expected that. Also, I don’t think that’s a flaw. It’s a wise decision.”

  “That’s debatable.”

  “No, it’s not,” Clara said, still smiling.

  This only gave Dawson hope, and he hoped he wasn’t completely misreading Clara. Even though she held back a lot, he was pretty sure she was as interested in him as he was in her.

  The waiter brought the cheesecake, and Clara dutifully ate a couple of bites, but then turned the remainder of the dessert over to him.

  He finished the cheesecake off and then insisted on paying the bill.

  “You drove here, using your gasoline,” Clara protested.

  “That’s okay,” he said. “You can pay next time, and I’ll order my own dessert.”

  Clara started to thaw. “All right, but I’m not going to let you forget.”

  Dawson rose from the table and extended his hand toward Clara. “How could I forget—you just said you’d go out with me again.”

  She put her hand in his, and he loved the way their fingers fit together. And she didn’t pull her hand away once she stood, so he kept a hold of it as they walked out of the restaurant.

  Night had fallen, and the warm spring air had grown cool.

  When Clara shivered, he said, “Cold?”

  “A little,” she said.

  He was only being a gentleman when he draped his arm around her shoulders.

  “You’re pushing it, Mr. Harris,” she said, but there was a softness in her voice.

  Squeezing her shoulder, he said, “Just let me know when you want to correct your flaw of not kissing me.”

  They slowed as they reached the passenger side of the truck, and Clara turned to look up at him.

  Dawson’s pulse jumped—maybe she would kiss him.

  “You know, Mr. Harris, you’re a charming guy,” she said, reaching up and placing her hand over his heart. “But remember, we’re just friends.”

  Then, she lifted up on her toes and kissed his cheek.

  He wanted to pull her against him, press his mouth against hers and claim a real kiss. But she’d already drawn away and was waiting for him to open the door, a mischievous smile on her face.

  “I know we’re friends,” he said. “But that was not the kind of kiss I was talking about.”

  She folded her arms and tilted her head, waiting for him to open the door. He sighed and unlocked the door. After she climbed in, he shut the door and walked around the front of the truck to the other side. He was both hopeful and impatient at the same time, and he wasn’t sure how to explain that mixture of feelings.

  He’d just spent the first evening he could remember in a long time without thinking about his work to-do list. He’d been so focused on Clara that he’d almost forgotten all the things he had to get done before another court date tomorrow. Spending these few hours with Clara would mean that he might be pulling an all-nighter. But at this point he didn’t care. It would be worth it.

  When he climbed in and started the truck, he said, “So, tell me about all this cooking you and your grandma used to do.”

  Clara laughed. “You’re really hung up on that, aren’t you?”

  Dawson grinned. “I guess I am. I’m not even hungry, but I can’t help but wonder what you might cook for me.”

  She shook her head. “You act as if you’ve never had a woman cook for you. I mean, didn’t your wife cook?” She covered her mouth. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to imply—”

  “It’s okay,” he said as he pulled onto the highway heading back to Pine Valley. “Romy didn’t cook; she was like my mom there. So it never really bothered me. I’d make dinner a couple of nights a week—but it was really just breakfast food. Omelets, pancakes, waffles. Unless we had a double date with another couple, or ate someplace with my parents, we were pretty much on our own, since our schedules didn’t match up.”

  “Where did she work?” Clara asked.

  “She worked as a de
ntal hygienist for a couple of years. Then she went part time and started working at a gym too,” he said. “It was probably the only fight we ever had . . . if you don’t count serving me divorce papers.”

  “Sorry,” she said.

  Dawson shrugged. “It feels like a long time ago now. If we could ever spend time together, it would be weekends. But she was at the gym during the times that I was home. I guess I should have seen that as a major red flag. She told me she was trying to pay off my law school loans faster, but during the divorce proceedings, I found that she’d never paid anything extra toward the school loans. I was paying the minimum, of course. And it wasn’t like I expected her to pay for my loans—but that had been her justification to work at the gym on weekends.”

  “When did you see each other?” Clara asked, sounding genuinely curious.

  “Mornings,” Dawson said. “At least, I saw her sleeping in our second bedroom before I left for work in the mornings.” He paused. He hadn’t meant to get that personal.

  Clara was quiet for a moment.

  “She said I snored,” he said at last. “I believed her, completely ignoring the fact that we had no sex life at that point anyway.” He’d already confessed that his wife slept in their guest room, so why not more? “But last year, I went to a legal convention, and I ended up sharing a room with another guy in my firm. I warned him that I snored, and I’d help pay for an extra room if he needed it. But, over the course of three nights, he said he never heard me snore.”

  Clara exhaled. “First, there are lots of remedies for snoring, and second, I’m sorry Romy wasn’t honest with you.”

  He felt her gaze on him, and the compassion in her voice made him feel that maybe he hadn’t been such a big jerk in his marriage after all.

  Clara rested her hand over his. “Even if there were problems in your marriage, if your wife wouldn’t talk to you about them, then how could you fix anything?”

  Dawson turned his hand palm up, linked their fingers. Just holding Clara’s hand made his heart race, especially since she’d initiated the contact.

  “She didn’t want to fix anything,” he said. “And I was so caught up in my new job that I ignored the signs.”