Say You Love Me

by Heather B. Moore

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright © 2018 by Mirror Press, LLC

  Dear Reader,

  Pine Valley Series

  Say You Love Me

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Dear Reader,

  Click on the covers to visit Heather’s Amazon Author Page:

  About Heather B. Moore

  Clara & Dawson

  A Pine Valley Novel

  Copyright © 2018 by Mirror Press, LLC

  E-book edition

  All rights reserved

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form whatsoever without prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief passages embodied in critical reviews and articles. This is a work of fiction. The characters, names, incidents, places, and dialogue are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real.

  Interior design by Heather Justesen

  Edited by Cassidy Wadsworth Skousen and Lisa Shepherd

  Cover design by Rachael Anderson

  Cover image credit: Deposit Photos #31588957

  Published by Mirror Press, LLC

  Dear Reader,

  To receive my next book for FREE, sign up for my newsletter here. Enter your email, and you’ll receive a confirmation email with a download link to my next book. Free! Your email will not be shared, and you may unsubscribe at any time. I always appreciate reviews, but there is no obligation.

  Thank you!

  Heather

  Worth the Risk

  Where I Belong

  Say You Love Me

  Clara Benson is not looking for a relationship, especially not after losing her teaching position, followed by a disastrous breakup with her fiancé, and the sudden death of the grandma who raised her. In fact, Clara picks up and moves to escape her mess of memories. She hopes Pine Valley will be the perfect place to heal from heartache.

  When she meets her boss’s lawyer, Dawson Harris, Clara can’t deny her attraction. Yet she’s determined to choose herself, and her healing, over a guy who might be charming, attractive, and oh, so appealing. Easy, right? But when Dawson becomes the one person who can straighten out her mess, she realizes that finding herself doesn’t have to mean losing Dawson.

  “Now . . . let’s move into downward dog,” the yoga instructor said, and Clara Benson stretched into position.

  Clara had been taking the yoga class at the Pine Valley Recreation Center for three months now, yet she was not any more flexible than she had been when she’d started. But she could feel her core strength returning, and over all, her stress was becoming manageable. The dim lighting of the yoga room, the soft music, and the calm voice of the instructor probably had a lot to do with the stress relief as well. Five minutes into the class, and Clara could feel the weight on her shoulders slide off her like a warm shower. She would never admit to her boss, Jeff Finch, how hard it had been running the office mostly on her own while he dealt with a lawsuit and some personal problems.

  Jeff Finch was an up-and-coming real estate agent in Pine Valley, and Clara was more than grateful he’d hired her six months ago even though her only qualification was being willing to try something new.

  Pine Valley had been a new start for Clara. Seven months ago, her life had been in shambles. A failed engagement, her grandma’s death, and losing her job teaching kindergarten at a charter school because the school had been under investigation—and all of it happening in the same week. After her grandmother’s funeral, Clara had packed her things, turned the house over to a local realtor, and spoken the words into her phone: “I need to get away.”

  Pine Valley had popped up as a suggestion.

  Clara had opened it in her Maps app and started driving. After three hours of driving the California freeways, she had turned into the community of Pine Valley. Two days later, she’d been hired by Jeff Finch, town realtor.

  Even though Clara missed a lot of things about home, she knew she could never return. The memories of the grandma who raised her were too painful, not to mention the colossal breakup with Max. And although Clara was a certified elementary school teacher, she wasn’t up to going back to the classroom and putting a smile on her face every day in front of young children. They saw through fake instantly.

  But sitting behind a desk and talking on the phone with realtor clients? Clara could fake a cheerful tone all day.

  Here, in the yoga room, she didn’t have to put on a happy face in the dim room. She could close her eyes, listen to her body, focus on breathing, and empty her mind of her past.

  Here . . . she could recreate a new Clara. A Clara who could rebuild her life and start over.

  The soft click of the door was audible over the low music, but Clara didn’t open her eyes. Someone had come late to class. Unusual, because Leslie, their instructor, was adamant that no one come in late. If you were late, you had to wait until the next session since Leslie didn’t want the ambiance disturbed.

  Although Clara’s eyes were closed, she felt the presence of whomever had entered, felt the hesitation and possible confusion. The woman must be looking for a spot. There was room right behind Clara, but if the woman was new, it would be harder to follow Leslie’s lead from the back of the room.

  And then Clara heard the other women around her shifting their mats. She opened her eyes to see that the woman to her right had broken her pose to move her mat closer to Clara to make room for the new arrival.

  Instantly Clara was annoyed. Although she closed her eyes during most of her poses, she didn’t want to be too close to anyone else. She didn’t want to hear someone else breathing or moving. It cut into her concentration.

  Then, Clara caught sight of the new arrival—a man—who was setting a mat on the floor kitty corner to her.

  Even in the dim light, she could see that the man looked like he worked out plenty. He wore gym shorts, and his sculpted form showed through his fitted T-shirt.

  He moved easily into the next yoga position Leslie called out. In fact, he was absolutely lithe, which only made Clara self-conscious about her own awkwardness.

  Two men were regulars in the class that was otherwise made up of women. But their average builds and average looks had never drawn the attention this newcomer did. All of the women kept glancing over at him, trying to be discreet in their curiosity. The new arrival had caught everyone’s attention.

  Including Clara’s.

  She hid a sigh of frustration. The last thing she needed in her yoga class—her one place of solace—was someone distracting her.

  If Leslie had been bothered by the interruption, she hadn’t shown it. In fact, now that Clara focused on the instructor, it seemed that Leslie was smiling just a little.

  And, there it was.

  Leslie was looking at the new arrival with a half-smile on her face. She knew him! Maybe he was her boyfriend?

  That would explain it, although Clara hated that Leslie would bend her rules for even a boyfriend. And having him in this class might mean that Leslie, too, would now be distracted . . . not to mention the other women, who were suddenly doing deeper
stretches and longer poses than Clara had ever seen them do before. And she should know, since she always set up at the back of the room. She didn’t like the feeling of someone observing her poses. It helped with her concentration to think that no one watched her movements.

  Clara knew she needed to clear her mind, to not worry about who may or may not be in the class, to just focus on her workout. If she didn’t, the tension would return, and she’d have another lousy night again. Insomnia had been her close friend the last few weeks. Ever since February 1, the date of her grandma’s birthday. The woman would have been seventy-four. Young, really. But the stroke had paralyzed her so severely that a second stroke a couple days later had been a blessing.

  As much as Clara hated to think her grandma’s death had been a blessing, she knew the spunky Phoebe Benson would have never been happy living as a paralytic.

  The music shifted, and Leslie called out the next position, which meant that now Clara needed to turn in the direction of the new class member. She turned before he did and was surprised when she caught him looking at her.

  She quickly looked away, but he didn’t. Out of her peripheral vision, she felt him watching her, and Clara began to heat up. She never really perspired in yoga class. Tonight would be an exception.

  She suddenly decided she would go to the later session on Fridays. She never had any plans anyway, and McKenna taught the later class. Clara wouldn’t have to deal with this new man in class whom Leslie seemed to know.

  Finally he looked away, which only meant Clara caught herself stealing glances in his direction. How was he so good at yoga? She’d never seen him in class before, and she’d come religiously for three months, four to five sessions a week.

  Clara forced herself to not look in the man’s direction again and kept her eyes closed as much as possible. But as fate would have it, his close proximity meant she was pretty much aware of all of his movements anyway.

  “And that’s it for today,” Leslie said in a soft, low voice. “The lights will stay dimmed for another few minutes so you slowly release from your meditation. See you next time, everyone.”

  Clara opened her eyes as Leslie stood and took off her headset. The instructor then walked through the maze of mats toward the man next to Clara.

  Leslie leaned down and talked to the man for a minute in hushed tones. Whatever was being said, it was flirty. Leslie was positively beaming—even in the dimness of the room, that was clear.

  The man’s hushed tones were deep and resonated through Clara, even though she couldn’t distinguish what he was saying. Then Leslie straightened and went back to the front of the room. She said goodbye to the class members as they passed her to exit.

  Clara decided she’d be the last one to leave the room. It would give her a few minutes by herself to re-center her thoughts. The next class would be in thirty minutes, and maybe she’d even stay for it. The double session might be what she needed tonight—she should sleep pretty well if she was completely exhausted.

  But no, apparently super-yoga-man was staying as well. Leslie was talking to one of the final women in the room when Clara determined to leave after all. There was no way she was staying if her neighbor was staying as well. She rose to her feet and bent to roll up her mat, pointedly not looking over at the newcomer.

  “Clara?”

  She froze. Then, slowly, she raised her gaze to see the man looking right at her. Even though it was dim, she’d certainly recognize him if they knew each other. Which they didn’t.

  “Don’t you work for Jeff Finch?”

  Clara straightened, still studying the man’s features. Surely she’d remember a man who looked like he could be a model and a professional athlete all in the same package.

  He moved to his feet in one fluid motion. When he stood, he was well over a foot taller than Clara, although her 5’1” frame had never given her much of a height advantage over anyone.

  Just then Leslie brightened the lights, throwing the room into stark visibility, and Clara got a good look at the man. His dark-brown eyes were intense, to say the least, and his hair was a dark blond—cut short, but just long enough to give him a bit of a playboy look.

  “Dawson Harris,” he said, extending his hand.

  Clara’s mouth opened; then she closed it. Dawson Harris. Jeff’s lawyer? They’d talked on the phone a few times, and she’d always enjoyed their short conversations. If she’d known he looked like this, she might have been more reserved. He could easily be a poster boy for a country club, and perhaps he did spend a lot of time there with clients. His chiseled looks probably got him plenty of attention from women. Well, he knew her as bubbly, outgoing Clara, so that’s who she’d be.

  “Oh, hi, Mr. Harris,” Clara said, putting on a broad smile, even though she was wearing workout clothes and her dark red hair was in a sweaty ponytail. Yet, now that the lights were on, she noticed his shirt had sweat stains too—maybe he’d been lifting weights or something before class. “Small world. I didn’t know you were in this class.”

  “Small world, indeed,” he said, his eyes crinkling at the corners with his smile. “I thought it was you—but since I’ve only seen your picture on the real estate website, I wasn’t completely sure.”

  Clara laughed. Which mortified her, because it bordered on a giggle. “It’s me, in person.” She tucked her rolled mat under her arm. The sooner she got out of here the better, because Dawson Harris was making no secret of studying her—when his girlfriend was on the other side of the room.

  “This class was a lot harder than I thought it would be,” Dawson continued.

  Clara almost laughed again and was about to say something about how he made it look easy—but would that be too flirty? “I thought yoga would be easy, too, before I tried it.”

  Dawson nodded and set his hands on his hips.

  Clara refused to notice the definition of his arms. He was attractive, so what? A lot of men were. She didn’t need to ogle her boss’s lawyer. “Well, Leslie’s a great teacher,” she said, trying to think of an exit plan.

  “Yeah, I guess so.” He gave a half shrug. “I have nothing else to compare it to. This is my first class.”

  “Dawson!” Leslie called out, waving him over.

  Time for Clara to make herself scarce.

  Dawson drew away from Leslie’s rather tight grip. He had no problem hugging his condo neighbor, especially since she’d been begging him to come to her class for months and he’d finally made it. But he was probably not smelling too great, since he’d run several miles before showing up to the yoga class.

  “I’m so glad you came,” Leslie gushed, her dark ponytail bouncing as she talked. “I thought you said you were working late tonight.”

  “My client rescheduled,” Dawson said. He’d been on his way to his meeting when Leslie had waved him down in the condo parking lot. Dawson did have a late meeting, but when it was cancelled, he made the detour to the gym. He preferred running outside, but he’d put off Leslie long enough. And he figured if he went to one of her classes, she’d stop being so persistent. Even though Leslie was about five years older than Dawson, who was thirty, she seemed to have the energy of a twenty-year-old.

  “Great,” she said. “I’m so glad you could make it. Can you come to my Saturday class too? I mean, you really need to come a few times to know if yoga works for you. I teach Tuesday and Friday nights, and Saturday mornings.”

  Dawson knew. Leslie recited her teaching schedule every time they ran into each other. He wondered if there was anything she talked about that wasn’t yoga-related. Leslie was a pretty woman, enthusiastic, but he hadn’t seen much depth so far. This alone had made him wary—that and the fact it seemed most people in his condo complex were divorced men and women, with a lot of on-again, off-again relationships in the mix.

  Dawson had found out the hard way at a neighborhood barbeque a couple of weeks after he’d moved in. He was hit on by no fewer than five women throughout the night. And two of them made it c
lear they only wanted a hookup—no commitment.

  Fresh from his own divorce less than a year ago, Dawson wanted to stay clear of even casual dating. He accepted most of the blame for his marriage falling apart. And since the separation, he had become even more of a workaholic. He’d finally decided it was time for some balance and promised himself he’d go running several times a week. Rain, snow, or sun.

  The exercise had helped. Not only had it reduced stress and helped him sleep better, but his mind seemed sharper, and he was more patient with his mom. He wasn’t sure if that was a direct result of increased serotonin in his brain, but he’d finally gone on two dates his mom had set up. Three months ago, but still. And now she was bugging him again, reminding him that there was no reason he couldn’t have a healthy marriage with a kid on the way.

  “Do you want to get something at the juice bar with me?” Leslie asked, her gaze hopeful.

  Dawson was tempted to say yes, if only to not hurt her feelings, but that spark of hope in her eyes might only lead to more expectations on Leslie’s part. And Dawson already knew that his friendship with Leslie would never move up a notch.

  “I’ve still got a ton of paperwork to get through before tomorrow morning,” Dawson said, glancing past Leslie.

  It appeared that Clara had already left. A stab of disappointment shot through Dawson. Clara had been friendly and efficient on the phone every time they’d talked, and more than once Dawson had teased her by saying he should hire her as his own assistant. Clara had always laughed it off but continued to be sweet and friendly. So tonight, after introducing himself, he was surprised that she had acted standoffish. He hadn’t expected the woman on the phone to act less friendly in person.

  He already knew she was a striking redhead from the picture on the realtor website, and seeing her in person, even in a workout setting, had only made him more curious about her. Her eyes were a deep blue that reminded him of a dark turquoise, and she was more petite than he expected, maybe just over five feet tall. Her smile was quick, almost business like, but he liked the fact that she didn’t seem to be wearing any makeup. Her natural beauty was just as attractive as her full makeup in the website picture. He’d have to ask Jeff if she had a boyfriend. Dawson could hear Jeff’s groan now. Jeff always complained that Dawson could pick up a woman with the snap of his fingers.