Say You Love Me

by Heather B. Moore

  “True,” Clara said. “But you had no trouble commenting on my eating habits.”

  He laughed, and it was good to hear, Clara decided. Something in her heart had tugged when Dawson spoke of his divorce. She could see that the confident, charismatic man had been through some tough trials.

  “So, what do you think about being completely honest with each other, right from the beginning?” Dawson said, watching her closely.

  Clara wondered if she’d ever get used to this man’s close scrutiny. He was a lawyer, so maybe it was in his nature, but he’d also apparently completely missed the boat with his ex-wife. “I think honesty is generally a good policy, but like you said, there are things you don’t say to others. Even if it’s the truth.”

  “Because the truth can hurt?” Dawson mused.

  “Exactly.”

  “Okay, I get that, but what if you told me one truth about me . . . just one that you carefully select, but it’s the absolute truth.”

  Clara exhaled. “I’m not sure that’s a good thing, Mr. Harris.”

  He gave her a pleading look. “Humor me.”

  Clara used one of the moist wipes the waitress had brought to clean off her hands. Then she folded her arms and leaned back. “What sort of truth are we talking about?”

  “Let’s say . . .” He paused, but Clara knew perfectly well that he’d already thought this all through. “Let’s tell each other what our first impressions were of each other when we met at the yoga class. The honest, brutal truth.”

  Clara covered her mouth and groaned. “I don’t think so.”

  Dawson tilted his head, his eyes flashing with amusement. “Why not?”

  “Because, like I said earlier, I don’t want your head to get too big.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “So it was good stuff.”

  Clara’s face warmed.

  “All right, all right,” he said lifting his hands. “How about I start?”

  She exhaled. “I don’t know if that would be much better, because then you’ll still expect me to tell you what I thought.”

  He shrugged those broad shoulders of his. “I’m not going to force you to spill your secrets, Miss Benson.” Then he winked.

  She sighed. “Just get it over with.” She wanted to bury her face in her hands, but she held his gaze.

  Dawson grinned. “Well, I have to preface this by saying that I’d seen your picture on the website. I won’t deny that I thought you were pretty. We’d talked on the phone a few times, and although I thought you were a personable office manager and Jeff was lucky to have you working for him, I also wasn’t ready to let my mind go into any sort of direction that might lead to asking you out.”

  “Because of your divorce?”

  “That’s what I told myself. But when I met you, that all sort of went out the window,” he said.

  “What went out of the window?”

  “The idea that I wasn’t ready to move on, or to try starting over on any level with another woman and possible relationship.” Dawson shifted closer in the booth and lowered his voice. “So, when I did see you—meet you in person—I was taken by surprise.”

  He was close enough that Clara imagined she could feel the warmth coming from his skin.

  “What were you surprised about?” Clara prompted when he didn’t continue right away. The intensity of his gaze was making her pulse hammer.

  “How all my hang-ups seemed to evaporate,” he said. “Leslie has been hinting at going out for weeks, and a few other women in my circles. But I’d done everything I could to avoid them or turn them down politely. But when I saw you . . .” His gaze scanned her face, then returned to her eyes. “I knew you were different.”

  Clara rolled her eyes. “Yeah. Different. Like I said.”

  He leaned toward her, and their arms touched. “Different than any woman I’d met. I can’t exactly explain it, but I couldn’t stop thinking about you. So, I decided to satisfy my curiosity, and I came to your office to see you in person again. To see if I was still interested enough to ask you out.”

  “And I turned you down.”

  “And you turned me down.”

  Clara swallowed. He smelled good. And he was saying very nice, flattering words.

  He raised his brows and quirked his mouth. He was waiting for her.

  “Truth?” she said.

  “Truth.”

  “I didn’t know who you were at first—since I’d never looked up your firm’s website or anything,” Clara said. “But when you came into the class, I was very aware of you, just like all of the other women were.”

  His eyes widened slightly, but he said nothing.

  “You can’t be surprised,” she continued. “I immediately knew you weren’t a regular and assumed you were there for Leslie. So I kept my eyes closed and did my best to ignore you.”

  “Did it work?” he asked.

  “It might have worked if you didn’t show Jeff those romances you bought.”

  Dawson’s chuckle was low. “But what did you think when we actually met?”

  The restaurant was feeling a bit warm, so she took another sip of her ice water. “Well . . . I thought you were, uh, handsome. And then I felt a little jealous of Leslie.”

  A smile played on his lips, and Clara knew she was blushing.

  “Don’t get all worked up, because there are a lot of men I find attractive,” she said. “But I hadn’t really expected you to look like you.” She waved a hand. “I thought you were already taken, so I just put you out of my mind.”

  “Hmm,” he said, but didn’t elaborate.

  “Then Jeff called.”

  Dawson smiled.

  Clara took a longer drink of her ice water. “I think that’s enough truth for today,” she said. “Speaking the truth is harder than it sounds.”

  He looked reluctant to drop their conversation, but then he said, “Do you want dessert?”

  “I couldn’t,” she said.

  “Something to go?”

  “No, I’m fine. But you’re welcome to order something.” She shifted so that she wasn’t so close to Dawson.

  He signaled the waitress. “We’ll take the check, please.”

  Clara was finally feeling more calm and cool. They were back to reality. Her racing pulse could return to normal. This dinner with Dawson had been nice. But she remembered that she didn’t want rose-colored glasses. She’d once thought Max was everything she wanted in a man. So how could she enjoy spending time with someone so different?

  When the waitress brought the check, Dawson snatched it.

  “If you pay, it will be a date,” Clara said, reaching for it.

  He held it out of her reach. The only way she could get it was if she climbed over his lap.

  “How about I’ll pay today,” he said. “And you can pay next time.”

  “Next time?”

  “Yeah. I mean, I never told you what I liked about those romances.”

  Clara folded her arms as he signed the receipt. “You could tell me now.”

  “Nope.” Dawson looked up and smiled.

  Why did he have to have such a nice smile?

  “I think it would be good for you to be in suspense,” he said. “Ready?”

  She nodded and scooted out of the booth. Dawson was faster and held out his hand to help her up. She put her hand in his warm one. She withdrew her hand as soon as possible so that he wouldn’t think she was going soft on him.

  He just chuckled as he motioned for her to lead the way. He was a gentleman.

  She found that she was smiling as she walked outside. It had grown dark, and the air had cooled considerably. She tried not to shiver, but Dawson noticed.

  “Cold?” he asked, opening the passenger door of his truck.

  “I’ll warm up soon enough,” she said.

  “Here,” he said, stepping near her and reaching into the back seat of the truck.

  Clara had to lean back so he wouldn’t bump into her.

  He held
up a suit coat. “Put this on.”

  It would keep her warmer. So with Dawson’s help, she slipped her arms into the sleeves, then climbed into the front seat.

  Dawson shut the door after her, and as he walked around the truck to the other side, she allowed herself to relish the feeling of wearing his jacket. It smelled like him. Warm and spicy and just . . . Dawson.

  Dawson woke up to light streaming through the blinds in his bedroom. He squinted in the brightness and reached for his cell phone on the bedside table. He flipped it over and saw that it was nine o’clock in the morning. Panic jolted through him, and then he remembered it was Sunday. Technically, he could sleep in. But he couldn’t remember sleeping in since high school.

  He lay back on his pillows again, the phone still in his hand, as his mind caught up with the events from the last few days. Thursday night he and Clara had gone to Rick’s BBQ. Friday he’d won his big court case, getting his client who owned a used car lot the money her ex-husband owed her. He’d come home exhausted, and behind on preparing for Monday. He’d been up until after midnight, then awake again early Saturday.

  He’d worked through the entire day, only stopping for an obligatory lunch with his mom. He’d also texted Clara. She’d replied, but everything was short. Dawson decided he didn’t like to communicate with Clara through texting. In person was much, much better. Today, he hoped to see her.

  But first, he’d need to see if his paralegal had reviewed the documents he’d sent over yesterday. He sat up in bed and pulled up the email app on his phone. Sure enough, there was the file. After a quick shower and something to eat, he’d open it up on his laptop and go over the changes. He typed a thank-you reply, then made his way to the shower.

  Fifteen minutes later, he had juice and a bagel sitting on the kitchen counter next to his laptop. He’d just started reading his paralegal’s notes when someone knocked at his door. He decided to just ignore it.

  Another knock sounded. Then Leslie’s voice came through, loud and clear. “I know you’re in there, Dawson. Your red truck is a dead giveaway.” She laughed.

  Dawson stifled a groan, and he walked to the door. Sure enough, through the peephole he could see Leslie, wearing a hot-pink jacket and bouncing up and down.

  He turned the dead bolt and opened the door.

  “Oh, goodness!” she said, her eyes widening. “You’re, uh, not dressed.”

  Dawson glanced down and realized he wasn’t wearing a shirt. Only his gym shorts. He smiled, hoping to pass on the message that he could go shirtless in his own apartment.

  “I—I stopped by to invite you to a neighbor lunch,” Leslie said, finally meeting his eyes. Her face nearly matched the color of her jacket. “It’s just me, you, Tiff, and Robby. You know him, from apartment 3F?”

  Vaguely. Dawson scrubbed a hand through his hair. Now that he’d gone to Leslie’s yoga class, he felt that he didn’t have to play the good-neighbor routine to the extent of having lunch together. “I already have lunch plans, but thanks for the invite.”

  “Oh? Really?” Leslie gave him a slow smile. “With another woman?”

  Dawson could easily bring up his mom at this point, but that wouldn’t deter someone like Leslie. She’d probably like him all the more for it. But if he told her he was going out with another woman, specifically Clara, whom Leslie actually knew . . .

  “Yes, Clara Benson,” he said. “She’s in your yoga class.”

  Leslie’s face lost some of its color. “Clara? She’s . . . yes, she’s in my class.” She looked Dawson up and down. “I didn’t think she was your type, you know, she’s sort of . . .” Leslie pursed her lips.

  “Thanks again for the invite,” he said and started to close the door.

  “Wait!” Leslie shot out her hand to stop the door from closing. “What about later? I mean, maybe just you and I can go on a hike. It’s really good for your thigh muscles.”

  Dawson almost rolled his eyes when she ogled him again. He leaned against the door frame. “I don’t think Clara would like that,” he said in what he hoped sounded like a regretful tone. “She’s sort of the jealous type, if you know what I mean.”

  “Oh.” Leslie’s eyes rounded. “I got it. Not a problem. But, if things don’t work out with Clara, we can have some fun together.”

  Dawson had absolutely no reply to that. He nodded and shut his door, sliding the lock into place so Leslie could hear it. He turned away from the door. Would Leslie say something to Clara about their conversation at the next yoga class? Would Clara be mad? He’d pretty much told Leslie that he and Clara were dating.

  He crossed the room and picked up his cell phone. It was 10:00 on Sunday morning, and maybe Clara slept in longer. But this was sort of an emergency.

  He pulled up her number and pressed CALL.

  When she didn’t answer, he debated about whether he should leave a message. “Hi, it’s Dawson. Or Mr. Harris. Whichever you prefer. I might have just told Leslie a desperate lie. So I’m hoping that you’ll call me back, soon, and I can explain.”

  He hung up and tried to return to reviewing the brief on his laptop, but he found himself checking his phone every few minutes. When it finally rang an hour later, he snatched it off the counter. Heart hammering, he answered, “You called back.”

  “Are you okay?” Clara asked, concern in her voice.

  “I didn’t mean to worry you,” Dawson said quickly. “I just . . . uh . . . can you meet for lunch today?”

  “Lunch?” Clara paused. “What’s going on with Leslie?”

  Dawson started pacing as he talked. His nerves were in a giant knot. He told her about the conversation at the door, and Clara started laughing.

  “What’s funny?” he asked.

  “You opened the door without a shirt on?”

  Dawson stopped pacing. “Is that a crime?”

  “I saw how Leslie fawned all over you at the yoga class,” Clara said. “You probably made one of her wildest dreams come true.”

  “I’m not interested in Leslie, and no matter how many times I turn her down, she doesn’t get the message,” Dawson said. “So I might have embellished a little about you and me.”

  “What do you mean?” Clara’s tone instantly sounded wary.

  Dawson explained how Leslie had invited him to lunch, and how he’d said he had lunch plans with Clara . . . then implied they were dating.

  “We aren’t dating,” Clara said.

  He tried not to let her bluntness sting. “I know,” he said. “We’re just hanging out, but I didn’t think Leslie needed the clarification.”

  When Clara didn’t say anything for a long time, Dawson looked at his phone to make sure they were still connected. “Clara?”

  “Jeff told me your mom sometimes tries to set you up on dates,” she finally said.

  “Yes . . .”

  “So that day you asked me to the symphony, you were looking to fill a ticket,” she continued. “I’m thinking your mom was trying to set you up, and you were trying to get out of it.”

  “That’s not exactly—”

  “And now you’re trying to get out of being pursued by Leslie by using me as an excuse.”

  Dawson exhaled. “I was going to call you anyway.”

  “Really?” Clara said, her tone doubtful. “You’re a grown man, a successful attorney, and, well, I think you can tell Leslie the truth. Remember what we talked about at dinner the other night? How telling the truth from the very beginning can make our lives so much easier?”

  “You’re right,” Dawson said. He didn’t know whether to be impressed with Clara or to feel like he was a huge idiot—or maybe a combination of both. “You’re absolutely right. Have you ever thought about going to law school?”

  “No,” she said with a laugh.

  Dawson relaxed at the sound of her laugh. Maybe she wouldn’t hang up on him after all.

  “I’m an elementary school teacher,” she said. “I was teaching kindergarten before I came to Pine Valley.
You’d be surprised how much skill it takes to moderate the emotions and actions of five-year-olds.”

  He crossed to the couch in the living room and sat down. “What made you change your career?”

  She seemed to hesitate for a moment. “My school was a private school, and it shut down temporarily because it was under investigation for financial fraud. About the same time things ended with my ex, and then my grandma had her stroke. After she died, I quit my job and decided to start over.”

  Dawson’s mind reeled. “Wow. Any one of those things would have been tough, but all three?”

  “What’s the saying, ‘When it rains it pours’?”

  “Yeah, life can be strange that way,” he said. “I’m sorry about your grandma and your job. Now that you told me, I can totally see you as a kindergarten teacher. I’ll bet every five-year-old boy was in love with you.”

  Clara gave a soft laugh. “I might have gotten one or two love notes.”

  Dawson grinned. “I’d love to hear more about what brought you to Pine Valley, so I’m hoping that you’ll want to get some lunch together.”

  “You’re incorrigible.”

  “Is that a yes?” Dawson asked.

  “Maybe.”

  “Ah, that word again.” He groaned. “Okay, I’m going to Leslie’s apartment right now, and I’m going to tell her the truth. Then around one o’clock I’ll be standing in line at the Main Street Café, trying to decide if I want soup or a sandwich, or maybe both. I’ll save you a seat in case you happen to show up. Deal?”

  “I can see how you win court cases,” Clara said.

  Dawson heard the smile in her voice, and that was all he needed.

  Five minutes later, he knocked on Leslie’s apartment door. He’d never been to her apartment, but she’d told him which one it was plenty of times. Oh, and he’d also put on a shirt.

  The door opened almost instantly, and Leslie’s eyes about popped open when she saw him. That was truly a feat, because she’d certainly looked through her peephole before opening the door.

  “Oh my gosh, you came!” Leslie stepped forward and threw her arms about his neck.

  Dawson had no choice but to hug her back.