Before he knew it, dinner was over, and his mom brought out a cheesecake that she drizzled with raspberry sauce.
“Wow, this is delicious,” Clara said. “I must get the recipe.”
His mom laughed, and Clara laughed with her. They already had inside jokes between them.
Clara asked his dad about his business, and he spent some time talking about the companies he managed accounting for. Clara looked duly impressed.
Dawson started to clear the table with his mom, and when they were both at the sink, she whispered, “You did well, son. She’s a fine young lady.” Then his mom turned away before Dawson could ask anything more. But he felt as if he were walking two feet off the ground.
By the time they got ready to leave, Dawson couldn’t remember what he was worried about with Clara meeting his parents. He couldn’t imagine the evening going any better than it had, despite the picture album.
“We’ll see you soon,” his mom told Clara.
“Yes, I’ll have Dawson arrange a good time to have you over for dinner,” she said. “It will be nice to cook for more than two people.”
“Goodness,” his mom said, her smile bright. “You are a wonder.” She stepped forward and hugged Clara goodbye.
It was dark outside. Dawson turned to wave just before his mom shut the front door.
“Well, I think you impressed my parents,” Dawson said, casting Clara a sideways glance.
She smiled. “Your mom is not scary, at all.”
“I never said she was scary,” he said.
“Maybe not that exact word, but you definitely implied it,” Clara said.
They reached the truck, and Dawson opened the door for her. “I think she’s met her match.”
Clara looked up at him, arching a brow. “Is that a compliment?”
He grinned. “Of course. And it doesn’t hurt that you invited my parents over for dinner. Romy never did that. I suggested it a handful of times, but she shut me down.”
Clara nodded but didn’t say anything. She climbed up into her seat.
Dawson walked around the truck and climbed in. After he started the engine, he said, “Do you want to come to my place? It’s still early.”
“You don’t have a brief to review or a hundred emails to answer?” she teased.
“Probably, but they can wait.” He grabbed her hand and linked their fingers, and Clara leaned her head against his shoulder.
“Then, okay, I’ll come over.”
“So, what did you think?” Dawson asked. “Besides not scary.”
“They’re great, Dawson,” she said in a soft voice. “You’re a lucky guy.”
He was lucky in many ways, he knew. Just having Clara at his side, holding his hand, was enough. Seeing her at the kitchen counter, her head bent next to his mom’s as they looked through the album together had done something unexplainable to his heart. And he knew he’d lost his heart to Clara completely.
He looked down at her in the dimness. She’d closed her eyes and wore a half smile. “Thanks for coming with me, and thanks for being your sweet self,” he said.
She nodded but didn’t say anything.
When they reached his condo, Clara said, “Next time they invite us, I’m bringing something.”
Dawson chuckled as he parked the truck. “All right. I think the ice is broken now.” He came around the truck to open her door, and they walked hand in hand to his condo.
Clara entered the condo first and turned on one of the living room lamps. She walked to the middle of the living room and stopped, wrapping her arms around her torso.
“Are you cold?” Dawson asked.
“No.”
“Do you want a drink or anything?”
She shook her head.
He crossed to her and turned her to face him. “Are you all right?”
Her blue eyes blinked up at him, and he could see that there were tears in her eyes.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Nothing’s wrong,” she whispered. “It’s just that your mom was so nice. I mean, she hugged me like she cared about me.”
Dawson touched the edge of her chin and tilted her head up. “That’s a good thing, isn’t it?”
She nodded and wiped away a tear from her cheek. “It is a good thing. I just haven’t had a maternal hug since my grandma, you know. And I never had a mom, and until tonight, I guess I didn’t realize how much I missed out. I mean, my grandparents were great, so don’t take it wrong.”
Dawson leaned down and kissed her cheek. “I get it, and you can have all the hugs you want from my mom.”
Clara released a half-laugh, then wrapped her arms about his waist and nestled against him. Dawson pulled her close, resting his chin on top of her head and breathing in her citrus scent.
Her body was warm and soft against his, and he knew he could be happy standing here, holding her, for a long, long time. “What do you think about joining her book club?” he asked after a moment.
“I think I’d like that,” she said with a sniffle.
“Hey,” he said, drawing away and gazing into her eyes. “Everything will be okay. Don’t be sad.”
“I don’t think I’m sad, exactly,” she said. “I think I’m so happy that I’m overwhelmed.” She lifted a hand and ran her fingers along his jaw. “You’re a good man, Dawson.”
“Despite our differences?” he asked with a smile.
“Your differences make you amazing,” she said.
“What about my flaws?”
“I can live with them.”
“Ah, that’s like music to my soul.”
Clara laughed. “You can always make me laugh.” Her hand slid behind his neck, and she pressed closer. “I’m a lucky woman.”
Her hand on the back of his neck made him want to lean closer and kiss her. But he refrained, for a short time. “I’m the lucky one, Clara. And I should probably tell you, sooner than later . . .” He stopped talking, because he didn’t want to be too impulsive.
“What should you probably tell me?” She held his gaze, her eyes a darker blue than normal in the dim light of the living room.
Dawson slowly released his breath. “I should tell you the truth.”
She didn’t seem surprised at this but only nodded. “Truth is always good.”
“I don’t want to freak you out, though.”
“It’s always better to know the truth, don’t you think?” she said in a quiet voice.
“I agree,” he said. “Even if it takes a pretty big leap of faith.”
“Dawson,” she said. “Stop stalling.”
He almost smiled, but the truth was that there was a huge lump in his throat. What would she do? What would she say? “I love you, Clara. I have for some time.”
She stared at him, but she didn’t draw away or run out the door. Dawson hoped that was a good sign. Unless she was in shock.
“Some time?” she asked. “How long?”
This wasn’t what he expected her to ask. “Probably longer than I realize. It might have started when you made me dinner for the first time.”
One side of her mouth lifted. “Oh, really?”
“Or before that,” he said, his gaze dipping to her mouth as he wondered if it would be okay if he skipped all this talk and just kissed her. “Like maybe when you first kissed me.”
Clara smirked. “You’re such a man.”
“I’m taking that as a compliment.”
She ran her hands over his shoulders and stopped at his biceps. “You know,” she said in a slow voice. “I think I might feel the same way?”
Dawson’s heart felt like it might leap out of his chest. Literally. “You think you might?” He’d take think and might any day, but he wasn’t going to let her get off so easily.
She pressed a kiss on his neck. Then another kiss on his collar bone.
“Are you telling me the truth?” he whispered.
“Always,” she said, then kissed him at the base of his throat.
She drew away, but her hands stayed on his arms. “I should have never told you that about my grandma. Now you’re going to use it against me.”
“Not against you, but if it works to encourage you . . .” He raised his brows, waiting.
She looped her arms about his neck. “All right. You win. I love you, Mr. Harris.” Then she kissed him, for real this time. No more teasing.
Dawson groaned and pulled her close, claiming her mouth, kissing her so she wouldn’t ever doubt that he was willing to back up his words with actions.
“So,” Clara said when they finally drew away to get in some breathing time, “when should we invite your parents over?”
“Really? That’s what you’re thinking about?” he asked.
“No, I was thinking about how you’re an amazing kisser and how much I love you,” she said, her smile growing. “That led to thinking about what you said about the spaghetti dinner, and that reminded me about inviting your parents over.” She shrugged. “Truth.”
“Okay, I can live with that,” Dawson said. “Since it included you thinking about how much you love me.” He raised his brows in question.
“Which is . . . a lot?” she asked.
He grinned. “That’s exactly what I was hoping to hear.”
She laughed, and in a swift move he lifted her off the ground.
“Put me down,” she squealed.
So he deposited her on the couch. “What are we watching tonight?” he asked, sitting next to her and handing her the remote from the coffee table.
She nestled against him and gave the remote back. “You choose tonight.”
“That’s a first,” he mused.
Wrapping her arms about his torso, she said, “There will be a lot of firsts with us, Dawson. Get used to it.”
He wrapped his arm about her while he turned on the flat screen. He fully planned on making sure she was right about all the firsts. And he looked forward to each one.
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
Click on the covers to visit Heather’s Amazon Author Page:
Heather B. Moore is a four-time USA Today bestselling author. She writes historical thrillers under the pen name H.B. Moore; her latest thrillers include The Killing Curse and Poetic Justice. Under the name Heather B. Moore, she writes romance and women’s fiction. Her newest releases include the historical romance Love is Come and Ruth. She’s also one of the coauthors of the USA Today bestselling series: A Timeless Romance Anthology. Heather writes speculative fiction under the pen name Jane Redd; releases include the Solstice series and Mistress Grim. Heather is represented by Dystel, Goderich & Bourret.
For book updates, sign up for Heather’s email list: hbmoore.com/contact
Website: HBMoore.com
Facebook: Fans of H. B. Moore
Blog: MyWritersLair.blogspot.com
Instagram: @authorhbmoore
Twitter: @HeatherBMoore
Say You Love Me Page 16