The irony in Dawson’s voice was plain, and Clara smiled to herself. “How did your mom react to that?”
“Oh, she didn’t buy it for a minute,” he said. “She wants to meet you, of course.”
“She sounds like a very interested mother.” His mom sounded pushy, if Clara was going to tell the truth. She’d been doing the dishes when Dawson had started texting her, so now that he called, she moved through her small apartment and sat on the cheap couch that had come with the “fully furnished” apartment.
“Normally, she wouldn’t be like this,” he continued, “but the divorce put my parents on edge. Now that some time has passed, my mom thinks she can set me up with just the right woman.”
Definitely a pushy mother. “Anyone in particular?”
“Her most recent effort was actually a girl I used to date in high school,” Dawson said. “She’s divorced with two little kids now.”
Well, it sounded like his mom was pretty open-minded if she was trying to set her son up with a single mom. Clara leaned back against the couch. “Instant parenthood?”
“Yep,” Dawson said with a chuckle. “That doesn’t bother me as much as my old girlfriend. There’s a reason we broke up.”
“Oh, do tell,” Clara said. “I love high school drama.”
Dawson laughed. “I guess I was the only who thought we were exclusive, because I found out Paula had two other guys dangling from her fingertips.”
“Ouch,” Clara said. “That’s probably worse in high school when guys and girls get so infatuated with each other. Maybe Paula would like my ex. He’s into the whole multiple-relationships thing.”
“He cheated on you?”
Clara swallowed. Maybe she’d let on too much. “It was more than cheating,” she said. “His affair had gone on more than a year.”
Dawson was quiet for a moment. “I’m sorry.”
“I used to be sorry, but not anymore,” she said. “When my grandma died, I was able to make a clean break from everything. If I hadn’t found out when I did about Max, I probably would have kept living his lies.”
“Truth is always better,” he said in a quiet voice.
“Yes, even when it’s painful.”
“Truth—did you have fun today?” Dawson asked.
“With you?” Clara teased. It was nice to have the conversation become more lighthearted.
“Yes, with me.”
A warm shiver traveled through her body, and she pulled her legs up onto the couch. “I did. Thank you for inviting me.”
She could hear the smile in his voice when he next spoke. “It was my pleasure.”
“Truth?”
“Absolutely,” Dawson said, his voice warm. “I’m thinking we should go to dinner on, say, Tuesday? We have a book to discuss.”
Clara shook her head and laughed. “You’re extremely persistent.”
“And convincing?”
“That too,” she said. “Since it looks like I might be changing my yoga class schedule, Tuesday might actually work.”
“I hope Leslie isn’t weird around you,” Dawson said.
“I’m already going to a different class.” Clara leaned forward. Talking to Dawson on the phone was making her want to see him again. “We can text on Tuesday to see if it still works for both of us.”
“Do I have to wait until Tuesday to text you?” Dawson teased.
“You know,” Clara started, “when I said I was fine with being friends, I didn’t mean best friends.”
Dawson laughed. “Friends or best friends, I’ll take it.”
Clara grinned.
“I hate to do this,” he said. “Especially since I’m the one who called you. But it looks like Mandy has sent me about three emails since we’ve been on the phone.”
“Mandy?”
“My paralegal,” he said. “We have a new case we’re starting tomorrow, so this weekend has been about doing our due diligence.”
“Ah, so you’re not the only workaholic?” Clara said.
“No, and believe me, I’m working on my nasty habits. Today, in fact, was a banner day. Going to lunch and hanging out with you—well, let’s just say that you’ve been good for me, Miss Benson.”
The sincerity of his tone reached deep into Clara’s heart. “Glad I could help, friend.”
His chuckle was soft.
“I’ll let you go, then,” she continued. “As for me, since I’m not preparing school lessons for this week, I’m off to read more, and maybe take a bath.”
“Uh, you probably shouldn’t say something like that to me.”
Clara’s body heated when she realized what he was referring to. She gave a weak laugh. After they hung up, she released a groan. Dawson was . . . overwhelming. Just as she’d told him that time in the office. Yet, she was already looking forward to Tuesday night. She wondered what else his mom had said about her. Clara sensed that Dawson was holding back on something. But there was no reason to push him on the topic, because Clara didn’t have any plans to meet his mom. That would mean they’d be officially dating.
The thought only made Clara feel fluttery inside, and that probably wasn’t a good thing. It was becoming harder and harder to keep her distance from Dawson.
She didn’t hear from him for an entire two hours, and when a text came through from Dawson, she laughed.
Want to move the dinner to Monday night instead?
She wrote back: Maybe.
He texted back a broken-hearted emoji.
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.”