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 dental 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.”
“Hey,” Clara said, squeezing his hand lightly. “You’re talking to a woman who was engaged to a man who was in another long-term relationship. At least Romy wasn’t cheating on you, because being blind to that makes me a first-class dunce.”
Dawson sped up the truck to get around a slower car. He’d tightened his grip on Clara’s hand without realizing it.
“Dawson, are you okay?” she asked.
He loosened his grip and slowed his speed. “I don’t know if she was cheating on me. I look back now, and there were signs—signs I’d ignored, of course.”
“Oh,” Clara said in a faint voice.
“She never came home from the gym until close to midnight. I assumed it closed at 11:00 p.m., but after our divorce I found out it closed at 10:00 p.m. Even finding that out, I continued to justify that she might be cleaning workout equipment or something.”
“Did you ever ask her?” she asked.
“I don’t think I wanted to know,” he said, glancing over at her to find that she was gazing at him. “I mean, it would only add insult to injury.”
Clara bit her lip. “The more I learn about Romy, the less I like her. I mean, I know she wrote you a letter with all of her complaints, but I’m thinking you could write a similar letter to her.”
Dawson raised his brows. “You know, I think you’re right.” He tugged her hand toward him and kissed her knuckles. She didn’t pull away. “But I think I’d like to keep Romy in the past.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Clara said in a soft voice.
Then she leaned her head against his shoulder, and Dawson felt like he’d won the lottery.