“Go,” Jeff told Dawson over the phone. “Just get it over with.”
Dawson scrubbed a hand through his hair. “I know, and I’m going.” A few minutes later, he hung up with Jeff and gazed out his living room window. There wasn’t much to see—a parking lot, then beyond that, the road he needed to be driving on right now.
He was picking up Clara and taking her to his parents’ house for dinner. It would be the first time they’d all met. Ironic, really, that he was nervous now, because before they were dating, he’d invited her to meet them twice. First the symphony, then the barbeque.
Dawson exhaled. Everything had become more complicated lately, because he was in love with Clara. But he didn’t know if he should tell her. It had only been a few weeks since she’d closed on her grandparents’ house. And even though they’d spent almost every night having dinner together, mostly at his place, and she wasn’t holding back in the affection department, he sometimes felt that things were still fragile. He didn’t want to jeopardize anything.
She was trusting him, and that was important to him right now.
He grabbed his keys and cell phone from the kitchen counter. He’d made it a habit to turn off his phone Saturday afternoons and evenings—and he found that it wasn’t as stressful to do as he’d thought. He could always catch up Sunday morning if he needed to.
Once in his truck, he made the short drive to Clara’s apartment. They lived close now, but that might change soon. She’d been looking at one of the newer Pine Valley developments lately and had talked about building a house. This was good news, because it meant that she was looking at Pine Valley as a permanent thing.
He pulled up to her apartment complex, and before he could turn off the truck and get out, she came out of her door. Was he that late? He looked at the clock on the dash to see that he was fifteen minutes later than when he’d said he’d pick her up.
She waved as she approached and jumped into the passenger seat. “Cold feet?” she asked with a smile.
“No.”
“I can tell when you’re nervous, Dawson.” She leaned across the seat and slid a hand behind his neck.
He leaned in for a kiss. “How?”
“You’re late,” she said, then kissed him. She drew away too fast. “You’re the last person to procrastinate anything, but if you’re nervous, then you’re late.”
“Okay, I’ll admit it,” he said. “I’m nervous about what you’ll think of my mom.”
“You’re not worried about what she’ll think of me?” Clara asked, her blue eyes widening as she teased him.
“I already know she’ll love you,” he said. “Once all the preliminaries are over.”
Clara laughed and turned to clip on her seatbelt. “Then let’s get to those preliminaries.”
Dawson pulled out of the parking lot, then reached for Clara’s hand. “Did I tell you that you’re amazing?”
She squeezed his hand. “Once or twice.”
When they pulled up to his parents’ house, he saw his mom’s silhouette in the living room window.
He jumped out of the truck and walked around to open Clara’s door. He took her hand securely in his and walked her up the front walk. Then he turned the doorknob and knocked as he pushed it open.
“We’re here,” he called out.
His mom appeared almost instantly, followed by his dad. They were both all smiles, and Dawson let himself relax just a little.
“Welcome,” his mom said, stepping forward and embracing Clara. “We’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”
Dawson was surprised at the warm welcome, but his mom had always been a hugger, something that had annoyed Romy. She’d eventually trained his mom to stop hugging her when they met. Dawson was glad Clara didn’t have such qualms.
Clara hugged his mom back, then shook his dad’s hand.
“Thank you for the invitation,” Clara said, moving back to Dawson’s side, where they linked hands again. “Dawson told me not to bring anything, but I must say that I feel guilty coming empty-handed.”
His mom’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re our guest, and I had everything around anyway. Besides, I wouldn’t exactly say you’re empty-handed.” Her gaze went pointedly to their linked hands.
Dawson wanted to groan.
Clara only laughed. “Very true, Mrs. Harris. Dawson is quite the handful.”
His mom laughed too.
Dawson stared. What was going on? His mom and Clara were cracking jokes about him within seconds of meeting each other?
“Come with me, Clara,” his mom said, glancing at Dawson, then motioning for Clara to follow. “Dawson says you’re a whiz in the kitchen, and I have something to ask you. We’ll let the men catch up on whatever it is they need to catch up on.”
Clara immediately released Dawson’s hand, as if she were trying to get away from him.
The two women left the entryway and disappeared around the corner, with his mom asking Clara about the differences between some spices he wasn’t familiar with.
“Well, son,” his dad said, clearing his throat. “I guess it’s just us until the dinner comes out of the oven.”
Dawson met his dad’s gaze.
“What’s going on in there?” he asked.
His dad smiled. “Let’s sit down and let the women get to know each other.”
So Dawson sat on one of his mother’s blue-and-white-striped couches in the front room while his dad talked about some accounting snafu at work. But Dawson could barely focus on the conversation and wondered how Clara was doing. Finally, he stood. “Sorry to cut you off, Dad, but I’m going to go see if Mom needs any help.”
His dad rose to his feet too. “Sounds like a good idea to me.”
When Dawson walked into the kitchen, he found his mom and Clara not cooking. Not even close. They were sitting at the counter next to each other, looking at a picture album.
Dawson came up behind them to see that this particular album was of his baby years. “Really, Mom?” he said. “My baby album?”
She ignored him. “He loved the park,” she told Clara as she tapped a long nail against a picture of Dawson sitting on a teeter totter. “I used to have to drag him out of the park crying.”
“Mom,” Dawson said again, but to no effect.
The timer went off on the oven. Neither of the women moved. “I guess I’ll get that.” Dawson walked around the counter. He glanced back and caught Clara’s smile. Okay, so maybe this would all be worth it in the end. He’d never imagined that his mom and girlfriend would team up together. He grabbed hot pads and opened the oven. It looked like his mom had made some sort of chicken casserole.
Since the table was already set in the dining room, he carried the casserole over to the dining table and set it down. “Anyone hungry?” he asked.
The women were still involved in their conversation, but his dad said, “I’m hungry.”
“Great,” Dawson said, narrowing his gaze and focusing on Clara, hoping she could feel it.
“We can finish looking at this after dinner,” Clara said, rising. “Thanks for sharing it with me, Mrs. Harris.”
“Oh, call me Nadine.” His mom patted Clara’s arm. “You sit by Dawson.” She looked at him and winked.
Dawson was floored. He was thrilled, no question, but he almost wondered if this was some sort of trap. His parents had never taken to Romy like this.
Clara offered to dish up the casserole onto everyone’s plates. She also said that she’d love to invite everyone over to Dawson’s condo for dinner next week. “It’s only fair that we find a way to thank you for your hospitality tonight.”
“It’s not hospitality,” his mom said. “We’re family.”
Dawson looked from his mom to Clara. Was he in a science fiction Netflix series and he was just about to find out that his mom was a robot? It seemed his mom was now completely over the fact that Dawson would never date Paula Smith. He swallowed his first bite of the casserole. It wasn’t half bad, but it was nothing like Clara’s cooking.
The meal continued, and Dawson noticed Clara seemed to enjoy every bite of her meal. She even complimented his mom on it, which they both laughed about.
“No, really, it’s good,” Clara said.
His mom gave Clara a triumphant smile. Then his mom said, “Dawson tells us you like to read. Apparently you’ve been able to convince him to read a book or two instead of always being on his phone.”
Clara’s cheeks pinked, which Dawson worried about—was she embarrassed by his mom’s comments?
“Well, we’ve read four of the same books so far,” Clara said. “And I just might let Dawson choose the next one, as long as it’s not a law book.”
His mom smiled. “I agree, and I think that it’s nice for Dawson to expand his horizons a little. Did he tell you about my book club?”
“He did, in fact,” Clara said. “It sounds interesting, yet intimidating at the same time.”
“Oh, it’s great fun,” his mom said. “You should come. We’d love to have you. Although it’s for women only. Sorry, Dawson.”
“It doesn’t bother me,” he said, then winked at Clara.
From there, the conversation centered around his mom’s book club, which his mom kept encouraging Clara to attend.
“I’ll think about it,” Clara said at last, after taking a sip of her lemonade. “Since Dawson and I are reading the same books, you could say I’m already in a two-person book club.”
“Oh, what are you reading?” his mom asked.
And the conversation between his mom and Clara continued. Dawson and his dad didn’t really stand a chance, unless they were occasionally asked for their opinions. But all Dawson was really required to do was offer a nod or give an “um-hum” once in a while.
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.
Dawson ran his hands up her back and into her hair. “Say you love me, then.”
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.