by Abby Knox
He listened as she chatted animatedly with the guide about her moms' distillery business, about the access to the tunnels below the building that they were shoring up. Dash learned more in that conversation, floating on the river in 45-degree weather, underneath River Drive, than he'd ever learned in any history class in school.
He suddenly had a strange feeling of inadequacy while listening to her talk. He could never hold up his end of a conversation about most of the things Harper had expert knowledge about. Not just history and local politics, but life in general. Next to her, he felt like a blank slate. What right did he have to claim her as his girlfriend?
The dark thoughts descended deeper until their hooks wedged in so deeply, Dash felt the weight of them pressing down, holding him in place.
Chapter Twelve
Harper
* * *
They grabbed lunch together at a burrito place on the Riverwalk, as it was the cheapest food available.
Harper felt grateful for the spicy food that warmed her up.
As they ate, they talked about the little adventure they'd just shared.
"Thank you for not making fun of me when I nerded out about the tunnels."
He looked down at her in that confused, surly way. "If I ever mocked a thing you're passionate about before, I'm sorry. I'm hardly able to hold a candle to your smarts."
She smiled while she swallowed down a delicious bite of burrito. "Thank you. But what do you mean about not feeling smart next to me?"
Dash looked out the window. "Just that. I don't know if I can keep up with you. Like, you care about everything, and I care about…almost nothing except my tiny little world."
Harper followed Dash's gaze out the window and thought it would have been good to have this conversation before they decided to become an exclusive couple, but there they were. She folded her hands on the table. "Okay. Tell me who and what is in this tiny world of yours."
Dash shrugged. "You. My friends. My two jobs. My mom. That's it. I…think you're going to get bored of me at some point."
She smirked and, trying to lighten the mood, joked, "You're great at tree climbing."
He made a dismissive sound and looked back at Harper. "Next, you're going to remind me I'm good at fighting."
She grinned. "It's an asset that you can kick someone's ass for me."
She laughed at her jokes, but the humor quickly evaporated when she saw the look on his face. "Dash, come on. Are you serious?"
He said nothing and refused to meet her eyes.
"All right, if that's how you're going to be, then I'll start. You have a steel-trap memory. You remember every face of every person who has ever caused trouble at that bar, and you know exactly how to behave in an emergency. You always make sure the female customers make it to their cars safely. Your mother adores you, and you take good care of her. You're vigilant, alert, passionate about your inner circle, and you're funny. Most of all, you have a kind heart, and that's all that matters to me."
By then, Dash was staring back at her with that intense gaze that used to put her off. At that moment, it made the rest of the world and all of its struggles disappear.
"It's not enough."
Harper felt her heart begin to break.
"You are enough. If you think you're not, then don't you see that's insulting to me? Do you think I would make the wrong choice here? So help me god, if you break up with me less than 12 hours into this relationship, I'm going to haunt your fucking nightscapes, Fitzgerald."
Finally, his face broke into a smile, and he laughed.
"And you make amazing pancakes. So you can cook. Good god, it's a good thing I snatched you up. I'll bet Levi's grandmother has a waiting list of prospective wives if I fall through."
The moment that the meaning of her words hit her, she panicked. "Oh, god. I didn't mean…"
Dash reassured her by giving her a wink that nearly melted her jeans right off her body.
"My girlfriend doesn't need to worry about scaring me away," he said.
Harper's smile brightened. She couldn't help herself; she hadn't smiled this much or this goofily in years.
Dash eyed her suspiciously from the other side of the booth. "What's wrong?"
Harper nearly choked on a slice of jalapeño. When she recovered, she remarked, "Only Dash Fitzgerald would ask what was wrong when someone smiled."
He lifted one shoulder to shrug off her wise-ass comment, but Harper could see a hint of a curve at the corner of his lips. "Fine. What's right then?" He picked up a chip and used it to shovel a generous amount of guacamole into his mouth.
"I'm on a day date with my boyfriend. I'm eating burritos for lunch…with my boyfriend. My boyfriend is looking at me like I've just sprouted a second head from my neck."
Dash's brow knitted together. "Is that big brain shorting out?"
"No, silly," she replied. "I'm just trying on this concept of having a boyfriend, and I have to say, I like it. It's going to take some getting used to. I like hanging out with you without anyone else around. And not trading barbs."
He munched and looked thoughtful for a moment or two. "So you don't like hanging out when I'm with my friends?"
She blinked. "Where did that come from?"
"Admit it."
Harper thought carefully about her response. "Do you like your friends? Because sometimes it looks to me like they make you nuts."
"They are a little annoying sometimes, but they're my crew. We got each other's backs."
"So I've heard. And I do like them, individually. Together, sometimes, you guys are…a lot," she said.
"Well, listen. We all grew up in Dockside, and we've all been through some shit. We all knew each other before Mavis hired us, but then after working together, it became more like a brotherhood."
"Billy sucks, though. I'm sorry, but it's true."
Dash laughed. "Not going to lie, he pushes my buttons. But he's a good one to have on your side. Believe me."
Harper shrugged. "Can he just…calm down and stop antagonizing people?"
Dash thought about this and took another huge bite of a burrito, then answered, "He had a shitty childhood. Nobody had it easy, but his was the shittiest. No, he doesn't have to be such an asshole, but…I don't know. He's our boy. Yeah, he's got a big mouth and enjoys pissing people off, but…he's on the side of good."
Having finished her food, Harper wiped down the table around her tray. "He once signed a petition with the words, 'Hoo Cares.'"
Dash lifted his eyes to the ceiling as if searching his memories. "Oh yeah. Let me guess; that was the one about saving the barn owl colony that had taken over the abandoned factory?"
Harper cocked her head. "Yeah, that would be the one."
Dash then did something Harper had never seen him do before. He reached across the table and took Harper's hands in his. His long, calloused fingers felt warm around her cold ones. He squeezed them and a soft wave of happiness echoed across her skin. "Holden and I will talk to Billy about being more respectful. Now that Mavis is gone, Holden is the only one who can keep that kid under control. And if he ever pulls any crap with you again, I'll pound him into the ground."
Harper shook her head. "Please, no more violence. Pound nails. Pound sand. Pound shots of whiskey if you must. But please, no more fighting with him."
He raised an eyebrow. "I'll have to find other outlets for my irritability. Maybe Holden can spot me a membership at Pounder's Gym."
She rolled her eyes. "What a name." Turning her wrist, so Dash's hand was on top of hers, she ran her thumb slowly along his pinky finger. "Maybe you and I should just pound each other."
Dash lowered his chin. "Whoa."
Harper eyed him lustfully. "Just sayin'."
"Are we doing this? Are we dirty talkin' right here in the restaurant?"
Underneath the table, Harper's feet found Dash's. She wrapped her legs around one of his shins, as his legs were so long that his knees reached across the halfway point.
/> "Why, you chicken?"
"Make that rooster."
"Cock-a-doodle-doo," she replied.
Dash laughed. "Keep it up, sweetheart. The cock is gonna doodle you good and hard."
Harper smiled as she felt the heat rush across her middle. "That cock can't handle this doodle."
"Wait, let's define what the doodle is?"
"This is super hot," she said sarcastically.
"It's not working because we're surrounded by pictures of anthropomorphized burritos."
She sat back in the booth. "Big word, Lynwood."
"I read books, you know."
"I didn't know. How could I know?"
"There you go again, making assumptions about my intelligence."
Harper eyed him and detected the glint in his eye. She realized what was happening here. He was baiting her.
She grinned. "If you had an ounce of brain matter between your ears, you would have known I was ready ten minutes ago for you to bring me home and doodle my doo until I pass out. But since you don't…"
"Oh," he said. "It's on. We're leaving."
With that, Dash stood and cleared their empty trays, papers, cups, and napkins with two swipes of his enormous hands. Excited, Harper slid out of the booth and zipped up her coat.
She could not wait to see what would happen next.
Harper's clothes lay in a heap on the chair while she waited for Dash, who was undressing slowly.
"Come on," she pressed. "Get with the program."
With a glowering look, he slid his belt out of his jeans even slower. "I'm enjoying two things right now. The discomfort of this hard-on, and the sight of you, on the bed, naked, and frustrated."
"God, you're infuriating," Harper said.
Dash laughed softly like an evil villain, which pissed her off even more. "Fine," she breathed, splaying herself out on the bed and spreading her legs. She heard him unzip while her fingers dipped between her damp lips.
"Fuck that noise," Dash blurted. His jeans hit the floor, and in the next second, her bedsprings creaked under the weight of him.
Her body was no longer under her control but was being lifted by his strong arms. She was off the bed and in his lap, straddling a naked Dash.
She smiled. "Gotcha to speed things up. Why do you gotta torture yourself?"
Dash answered her with a teasing kiss as he nipped her bottom lip, then her top. "It makes the ending that much better."
Harper smiled. "I like happy endings."
She shivered in excitement as his hands traveled up her sides, over her back, and back down to her ass, nudging her closer. "I like this position," he said. "We can see eye to eye, and I don't have to bend down to kiss you."
Running her tongue across his lips, she clarified, "You like me being on top."
His laugh vibrated through her breasts, and she rolled her pelvis against his hard-on.
"I don't hate it," he admitted.
He slipped his cock into her and let Harper take in the full length of him little by little until she was fully seated.
The closeness of this position caught her completely off guard. Between deep, sensual kisses, they watched each other as they ground against each other.
"This way feels so different," she said, acknowledging Dash's intense stare as she began a rhythmic slide up and down on his dick.
"Fuck, that's so good."
She kissed her way down his throat and sucked at the spot where his tendons stuck out as he strained underneath her. When she nibbled, she felt his dick grow inside her. Then, she remembered something.
"Do you want to show me how to do that thing?" She ran her fingers tenderly over his throat.
"Holy shit. Yes. If you remember what I showed you before?"
She nodded.
"Do that when I'm about to come."
Surprising both of them, she found his body's response to that move so erotic, she came just by watching him.
As for Dash, he looked as if he'd just won the lottery.
Chapter Thirteen
Dash
* * *
Not Billy, not the usual miscreants, and not the Satan's Minions Motorcycle Club could get on Dash's nerves tonight.
Harper's scent filled his nostrils as he moved around Crow Bar, watching over the regular customers, keeping a close eye on the newbies, and keeping track of the usual troublemakers' activities. And there were always troublemakers.
The feminine, gingery scent combined with the memory of the last 24 hours made his dick hard all over again, even as Dash did his job. But he didn't mind. He didn't even feel frustrated. All he felt was happy.
"What the fuck happened to you?"
Dash looked over to see Billy smirking at him from across the bar. The place was noisy as it always was on a Saturday night. But the mandated headsets, which had irked Dash just the day before, were not bothering him at all tonight.
Remarkable what an attitude shift could occur in 24 hours. The bouncers might now look like a misplaced boutique hotel work crew, but they were taking full advantage of the opportunity to share dirty jokes from across the noisy and crowded bar.
That night, Billy handled the door; Dash eyed the pool tables. The bikers were back and hogging the billiard room as usual. They'd been there over an hour; Dash was going to give them ten more minutes, and then it was time to go. "I had a good day; why do you ask?"
"Cause you look like Goofy with a surfer's hair, that's why."
"You paint quite a picture, Billy."
"Why don't you just tell me why you look like an eight-foot-tall cartoon with a dumbass smile on your face?"
One of the Satan's Minions had waylayed the barmaid, Honey. And Dash was trying to read lips and listen to Billy at the same time.
"Maybe it's my birthday today. Maybe I'm just happy. Can a guy be happy without the third degree from Billy Sullivan?"
Bruise, the notorious leader of the motorcycle gang, held court at the pool tables again while a group of customers waited patiently for their turn. Meanwhile, Honey was trying to get away from the second in command so she could fill their drink orders. On the one hand, he wished Declan would ban those guys permanently. On the other hand, they spent more money on beer in one night than all the rest of the customers brought in an entire week.
Billy cackled in Dash's ear. "You got laid. Hey guys, check it out. Mister Sourpuss got himself some pussy."
"Fuck off, Billy," Dash muttered into the mic of his headset.
"Sounds like you're the one getting fucked off."
He shook his head. Bruise was getting into a discussion with one of the new customers waiting to use one of the pool tables. "Jealous?" Dash asked.
"So it's true!" exclaimed Ricky. "Who is it?"
"Yeah, who?" Holden asked.
Dash was not about to have a conversation with his friends about Harper over a goddamn headset.
At that point, Declan's voice could be heard on the channel, reminding everyone to pay attention to their jobs and less attention to gossip.
"Thank you, Declan," Dash said.
"Ass kisser," Billy said.
"Asshole," said Dash.
The shit-giving made no difference to Dash, who lifted the collar of his tee-shirt to his nose and took a deep whiff. He didn't care if that looked bonkers to anyone watching.
Declan interrupting their gossip circle turned out to be a good thing in the end because, in the next moment, everything devolved into chaos.
The customer waiting for the pool table had walked up and tapped Bruise on the shoulder. The guy did not know any better than to steer clear; nobody touches Bruise. The guy was temperamental as fuck and likely coked-up beyond belief at the moment.
Dash and Holden were on it, but on it too late before Bruise had the guy's arm twisted behind his back and his head pinned to the brick wall.
It took both bouncers to pry Bruise's forearm off the poor slob's neck. When they pried him free, Bruise spun and swung, his fist missing Holden and landing
a right hook against Dash's nose with a wild grunt.
The pain blinded him for half a second, and he heard Holden shouting. The sound of scuffling and grunting continued around him. Dash tasted copper and felt the warm ooze from his nose. When he shook away the cobwebs from his brain, he felt the bridge of his nose, assessing that Bruise had not broken it.
Levi and Ricky teamed up to eject Bruise from the bar. The rest of the bouncers sequestered customers in the corner as the gang erupted into a tornado of beer-fueled revenge. Someone punched out a window; another one snapped a pool cue. The beer glasses didn't stand a chance.
Before the night was over, Dash's ribs had suffered pelting by flying cue balls, and his hands had suffered splinters from busted sticks.
In the end, though, none of the other customers were hurt, and the guys disarmed several gang members. The police had been called but never showed.
"All the better," Billy said as the crew stayed to clean up afterward. Levi grimaced as he unloaded the ammo from one of the confiscated semiautomatics and tossed it into the safe. "They break the rules by bringing weapons on the premises. So, if we gotta do our own police work, we get to keep the goods."
Declan was too tired to protest the ethical and legal consequences of keeping guns belonging to a notorious biker gang and too busy sweeping up broken glass to offer anything but, "I'm gonna need a bigger crew."
Chapter Fourteen
Harper
* * *
While Harper didn't appreciate being told to stay with her moms that night, Lora and Desiree were over the moon to have their daughter to themselves for the night.
While Lora scurried around the kitchen, assembling personal Margherita pizzas, Desiree chattered about what romcom they should watch that night. On family movie nights growing up, Harper had played a delicate balancing act between her two moms. Desiree enjoyed romcoms, and Lora always wanted to show Harper the latest environmental documentaries. Harper enjoyed both.
"Ugh," Lora said. "We are not watching While You Were Sleeping ever again. It's preposterous."