Harper nodded and smiled through gritted teeth. "Love you guys. Learn how to text, please."
Before exiting together, Lora saluted, and Desiree called out, "Go get 'em, tiger!"
Harper rolled her eyes but could not help but smile to herself. She understood they were proud. Harper just wished they wouldn't pop in unannounced like that. Lora had a way of tracking her down no matter where she was, like a sixth sense. Desiree was just a ball of love and joy and enthusiasm. Harper could not have asked to have been raised by two better humans. Only sometimes…they were a lot.
Back typing away at her keyboard, Harper was about halfway through checking and double-checking her quotes when she sensed yet another presence stop short while walking by her.
Harper looked up to see an imposing man in black and a clerical collar, accompanied by that bouncer Levi's grandmother.
"Hello, dear!"
"Hi, Mrs. Spanos."
The woman smiled broadly. "I heard about your new job. Congratulations!"
Newcastle might be a big city, but the Dockside neighborhood was like a small town. If that small town was full of gangsters, biker clubs, dive bars, and a booming black market economy.
"Thank you, Mrs. Spanos."
The grandmotherly woman clapped her hands together. "Oh, I'm so excited we have someone working for that newspaper now. Now, maybe someone will find some answers about that missing girl."
Harper's stomach lurched. "Not on my first day, but maybe soon."
The older woman replied, "Well, you could always ask your friend, Dashing Dash, to keep an eye out for any dirty dealings going on at that bar. Lord, I wish my grandson would hurry up and get himself out of that job."
Harper knew what she meant but had no clue why the woman was bringing up Dash Fitzgerald—or referring to him as dashing. Dashing was not quite the word Harper would use. Annoying, brusque, impulsive, and, now, lacking boundaries. But dashing? Never.
"Now, now. You're just trying to get a reaction out of me, Mrs. Spanos."
"Maybe I am," Mrs. Spanos said, winking.
What was that wink about, Harper wondered. Could the woman, like, smell the scent of that kiss on her? That could not be the reason she was winking.
Harper worked hard to keep the irritation out of her tone, but Fr. O'Brien picked up the vibe. He was good at that.
"We'll talk later, dear. It's been some time since we've seen you at Mass. Maybe we'll speak on Sunday?" he interjected.
Harper cocked her head and smiled up at the middle-aged priest. "Well, you see me every day when I go home since you live across the street. Most people around here would say that's about all they can take of me."
"I'm sure that's not the case," he replied. "I also see you shoveling the snow and salting the ice on my walkway in the middle of the night, so that'll earn you ten fewer Hail Marys next time you come to confession."
Harper blushed. "I didn't think you'd seen that."
The priest rested a hand on her shoulder. "The Lord sees everything, even what's done in secret."
Harper hadn't always liked Fr. O'Brien. They disagreed on a lot of things. But he did a lot of nice things for people in Dockside, and he cared a hell of a lot. Harper fully came around on him when Fr. O'Brien went rogue and low-key married Lora and Desiree the year that same-sex marriages became legal. The diocese had censured him but ultimately did not defrock him because he had performed it without his clerical collar, and it was a civil ceremony.
"That sounds ominous," Harper said.
"Have you ever heard the phrase, don't let the right hand know what the left hand is doing?"
Harper nodded.
"A lot of people don't see the real you, Harper Ross. But God does."
Harper raised her eyebrows and nodded, sipping her coffee. "God creeping on my page? Kinda stalkery."
The priest leaned down and spoke in a low voice, "And She told me to tell you, She's very proud."
He patted her shoulder and then, mercifully, shuffled Mrs. Spanos away.
Fuck me; this was a terrible place to try to file a story.
She finished the story in just under an hour, as she'd promised Greg.
Harper didn't enjoy sitting for too long. She'd been inside that diner for about an hour, and she needed to walk.
Even in cold, dark, miserable February, she would much rather walk the neighborhood than drive her car.
Besides, she needed to think, and she did her best thinking while walking. She had plans to head back to the newspaper office this afternoon to review her story with the copy editor and be available for questions.
Inevitably, her mind wandered back to the kiss.
What was that all about? What had he been thinking? It was so weird. Nice, though. Wasn't it? He was a shockingly good kisser for such a hotheaded sourpuss.
And then, less than one block up from Cherry's, she walked right into Dash, nearly knocked him over when she wasn't looking up, having been gazing at the cracks in the sidewalk as she marched along.
She gasped. "You again. Are you stalking me or something?"
"It's my neighborhood too. I'm taking a walk. Sorry, you got the wrong impression," he replied.
Harper felt skeptical. "You're just out for a stroll in the middle of February in below-freezing weather?"
He narrowed his eyes. Why did he always look at her like that? "It's not that bad."
Laying on the sarcasm, Harper said, "Sure. You're right. It's lovely. I don't know why we don't have more outside dining options."
Dash shook his head in wonder. "Why are you like this?"
"Because I feel like you're following me and not owning up to it," she said.
Finally, she'd pushed his button enough times that he reacted, "Maybe I have errands to run, and my car isn't working! Do you ever think that maybe the world doesn't revolve around you, Harper?!"
She had not ever, in her life, been accused of thinking the world revolved around her. Self-centeredness was the antithesis of Harper Ross. She was riddled with worry about her city, her community, the
