Locking her car doors and warming up the engine, she blew out a breath, received she'd talked things through with herself. She had a new resolve and felt good about it.
But damn, she thought as she revved the gas pedal, none of that newfound resolve is going to keep me from thinking about sitting on Dash's grumpy-ass face.
Chapter Five
Dash
What the fuck is going on with me?
Dash trudged down the street quickly and headed toward his basement apartment.
What had he been thinking, trying to kiss Harper? She had not enjoyed it the first time, judging by the way she marched off. Why had he wanted to do it again?
As he made his way down the street, he passed by the school they'd both attended as kids. Even back then, they couldn't stand each other. Yet she was always around, just on the edge of his peripheral vision, waiting for the chance to get him riled up about one thing or another.
Dash needed to go home and get some rest before his shift that night.
By the time he arrived at his apartment, he was fully engulfed in his obsessive thoughts, giving in to them instead of trying to put that infuriating tiny woman out of his head. He unlocked the temperamental lock by sheer force of will and his meanest face. Sometimes that worked.
He looked around his dwelling, and it was like a slap of reality. He loved his childhood home, but this was not going to work in the long term.
He had no business going around kissing women when he was dwelling in his mom's basement.
He paid rent and then some; his job at Crow Bar and the factory in the suburbs helped support his mom more than adequately. He liked being close to his mom, who was now a widow. He needed to look out for her. But his needs were changing and growing, and he hadn't been paying close enough attention to that part of his life.
He could do better with his life. He had to do better if he wanted to settle down.
Did he want to settle down?
Or was he just all turned upside down from that encounter with Harper?
God, she was exasperating.
He hadn't set out that day to kiss her, but she'd started it, just like she started all of her bullshit. She'd tilted her face up first, hadn't she?
In the bathroom, Dash unbuttoned his shirt in the mirror and saw a couple of red splotches where Harper had thumped him.
The memory of her small fists and how surprisingly strong she was, made his dick hard all over again. Just that tiny amount of physical contact had gotten him all riled up. He didn't want her to hit him, but then a part of him did. Some dark part of him that liked the verbal sparring also kind of dug the idea of her beating his chest, pushing against him. Resisting.
"What the fuck is wrong with you, Dash?"
That was not who he was. He didn't chase after women who didn't want him. He did not and would not ever hold someone against their will.
But another part of him was emerging, and it was time for a reckoning. He had to admit that he liked riling her up, and he liked it when she did the same to him. He enjoyed watching her look at him like he was out of line. He relished the moments when she shouted at him. Insulted him. Beat him.
All of these things together made his dick so hard he could not stand it.
"Fuck me," he growled, unzipping his jeans and pulling out his hard, overheated dick. He stared in the mirror at the marks on his chest, cursed, and pumped himself…wondering how she would react if she knew what he was doing.
Chapter Six
Harper
Sitting with the copy editor and going over his questions was not as bad as Harper had feared. She watched the entire production process alongside the staffers who flowed stories on the page, created graphics, inserted photos, wrote headlines. She even learned a lot of new jargon.
After that, she met briefly with Greg to talk about the possibility of writing a story about the sinkhole on Tenth Street. "I think it's a great opportunity to investigate why the city is so slow to respond to problems in some of the less affluent neighborhoods," she said.
Greg nodded enthusiastically, but there was something behind his eyes that looked sad.
"That would be a great story," he said. "Maybe someday, when the climate around here changes, we'll be able to—"
But Greg never finished that sentence, as he was interrupted by one of the press crew with an urgent question. "Sorry, gotta go," he said, looking nervously at his phone. He told her he'd see her bright and early on Monday and that she'd done a great job on her first day.
Harper had hoped to hash over her day more, but she figured they'd have more time to do that on Monday.
When she gathered up her things to leave, she ran almost headlong into the news desk receptionist. "Have you seen Greg?" he asked. "The mayor's office is on the phone."
Harper nodded. "Yeah, I think he had something urgent in the press room."
The receptionist frowned. "Well, he has a call with the mayor's office scheduled, and he's boiling about something."
Harper had a sixth sense at that moment that maybe Greg had been trying to avoid speaking to the mayor's office for some reason. "Oh," she said. "Uh, send it to my desk; I'll take the call."
Maybe I can get a quick quote from the mayor about the sinkhole situation, she thought.
The receptionist, who looked like he just wanted to get out of there and go home, shrugged and transferred the call.
"Who is this?" The gruff man on
