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.
