"Hey."
"Oh hush, I didn't mean anything by it, Lora."
Harper stared at the cards on the table in front of her. She felt it was odd how the cards that looked like they promised good things looked like nightmares. And the ones that bore lovely items such as cups and babies and fruit trees seemed to symbolize terrible events to come.
"I am receptive to different ways of thinking, but that still doesn't mean this whole thing does not throw me with Dash." Turning to her mom, she pleaded, "Mom, come on. You know I love you, and I would not do anything to hurt the family business, right? Maybe it's just time to put all of this bullshit behind us. And also, your great-granddad did pretty much steal that recipe from Fitz, didn't he? Maybe it's time to mend fences."
"They worked on that recipe together. It took years."
"That's not my point. I know it's weird to hear me say this after years of disliking the man, but do you trust me that Dash would never, ever, ever do anything to hurt me, my family, or the business? Yes, he's a pain in the ass, but he's a good human. And he treats me well."
Desiree picked up another card and asked, cocking her head at Harper, "How are the orgasms?"
Both Lora and Harper scoffed. "Oh my god," Lora said, covering her face.
Harper exclaimed, "Really none of your business!"
But Desiree placed the card she had just chosen face up on the table. She examined it, and a satisfied smiled crossed her lips. She looked up at her daughter and said, "Excellent. Your mother and I endorse this match."
Lora peeked out from between her fingers and said, "Can we just go watch a movie now?"
Chapter Fifteen
Dash
By the time everything was cleaned up at Crow Bar, the sun had risen behind the buildings. Dash could hear the noises of activity at the docks as ships left and arrived, their horns echoing off the water.
Dash grabbed a boatload of fast food breakfast before heading back to Harper's house. He liked having someone to text at the end of a shift. He liked texting her at the end of his shift.
He piled all of it on the counter and shot Harper a text to let her know where he was, and then went outside to shovel the crackled ice and slush off her front walk.
Forgetting that Fr. O'Brien lived right across the street, the voice of the priest startled him while he went into a meditative state in his shoveling and cleaning up.
"Very good of you to be looking out for the Ross girl."
Startled, Dash stumbled backward and tugged his earbuds out of his ears. "Father, good morning."
"Didn't mean to scare you, my son. Everything all right? Your nose…"
"Perfect, totally perfect," he said. "A little dust-up at the bar."
Just then, Harper arrived home in her little Toyota and parked it in her now cleared driveway.
"I see you and Miss Harper have been mending fences," Fr. O'Brien remarked, gesturing with his mittened hand to the driveway that Dash had already cleared in a matter of five minutes.
Mending her fence is one phrase for it, he thought.
"Yes," Harper said, slipping one arm around Dash's waist. "He's quite adept with a post-hole digger."
Dash's stomach fell to his feet, and he nearly tumbled into the slush. He felt her hand slip into his back pocket.
Fr. O'Brien seemed unfazed by her odd comment. "Well, you two be sure to let me know as soon as you may require pre-marital counseling. Or…confession."
With that, the priest meandered down the street in his black track pants, continuing his morning stroll to the warming shelter to serve breakfast to the homeless.
They watched him go; Dash waited a minute before turning to Harper. "You did not just say that to my priest."
"He can handle it—oh my god, what happened to you?"
She reached up to touch Dash's nose, but he dodged her hand.
"Let's go inside before the ground opens up and you go straight to hell for telling dirty jokes to a priest."
Harper laughed as they stepped inside. "If I'm going to hell, you're going with me."
The two of them fell into a moment of tender kisses and caresses in the entryway after they removed their coats, hats, mittens, and other winter paraphernalia. Dash grunted as he unwound Harper's bulky scarf and tossed it into a little basket she had set aside for that purpose. "I'll be glad when spring and summer arrive. Fewer layers to take off."
He breathed in her warmth when she nestled into his tight hug. "I missed you," she said.
Nobody had ever spoken those three words to Dash before—not in that context, anyway. The sentiment brought up unfamiliar feelings inside of him. He liked her; he cared for her. Something bigger grew between them, even when they were apart from each other. That bigger thing did not yet have a name, or it could have been that Dash was not yet ready to name it. Or was afraid to name it. Just enjoy the moment, Dash, he told himself. Kissing the top of her head, he breathed her in.
"This is much nicer than wearing your scent on my shirt."
She laughed softly against his chest, rippling a sweet sensation across his skin. "I wanted to come to work with you, but you wouldn't let me."
He growled at that. "Good thing you didn't come to work. Those biker guys started a fight again. We had a huge mess to clean up, or I would have been back here sooner. I wanted to get your front walk and driveway cleaned up before you got home."
She squeezed his middle. "That's so thoughtful of you. I'm sorry you had to deal with a mess. And with a broken nose."
He shrugged. "It's probably not broken. And anyway, I couldn't let Griff and
