Bliss (15 page)

But oh, yes, they intended to make a big stink. “Dare! Dare! Dare!” they chanted.

Sera covered her eyes, envisioning being stripped naked and chained to a giant Maypole-sized dildo in the center of the town square. “Have mercy,” she squeaked. “Or… or I swear I'm never baking for a single one of you again.”

That gave them pause.

“Okay, guys,” Aruni said in the silence that followed Sera's threat, “let's just make it a little one, for tonight. How about… hm. I don't know. What about flashing your boobs?”

“Too many kids around,” warned Syna. “Including mine. John's just over there with my son Jimmy”—she pointed across the plaza to where a sandy-haired man was herding a towheaded ten-year-old over toward a carnival booth, “and nice as your rack is, hon, I don't want him catching an eyeful before he graduates college.”

“Thank God,” breathed Sera. There was no way in hell she was letting any nip slip tonight, dare or no dare.

“Anyhow, no offense, 'Runi, but how'n heck's that supposed to help her with her little hiccup?” Janice wanted to know.

Yeah, how?
Sera thought.
I'm already about as mortified as a woman can get.

But she was wrong.

“I've got it!” Syna beamed. “Something wholesome
and
helpful.”

“Dish it, Syna!” All eyes were on the curvy redheaded mom, eager for her answer. She did not disappoint.

“This one's perfect. It'll help her boost her confidence, and also practice letting loose, but it's not, like, dirty or anything.”

“Spill it, sister. We're dying here,” snickered Crystal, cracking her tattoo-covered knuckles.

Syna rose to her feet, her cheeks rosy with merriment. She swooped down and grabbed Sera's hands, tugging her to stand by her side.

“Serafina Wilde,” said Syna September, “I dare you… to go ask a guy to dance!”

“Nice!” crowed Crystal.

“Sweet, but
could
be sexy,” mused River Wind.

“I still say it's not as good as a flash,” Aruni grumbled, “but whatevs. You'll have fun.”

“Who do you think you'll pick?” Bobbie wanted to know.

“It has to be someone hot,” Syna qualified. “No asking some Grandpa Magoo if he wants to cut a rug.”

“Yeah,” Janice agreed. “Definitely got t' grab yourself a stud, hon. But don't worry. From what I can see, there's dozens of guys finer'n frog's hair to choose from tonight. Maybe hundreds!”

There were, indeed, scores of eligible fellows out on the plaza that night. But there was only one man for Serafina.

“Would you like to dance?”

Fuck, fuck, I can't believe they got me to do this. What if he says no? What if… God help me, what if he says yes?

Asher appeared to consider it.

Sera fought the urge to scuff her toe in the dirt. She was already blushing like a nun at a burlesque show, simply standing here in the shadow of the wolf's wide, dreamy shoulders. She'd caught up with him just as he was leaving his mariachi friends, starting to thread his way through the crowd toward she knew not where—or whom. Perhaps a lady friend?
Well, I've put a kink in his romantic plans in that case,
Sera thought.
Or maybe just thrown him a curveball?
Sera was acutely aware of the Back Room Babes' stares from the square behind her, but it was Asher's green gaze that skewered her now. He seemed to be taking her request with rather intimidating deliberation.
Wondering whether I'll start stalking him if he throws me a bone? Or just worrying for the safety of his toes? C'mon, hot stuff, don't leave me hanging,
she silently urged.

“Yes, Bliss. I believe I
would
like that,” he said at length. “Very much.”

“Have you been drinking?”

Sera's hand flew to her mouth. “I can't believe I just said that,” she gasped.

Asher's eyes crinkled at the corners, half-amused, half-puzzled. “Not yet,” he said easily enough. “The lines for the beer stands are prohibitively long. Why, am I going to need something to fortify me? You're not wearing combat boots,” he said, scanning his way down her figure until his gaze rested on her soft, slouchy boots, “so I think I am safe to accept your kind offer.”

“Oh! Well, you know, the girls made me do it. Ask you, that is. I mean, I wouldn't have presumed… not that I wouldn't want to dance with you, but…”

Sera stumbled to a halt. “Damn it, let me start again.” She risked a glance up at his face. Asher was trying to maintain a politely inquisitive expression, and failing. A grin etched its way across his mobile features, his eyes alight with curiosity, their green reflecting the fiesta
luminarias
in ways that set her heart—and her libido—hammering. “What I mean is, the Back Room Babes challenged me to ask a cute guy to dance, and, well, you were the cutest one I saw.”
Can't believe I said that. Can't believe I said that! But hell, it's true, isn't it? And he's gotta know he's the hottest thing since Zozobra went kablooey.

“Oh, well, in that case, I could hardly refuse.” Asher's grin grew. “And, Bliss, as far as ‘cute' goes…” He gave her another, warmer once-over, then stopped abruptly.

Sera held her breath. Was her Asher-ometer on the fritz, or did he appear suddenly uncomfortable? Did he think she was hideous? Was he some sort of George Washington I-cannot-tell-a-lie type who tripped over a harmless little social fib? But no, she wasn't getting that impression. Though his hat kept his expression partially shaded, she sensed Asher's problem wasn't with returning her compliment; it was with bantering flirtatiously at all. It was as though this expression of purely masculine appreciation were taboo—or if not taboo, at least extremely rusty.

At that moment, the band began to play a ballad—a very
romantic
ballad. On the stage, the fiesta dancers took a break, and a middle-aged gentleman with a barrel chest and a seamed, florid face took their place, backed by several musicians. He began to croon in Spanish, and Sera thought she recognized an old Gypsy Kings song. The crowd hushed to hear his mellifluous baritone, and couples began to stream to the area reserved for dancing in front of the stage. Asher doffed his hat, tossing it with a nod of thanks to one of the friends still sitting under the portico. He shook his head in an effort—only partly successful—to erase the impression the hat had left on his burnished gold hair. “Come, Bliss,” he said, holding out his hand. “Let's join them.”

Before she knew it, Sera was swept into the whirl.

And by damn, she was determined to enjoy it.

From her awkward teen years on, she'd hated dancing. Never once had she been able to relax and let a boy lead. She always second-guessed what the guy was going to do, worried he'd send her crashing into other couples or dump her ass-first during a dip. Worse, she dreaded disgracing herself with her own clumsy, unsure moves. Because of it, she was lucky if the worst that happened was zigging when she should have zagged, and rarely was she asked twice by the same guy. Which was fine with Sera. Dancing made her so tense, standing by the sidelines was preferable by far. Even alone, unless she was dead drunk, she'd had trouble letting go and allowing the music to move through her.

Not tonight.

Tonight, Sera vowed, she would be free. She owed it to herself to take in everything this one-of-a-kind festival—and one-of-a-kind guy—had to offer. No more would she paint herself the wallflower. Years of reticence, decades of self-consciousness—they'd all have to take a vacation. She. Would. Not. Miss. This. Moment.

Hear that, brain?
she taunted.
You're not going to spoil tonight for me!

And it didn't.

Her feet began to feel light, her head lighter, and her heart lightest of all, expanding with the sensation of being utterly, one hundred percent present in the moment. And what a moment it was. With the scents, sights, and sounds of Fiesta curling around her, Sera felt wrapped in a borrowed confidence she wasn't sure she'd ever give back. Was this what serenity felt like? She'd certainly said enough prayers for it over the past year. Her shoulders relaxed, her body took the lead, and her mind felt free to take it all in, marveling from the sidelines without trying to control. She twirled, glided, and swayed as if she'd been born to dance.

It wasn't Asher's doing, though he
was
a masterful dancer. He eased her through the throng with assurance, shielding and guiding Sera with instinctive courtesy as they melded with the others on the plaza. He had moves, too—no awkward high school boy, he. His arm was assured around her back, and his hand, callused and strong where it cupped hers, applied just the right amount of pressure to connect and direct them without overwhelming her. And his hips…
oh, man.
When Asher swiveled in time to the music, Sera had to force herself not to ogle their effortless roll and swing, imagining what
else
he might do with hips like those.

But delicious as he was, it wasn't her partner who made this dance perfect. Something had changed within Sera herself. She could feel the difference. It was like… well, it was like the feeling she'd had sometimes when she was drinking. That loosening of anxiety in the chest after the first swig went down, that feeling of “I can face anything.” That social ease others seemed born with, but which she'd always lacked a full measure of, and lost even more after her parents' deaths. She felt as though she had found the elusive switch that could flip her feeling of being “less-than” off. From the moment the Back Room Babes had issued their dare, she'd known she was going to take it. Take it, and make the most of it. To do anything less would be to dishonor the kindness life was throwing her way. She'd had enough tough times in her past to know she'd better savor the good ones.
No matter what else happens from here on,
she thought,
tonight I am a lucky woman.

And, perhaps, about to get a bit luckier.

As the song wound down and the singer began another ballad, Sera drifted back to earth, glancing up at Asher. He didn't seem inclined to end their dance just yet. In fact, if she had to guess, he seemed to be enjoying it more than a little himself. His face had relaxed, his shoulders loose but his arms strong around her. While the song segued, he tucked her a bit tighter to him and turned them gracefully, leading them to a spot on the edge of the crowd where they had a bit more room to move. Almost as one, they took a breath of the fiesta-scented autumn air. Again, his eyes took her in from head to toe. His focus had sharpened.

“That is a lovely color on you, Bliss,” he complimented. His voice seemed a notch deeper than normal.

“This old thing?” Sera blushed, glancing down at the azure tunic she wore. She was suddenly glad she'd made an effort to dress up a little tonight. She spent so much time in chef's pants and flour-coated clogs, it was hard to remember the rest of the world tended to put in a bit more effort. Plus, after Blake, she'd had zero interest in attracting attention from the opposite sex, so her out-of-kitchen uniform of shapeless tees and battered jeans had suited her just fine. But tonight…

“Thanks, Asher,” she said, just above a whisper. His regard was suddenly so overwhelming, she could barely remember to keep her feet shuffling along to the music. The air in the small space between them felt hot as one of her ovens, in contrast to the cool September breeze teasing her hair and fanning her flushed cheeks.

“I noticed you are wearing my earrings,” he went on. His hand left the middle of her back to brush her lobe with exquisite gentleness, eliciting a shiver Sera prayed he wouldn't notice. “I hope it's not arrogant to say they suit you very well.” His palm reclaimed its place at her waist… then slid just a touch lower, heating the small of her back through the silky fabric.

“N-No, not arrogant at all,” she stuttered. Her breath didn't know whether it was coming or going, but her earlier serenity had definitely taken a hike. “You're very kind. I love them. I'm so glad I had an occasion to wear them tonight.” Was it her imagination, or was her sexy landlord
flirting
with her? Just a little bit?

For the first time since they'd met, Asher's attention felt fully engaged, the distance he usually reserved for himself somehow breached. And the expression she read in his eyes as she dared another glance up…
wow.
It was as though he'd turned the light on behind those eyes, withdrawn the curtain veiling them. In that gaze, she read so much—almost
too
much. A soul that could contain great mischief, but also deep, deep sorrow. Intelligence, perception, and kindness; an acceptance of others' foibles even as he strove for perfection in himself. And a wound that had shattered him, utterly shattered him, somewhere at the heart of it.

It was like looking into the essence of a great symphony, all the elements of passion, playfulness, and exultation commingling. Sera stumbled to a halt, her feet no longer obeying the music, drowned out by what she saw in Asher's expression.

He came to a stop with her, but his arms kept their clasp about her body.

“I think…” A look not unlike consternation crossed Asher's face. He stared down at her, unwontedly solemn. “I think I would like to kiss you, Bliss. Would you… also like that?”

Would I like that? Would I
like
that?

“There's only one way to find out,” she found herself saying with far, far more sassiness than she'd expected to be able to muster in a moment like this.

But Asher didn't smile. As momentous as this occasion felt to Sera—she hadn't kissed or wanted to kiss anyone since Blake had shattered her confidence (she had, in fact, never had more than a casual coffee date since getting sober)—it appeared to be even more fraught for Ash. His hand gently cupped her face. Sera registered its rough texture, its control and exquisite sensitivity. Its…
trembling?
His thumb traced her bottom lip, and Sera found herself trembling as well, her lips parting in anticipation.
When is it going to happen?
Is
it going to happen? Oh, my God, it's about to happen…