Hilary Fields - Bliss

“Just so.”

“And you think I felt obligated to—what, put out?—because of that?”

His lean cheeks reddened. “Well…”

Sera burst out laughing.

Really, really hard.

Maybe it was the relief that he hadn’t hated her kiss, but she could not seem to stop ha-ha ing and ho-ho ing, especially when she saw the chagrined expression that spread across his handsome features. Typical macho male.

“Oh, Ash,” she said when she could breathe again. “Don’t worry about it—really, it’s no big thing. And believe me, if your kiss had been unwelcome, I wouldn’t have accepted it— and reciprocated the way I did. I’m a big girl. I’d have made my boundaries clear if you were crossing them. You were a perfect gentleman, every step of the way.”

“You made it hard to be,” Ash admitted. “It was the first time…” He broke off, eyes turning inward. “Anyway, the first time in a very long time that I’ve had such a delightful evening with a woman. I’m glad to know I wasn’t trespassing into inappropriate territory.”

You can trespass like that anytime you like, Sera wanted to say. But she didn’t quite have the gumption.

“So… we’re good?” she asked instead.

“Yes, I believe so,” Asher agreed. He dropped her hands abruptly. He seemed to be scrambling for a neutral topic. “So, ah… was your weekend… pleasant?” He winced a bit, as if aware his segue left something to be desired.

Sera had a moment of schadenfreude at his discomfort. It was such a novelty to be the one not left tongue-tied in their interactions that she took a second to savor it, having a feeling she’d be back to blushing and stuttering before long. “Nice enough,” she allowed. The change of subject was welcome. “I spent a lot of time on the phone, chasing leads about contractors, actually.”

“And did you find one?” Ash asked politely.

“I’m thinking of going with your friend Malcolm. I meant to ask your feelings on the subject, since it’d be your walls he’d be tearing down and your floors he’d be ripping up. It’s the reason I wanted you to come by today.” Not because I wanted another taste of those freakishly delicious lips.

Whatever Asher might have said on the subject was drowned out by a shriek coming from the courtyard.

“Oh my gawd, what is that thing? ” a woman’s nasal voice pierced the still-damp morning air. “It’s growling at me! I think it’s going to attack! Don’t let it near me, Stanley!” Another high-pitched shriek. “What is that in its mouth?!? ”

The absence of puppy in the shop registered with Serafina and Asher simultaneously.

“Silver!”

They ran for the door. Skidding to a halt on the porch beside Ash, Sera took in the scene. Asher’s little husky had cornered a couple of tourists by the fountain, new chew toy firmly wedged in his drooling muzzle. Tail wagging frantically, he was the picture of friendly curiosity. But apparently Stanley and his wife were getting a different impression. The lady, a woman in her early sixties with a weathered face and a lot of black eyeliner and brittle dyed black hair, was visibly trembling and clinging to her husband for support at the sight of Silver, who didn’t come up even as high as the top of her posh leather cowboy boot. Her husband, short and pudgy, with ears as whiskery as the pooch’s, looked closer to fainting than she did.

Not dog lovers then, Sera surmised.

“Mister, is this your animal?” the man—Stanley, it seemed—called out.

Silver shook his little head, sending doggy drool flying.

The woman squeaked and clutched her husband’s arm tighter. Asher started down the porch steps. “I have that honor,” he said lightly. “He won’t harm you.”

Sera snickered. The worst Silver could do to the tourists would be to cover them in puppy slobber. But then, if I were wearing a brand-new full-length hand-embroidered shearling that still had the price tag dangling from it, I might consider that a calamity, too.

Asher stepped forward to defuse the situation. Sera watched admiringly from the porch, resting her elbows on the railing.

Silver, however, wasn’t done playing. As Ash reached to scoop him up and away from the treed tourists, the puppy scooted out of reach, barking around his latex prize and wagging ever more furiously. He glanced back at Asher, inviting pursuit. Asher had no choice but to oblige. Enthralled with the game, Silver took off. Asher broke into a lope, even as Sera broke into a grin. Her landlord’s lean musculature was a pleasure to watch as he dodged and wove in his impromptu rugby match with the husky. She knew she should help him, but really, it was so much fun to watch…

She wasn’t alone in her sentiment, she saw. Across the courtyard, she glimpsed Aruni poke her head out of Tantrastic to see what the yelling was about. The class she was teaching had given up all pretense of maintaining mountain poses or sun salutations or whatever they were doing, crowding the plate-glass window to watch the goings-on. On the placita ’s opposite side, Mr. Yazzie, who ran a sculpture gallery that specialized in fantastical—and fantastically expensive—glassworks, had also emerged, squinting to see what was up. He pulled his baggy maroon cardigan closer around his stocky body, nodding in response to Sera’s friendly wave. Pauline had introduced her to the gallery manager her first week here, and she’d found the older Native American gent very kind and charming, especially when he shyly confessed a penchant for sticky buns. Sera had assured him they’d be on her menu. Now she saw he had a bit of a sense of humor, too. “Five dollars on the puppy,” he called. “Care to match it?”

“I’ve gotta go with the Wolf, George,” she shot back. “And make it ten.”

George gave her a thumbs-up gesture of acknowledgment.

Asher was rounding the fountain again, Silver in the lead, while the tourists yelped and plastered themselves against the porch railing of Asher’s shop. A series of joyous barks erupted from the doghouse, where Sascha and the other pups rested, and the terrified couple squealed and backed away. Sera covered her mouth to keep from giggling.

Silver was barreling toward the placita ’s entrance, and Sera had a moment’s fear he’d get out into the street. He disappeared into the covered archway, Asher steps behind. She heard a yip of doggy dismay, a Scottish-accented “Gotcha!” and then a bark of a laugh. Seconds later, Asher emerged, sans puppy but with a huge grin on his face. Behind him, a red-faced Malcolm McLeod trailed, puppy tucked firmly under one arm and dildo pinched gingerly between two fingers.

The tourists skedaddled the moment the way was clear, muttering about wild, depraved beasts and vowing to go in search of more civilized shopping. The placita ’s front gate clanged pointedly behind them. Aruni and her class gave the dog wranglers deep bows from prayer position, while Mr. Yazzie clapped politely.

“Which one’s yours, lass?” Malcolm asked as he reached Sera’s front porch, hefting both pup and prop.

“Um, neither, really,” she said with a blush. “But I’ll take that one from you,” she said, nodding for the toy.

Malcolm’s mustachios twitched. Sera couldn’t tell whether it was irritation or amusement. “Guess that makes the pooch yer property, Asher my boy,” he said, passing the panting pup to the taller man.

Asher accepted the runt, crossing quickly to deposit him in the doghouse with Sascha and the others. Sera saw Lupe peeking out from one of the shop’s windows, her pouty lips pursed as she caught sight of Serafina. Sera saluted the saleswoman, struggling to keep the snark out of the gesture. Bet Asher never kissed you during a magical evening of dancing under the Fiesta lights, she thought smugly. But then again, maybe he had. Sera had no way of knowing what sort of romantic escapades her landlord got up to on his own time. He might mumble cryptic hints about his lack of recent action, but how could she tell if he was being honest? Blake Austin had once had her convinced of his fidelity, after all. She wasn’t exactly the world’s best judge of character when it came to men.