For the rest of her high school career, Sera had been known as The Ball Buster, and true to Robbie’s prediction, no one had asked her out. She had, however, delighted her girlfriends with buckets of delicious, perfectly formed caramels.
She had also developed a lifelong aversion to sex toys.
Just then, Sera’s iPod took it upon itself to start playing Billy Idol’s “Dancing with Myself,” jolting her back to the present—the store, Santa Fe, the fact that she was twenty-nine years old and no longer thought Betsey Johnson the height of fashion. It was a good feeling. Hell, it was the best feeling ever. That’s not me anymore, she reminded herself. I’m sober, I’m strong, and no asshole guy’s ever going to intimidate me like that again.
Ba-dadadadada-DA-da…
The old familiar guitar riff spiked her adrenaline. Damn straight. I’m a woman of substance, about to be a small business owner. And Robbie Markham is probably fat, bald, and addicted to Cialis.
Without volition, Sera’s head started bobbing and her shoulders started wiggling. As she rose to her feet, her toes tapped in the scuffed combat boots she’d worn for cleaning today—grandchildren to her old high school clompers. She started humming along with the lyrics.
“When there’s nothing to lose, and there’s nothing to prove…,” crooned Billy.
Nothing to lose, indeed. But perhaps quite a lot to prove.
“Fuck it,” she growled.
Sera grabbed the nearest dildo—a massive, fleshy pink dong studded with what she assumed were pleasure nubs, though they looked more like alien warts. She cranked up the volume on her iPod as high as it would go and started belting out the words to the song.
Using the wiener as a microphone.
“Oh, oh, oh, oh!” she yelled along with Billy, making a brat-punk face. And again, “Oh, oh, oh, oh!”
And suddenly Serafina was dancing. With herself.
The shop’s newly cleared floorboards served as her stage, and Sera let her freak flag fly. She strutted and whirled, doing her best Billy Idol impression. Lip curclass="underline" check. Head bob: check. Fist pump: oh hell yeah. It was just her, Billy, and the empty store, having a private moment. Sera’s chin-length hair flew about her sweat-dampened cheeks as she rocked out with her cock out. Dust rose in little puffs around her despite the sweeping she’d done, and the sun, breaking out from behind the clouds, speared in through the front window, giving Sera her own personal spotlight.
She shimmied her shoulders, raised her fists, and pumped her arms above her head until she was sweating as her Idol commanded. Billy reached the chorus, rasping and growling into her ears, reminding Sera she didn’t need anyone’s approval; she could meet her own needs. “With my record collection and the mirror’s reflection…,” she howled into the dong.
At the mention of mirrors, Sera’s glance caught the one along Pauline’s back wall. She strutted over to it, channeling Billy’s mojo, wailing the words of his hit into her improvised mike.
Its reflection, however, showed she was not dancing with herself. She was performing for an audience of two.
Or at least, one human, and one very curious puppy.
Asher and Silver were arrested just inside her doorjamb, both sets of eyes wide, both jaws unhinged.
“Ahhhhhhhh!” Sera screamed as she spun to face Asher. The dildo, sweat-slicked from her impromptu performance, slipped the bonds of her surprise-slackened fingers and went sailing across the store.
Smacking her landlord—bull’s-eye!—right in the chest.
Chapter Fourteen
Plunk! With a rubbery plop, the dong bounced off Asher’s pecs and landed on the floor. Silver—who seemed to have grown at least six inches since last she’d seen him—growled and pounced on it with delighted fury, grabbing it in his tiny teeth and gnawing for all he was worth. His husky head shook happily as he did his doggy damnedest to subdue his prey.
Sera yanked out her ear buds and came to a crashing halt in the middle of the store. Her hands flew to her lips in horror. Of all the ways she’d envisioned her next encounter with Asher Wolf occurring, this hadn’t even made the top five hundred.
“Don’t stop on my account,” Asher said mildly.
“Jesus, Asher,” she swore, “don’t sneak up on a girl like that!” Her cheeks bloomed with color, as they seemed so wont to do in his presence. She slunk over to where Silver was enjoying his unexpected snack. “C’mere, boy, drop the weenie,” she cajoled, but the pup was having none of it. He growled again and bared his teeth around his prize, backing up behind Asher to ward off her incursion.
Sera gave it up as a bad job. No way was she going to have a tug of war over a wiener with a half-pint puppy in front of her gorgeous—and too damn kissable—landlord. She pushed her unruly hair out of her eyes and dared a look up at Ash. He appeared to be biting his lip to keep from cracking up. An answering grin snuck up on her own lips. “Aw, shaddup,” she said finally, though he hadn’t spoken. “Let’s just pretend you never saw that, okay?”
“I’m not sure I can ever forget such an… impassioned… performance, Bliss,” he said, crossing his arms as though to keep the chuckles contained within his chest, “but I’ll do my best to keep it to myself.”
“Fair enough. You want something to drink?” she offered, heading behind the counter to give herself some space and let her blush die down. Her heart was hammering, and it wasn’t just from dancing. She felt giddy and awkward at the same time; less embarrassed about the performance Asher had just witnessed than the kiss on Friday that had sent him fleeing into the night. Still, on the whole, she had to admit she was glad to see him. “I’ve only got bottled water, unless you’re into Big Mama…”
She had to smile at his quick, alarmed shake of the head. He was hatless today, his old-gold hair cropped closer than it had been last week, very butch. Her fingers itched to test the fuzz on the back of his neck, feel the rough/smooth texture of that buzzed cut. “I’m fine, thank you, Bliss,” he said, crossing the room to stand closer. Only the mahogany cabinetry kept them apart, and he narrowed the distance by leaning his hip cozily against it. Lucky cabinet, Sera thought.
“I’d offer you a seat, but I’m afraid they’re all taken,” Sera apologized, gesturing at the armchairs that were occupied with the boxes and bags she’d packed up. She grabbed a bottle of water and guzzled to cool herself down, wetting a paper towel and running it across her cheeks to calm the fires raging there.
“No problem. I shouldn’t stay long in any case,” said Ash. “I’ve got a special order to finish for a customer who’s coming by this afternoon.”
“Oh,” she said, trying to keep the disappointment from her voice. She leaned her elbows on the worn countertop. His mirth at her Billy Idol imitation notwithstanding, she could tell Asher was uncomfortable with her today. He wasn’t meeting her eyes the way he used to. And she had no doubt about the cause. No way am I bringing up our kiss. Or his freaked-out reaction. Let him stew over it, she thought. I’ve got nothing to apologize for.
Apparently, Asher felt he did. “Bliss…” he began. Like a sudden storm cloud obscuring the sun, his expression grew somber, the light fading from his eyes. He looked harsher, older. He also looked more awkward than she’d ever seen him. Sera’s stomach clenched.