“Yeeesss…” she drawled when he didn’t continue. She tried to keep her teasing smile in place, but she had a feeling it was about to be dashed.
She was right.
“I’m sorry I kissed you,” Asher blurted out. He pushed away from the counter and started pacing, running a hand through his hair. “I should never have done that.”
Ow.
“Don’t worry,” Sera said through lips that had gone stiff. “I didn’t have any expectations.” She was shredding the paper towel unconsciously between her fingers. “I’m sorry for asking you to dance. It was inappropriate and you probably didn’t feel you could say no…”
She looked away, desperate to be anywhere but here, reminded of how much she was lacking as a woman. She recalled how she’d clung to Asher during their kiss, and how he’d been forced to gently but firmly disentangle himself from her clutches. Apparently, one kiss from her was enough to send her landlord racing for the hills, if his pained expression were to be believed.
By the open door frame, Silver whined, locked in a death match with the dildo. He’d wrapped his front paws around the dong and had the head in his mouth, while his back legs kangaroo kicked the shaft. I know a certain shithead chef I’d like to see receive that treatment, she thought, momentarily distracted. But thoughts of Blake only sent her mood crashing further. He’d always said she was a lousy lay—a lousy everything, except when it came to pastry. And it seemed he’d been right. Asher had found her kiss repulsive.
Tears burned behind her eyes. She clenched the damp paper towel in her fist, crushing what was left of it. She wished he would just leave. She wished a drink—or several—were still an option for her.
Asher ceased his pacing, his gaze arrested on her face. It must have been showing something of what she felt, because he lurched forward without a hint of his customary grace. Before Sera could react, he was catching her surprised hands in his rough, callused ones. Sera dropped the paper towel as her heart thundered.
“No,” he said. Forcefully. “No.” More gently this time. “Bliss, I don’t know what you are thinking at this moment, but whatever it is was not my intention.”
“I…” She didn’t know how to continue. His intentions, her perceptions, both were in a muddle and she wasn’t sure how to find her way back out. “Asher, I don’t know what to say here…”
“I had no idea I would upset you so much.” His hands tightened around hers. “I knew I shouldn’t… but I couldn’t help myself. I didn’t realize how badly it might affect you. Damn it, I can’t believe I took such advantage!” One hand left hers to spear through his hair again, as if forgetting he’d shorn it short. He looked ready to tear hanks out.
“Advantage?” she ventured. Sera couldn’t fathom what that meant. She’d never met a man who was more of a gentleman than Asher Wolf.
“Yes. It was wrong of me to impose upon your good nature. You were merely fulfilling your friends’ dare by dancing with me, and I had to take it further and ruin everything by kissing you. It was inexcusable.”
“Inexcusable? C’mon, Ash, it wasn’t that bad of a kiss—was it?”
“Because of our respective positions here,” he explained, seeing her befuddled expression. “And no—it wasn’t bad at all, Bliss. In fact”—the hand that still covered hers moved in a caressing gesture that sent streaks of sensation up and down her arm—“it was just the opposite. For me, at least. But I should never have taken such advantage.”
Sera was catching on. “Because you’re my landlord?”
“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-haing and ho-hoing, 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.