Bliss (27 page)

W
ell, well, well.”

The words, uttered in tones of mockery so saturated as to drip disdain, came from the doorway that led to the front of the store.

Sera knew that distinctive blend of derision. She'd endured it day and night for years; had lived and breathed it for the better part of her career. She gasped and pulled back from Asher.

Yup. There he was. Blake Fucking Austin, haunter of nightmares, squasher of livelihoods, eviscerator of egos.

Was it possible to go from passion to projectile puking in one point two seconds? Sera was afraid she was about to find out.

I shouldn't be so shocked,
thought a tiny part of her brain that was in fact very, very shocked.
He's managed to ruin every other moment of happiness in my adult life. Why
shouldn't
he pop up, like the rotten little troll he is, to destroy this one?

“Serafina Wilde,” drawled her nemesis. “And right where I last left you. Spreading yourself like second-rate caviar on a cracker for the kitchen help.” That laugh. That bastard, horsey laugh that scraped her spine like harpy claws. “I can't say I'm surprised. You've quite the penchant for canoodling in kitchens.” He eyed Asher, who had swung around, every muscle tense, to size him up.

Sera tried to see Blake as Ash might see him (rather than with the devil horns and cloven hooves her imagination always supplied). Powerfully built, but with the beginnings of a midlife paunch. Craggy features and thick, slightly oily black hair that waved back from a high forehead to brush his collar. Cashmere blend Burberry overcoat, white silk scarf tucked just so against the lapels. Loafers that were very likely Ferragamo. A smile that defined
snide
.

“What are you
doing
here?” Sera gasped. The hand Asher laid on her shoulder steadied her, but did nothing to dispel the atavistic horror that erupted in her belly. “What the fuck, Austin, didn't you get enough of making my life a living hell in New York? You had to follow me two thousand miles just to make sure I was still properly miserable?”

God, when would the bullying
stop?
When she was reduced to flipping burgers in some truck stop in rural Iowa? Sera hopped off the counter, keeping Asher close by her side but needing her feet on the ground in this moment. Yet even with feet firmly planted, shoulders squared, she still felt about a foot shorter than her already meager stature; as if she'd withered from the sheer proximity of her ex. She was keenly aware of Asher observing this confrontation, of the questions that must be swirling in his mind.
God, I hoped I'd never have to tell him about Blake…
Her heart was racing, her palms sweating. She wiped them surreptitiously against the legs of her jeans. She
had
to keep it together. The only thing keener than Blake Austin's palate was his ability to sense—and exploit—fear. “When's it going to be enough, Blake?” she demanded, hating the slight quaver in her voice. “When are you finally going to leave me alone? You're obsessed!”

Blake let another smile slither across his lips, leaning familiarly against the frame that supported Sera's two-way mirror wall. “Egotistical as always, aren't you, pet? And every bit as deluded as you ever were. As if I'd bestir myself such a distance merely to get reacquainted with your pathetic self.” He snorted. “No, I'm here in this
quaint
little town for a different purpose—utterly unrelated to your presence, I can assure you. I'm overseeing the opening of a new restaurant I'm backing on Canyon Road.” He ran a lambskin-gloved finger down the edge of the freshly painted doorframe, as if he expected to find grime. “I'd heard about your little porn-themed pastry shop, and as it was already along my route to dine with my investors tonight, I decided to pop by and see for myself just how far my former protégé had fallen. Really, Serafina.” He shook his head. “Selling novelty penis cakes and boob-shaped bonbons? Even I had no idea you'd sunk so low.”

Why did we have to sell out of pie, today of all days?
Sera had a blinding, breathtaking need to plant a lemon meringue square in Blake's smirking puss. Her fingers clenched into fists, and she realized she hadn't exhaled in far too long.
Probably breathe flames if I did,
she thought.

Asher brought Sera back to her senses, wrapping an arm around her and squeezing gently. “Bliss, who is this incredibly rude little man? I would very much like to rearrange his face.” Sera could feel his muscles bunch, practically smell his testosterone go into overdrive. “Do I have your permission?”

Sera
almost
said yes. Very little would have given her more satisfaction than to watch the powerful, tender man she loved wipe her nice kitchen floors with her sadistic ex-boyfriend.

Holy shit, wait… I
love
him?

Yes,
Sera marveled:
indubitably and irrevocably, I love the hell out of Asher Wolf.

A lightness blossomed in her chest. The sick knot in her stomach unraveled, replaced by a wonderful, calm warmth that stole over her. She felt her confidence swell, grow steadfast—something she'd never been able to sustain in Blake's presence before. A part of Sera marveled as she realized what had happened.
I… I actually care about myself. I care enough about myself to give my heart to a
good
man, a
kind
man. I am done with all that self-destructive bullshit I sought out for so long—no more booze, and no nasty, belittling boyfriends to make me feel second-best. Hell, I don't care if I can't have a stupid orgasm. I don't care if I screwed things up in the past. I deserve better than to be treated the way Blake treats me.

All the years of living small, of curtailing her dreams in favor of her fears—she'd come to Santa Fe to put that negativity behind her. And this—realizing she'd fallen for Asher—confirmed she'd really started to do it.
I am done being treated like dirt. Done being intimidated by mean-spirited bullies like Blake Austin and Robbie Markham. I'm never going to be the scared little girl who kowtowed to those jerks again.

“Bliss?” Asher prompted. “What do you say? Shall I teach this oaf some proper manners?”

Sera started to smile. And once she started, that smile just grew and grew.

Blake didn't like the look of it. “Setting your goon on me?” he sneered, but she could tell he was uneasy. Asher was younger, fitter, and at this moment, bristling with a menace Sera had never before seen in her easy-going landlord and soon-to-be-lover.

My lover. My champion. The guy I adore.

I am one lucky woman.

Sera had to laugh. She turned to Asher. “Sorry, goon.” She grinned. “This is one demon I need to slay myself.” She stepped up on tiptoe to plant a kiss on Asher's scruffy chin, seeing his features soften as he searched her eyes for confirmation she was all right. “Really, Ash. I've got this. But thanks for the offer. You'll never know how much it means to me.”

At least, I
think
I've got this,
Sera thought as she turned back to Blake. Even now, infused with the delicious, pink-cloud-inducing knowledge of her love for Asher, Sera wasn't quite as confident as she pretended. Blake had been the stuff of her sweat-drenched nightmares, the source of her deepest insecurities, for far too long. He'd ruined her reputation, nearly put her out of business. Worse than that, he'd made her doubt everything from her talent as a chef to her desirability as a woman. Still, she'd be damned if she'd let the bastard bully her in her own goddamned kitchen. His very presence was threatening to soil her beautiful new business, and God knew what he had in mind when he really got going.

For, whatever he claimed, Sera knew Blake hadn't flown all the way to Santa Fe to manage any grand opening. Not one so coincidentally timed anyhow. No, her ex was here to snuff out any happiness she might have created for herself, just as he'd done so many times in the past. He must have seen the news coverage of her new bakery and decided it behooved him to smash her chances of success here as he'd done so thoroughly back in New York.

She'd better smash first.

Her new solid marble rolling pin seemed a likely weapon. It was in her hand before she even realized she'd swiped it off the counter. Blake watched her movements, black eyes narrow. A look of amusement—she couldn't tell whether real or feigned—stamped itself across his louche features. Sera planned to wipe it off, one way or another.

“Listen to me very closely, Blake,” she said softly. “You are not welcome here. I want you to vacate my property—right fucking now. If you don't leave—and
stay
gone—I'm going to call the police.” Sera waved the pin threateningly as she approached her nemesis, stopping with a few feet still between them. “Do you understand me? You're trespassing on private property and I'd be within my rights to use this in self-defense. So unless you want me to make
pâté brise
out of your ugly mug, I suggest you go meet those investors of yours—if there even really
are
investors—and Get. The. Hell. Out. Of. My. Shop!”

Blake shrugged upright, casting a derisive glance down at Sera, rolling pin and all. “I've seen what I came to see, Serafina. There's nothing of any appeal to me here.” He dusted his sleeve, as if it had been contaminated by contact with Sera's walls.

A horrible thought crossed Sera's mind. She advanced once more toward Blake, pin at the fore, until the tip stopped just short of his chest. “Don't even think of pulling any of your bullshit out here, Blake. Badmouthing me and bullying the local business community to get me blackballed won't get you anywhere.
I
have friends here.
You
don't.”

“Don't fool yourself. I have friends everywhere, Serafina.” Blake gave the lip twist that served him as a smile. “Better than that, I've people who
owe me favors.
Best not be threatening me, or you'll find your third-rate tart shop going out of business before you can blink. A word to the media—
my
word as an internationally renowned chef—and you'll be finished. In fact…” He trailed off, seeming to consider something. “What was the name of that local rag that passes for a weekly around here? Something awfully kitschy—ah yes,
Chile Paper
, was it? I really must be in touch with them. About my new restaurant, of course.”

Another über-smirk.

Sera's blood boiled over. “Asher, I've changed my mind,” she growled. “Would you please bash the living shi—”

But Blake was gone.

Into the night like the creature of darkness he was.

Sera hustled to the front entrance—which Blake had left swinging open, naturally. She didn't see him in the courtyard, but a streak of silver—of Silver, actually—caught her eye as Asher's puppy came barreling toward them, his mama Sascha remaining more discreetly behind near the
placita
's fountain. The pup, who was growing by the day, launched his gleeful, barky self at Sera, and she barely managed to catch him in her arms.

His tongue bathed the hot, angry tears from her eyes.
Thank you, pooch,
she thought fervently.
I really don't want your master to see me lose it over that sleazeoid.
Rage, a sense of injustice, and adrenaline all coursed through her system, making her shake with reaction. And in their wake came a second round of doubts. Sure, she'd run her demon off—for now—but had she really slain him? Sera sank her trembling fingers into Silver's coat and rubbed her cheek against the top of his head, breathing in his doggy smell. She felt Asher arrive at her side before she heard him.

“Bliss,” he said quietly. “What was all that about? Are you all right?”

She turned, pooch and all, to look up at him.
My mascara is probably halfway to my chin, if Silver hasn't licked it all off.
Oh well, what he'd just seen in the kitchen was worse than a little Tammy Faye facial action.

“Yeah, I'm all right.”
No, I'm not.
“That was just a bit of my baggage, coming back to haunt me. Sorry it ruined our evening.” Silver whined and placed his paws on either shoulder, as if giving her a hug. He continued to lick her chin.

“That looked like more than just ‘baggage' to me, Bliss,” Asher argued gently. “Who was that?”

She sniffed, staring out into the night. “That,” she said with a sigh, “was the man who convinced me I better quit drinking.”

She put the puppy down, where he happily began to do battle with Asher's motorcycle boots. “I'm sorry, Ash. I think I'd better go home now. I'm exhausted, and I need to be up in a few hours to start baking again.” She glanced up at him, feeling tentative, shaken in the wake of tonight's tumultuous events. Suddenly, being with Asher, being
happy
with Asher, seemed a lot less possible.
Sure, I love him, but when he knows everything about my past, will
he
ever be able to love
me
?
Blake had brought with him a bitter reminder of who she was—who she
used
to be—and it was a sobering feeling. She didn't want to be that woman anymore. She hoped she'd changed enough to escape the old Sera. But whether Asher could handle the truth of who she'd been… well, that remained to be seen. “I… I think I need some time alone.”

Asher's green eyes searched her face with concern. “You'll be all right? Would you like me to drive you home?”

“I'll be fine.” Sera laid her palm against his stubbly cheek, feeling a pang. “Thanks for having my back, Ash.”

“I'd like to have your front, too,” he teased, a twinkle in his green eyes.

That surprised a watery laugh out of Sera. She ran a hand down his coat front, tracing the buttons, loving him even more for trying to cheer her up at a time like this. “We'll see about that one, handsome,” she said.