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Last Chance Llama Ranch

Page 42

by Hilary Fields


  Nothing had ever stood in Pauline Wilde’s way. Not for long, anyhow. Ever since Sera could remember, Pauline had been pushing boundaries, defying convention, sticking her middle finger in the face of anyone who told her she couldn’t do something she wanted to do. She was a woman utterly estranged from the concepts of shame, modesty, and deference. In comparison, Sera, raised by stolidly conventional yuppie parents until she was thirteen, had always felt somewhat small and apologetic, though Pauline had done her utmost to yank her niece from beneath her towering feminist shadow and lend her some chutzpah when her own wouldn’t take Sera the distance.

  It hadn’t worked, even when Sera had gone to live with Pauline after her parents’ sudden deaths. If anything, the contrast between Sera’s shy, repressed thirteen-year-old self and her ballsy aunt had made Sera shrink down even smaller, despite her deep love for the older woman. She knew Pauline would be horrified if she realized her efforts to toughen Sera up had done more to make her squirm than make her strong. She admired Pauline’s ideals of striving for self-fulfillment, even as she doubted her own ability to advocate for her deepest needs and wants. She simply didn’t feel she had the right to happiness the way Pauline so obviously did.

  Shaking herself firmly, Sera reminded herself she was nearly thirty, and had been self-supporting since college. She’d faced—and conquered—some extremely tough demons, particularly in the last year. She’d seen a bit of what her inner mettle was really worth, and learned to trust her instincts more and more. Pauline’s support had done a lot to set her on that path. Now it was time for Sera to do the supporting.

  Her aunt’s frantic call had come just yesterday.

  Hortencia’s gone. I need you, Baby-Bliss.

  Sera’s heart had sunk. Pauline and Hortencia had been inseparable for the last few years. Her aunt must be devastated. I’m coming, Aunt Paulie, she’d assured her aunt over the phone. I’m on the next flight. And she had been.

  Before Sera could so much as set down her carry-on, Pauline had wrapped her arms around her niece and was squeezing for all she was worth. Instantly, Sera was swamped with that familiar Pauline smell: part musky herbal—mugwort or pot, she’d never been sure—part fairy godmother. Tears sprang into her eyes.

  “Fuck, it’s good to see you, Aunt Paulie.”

  “Ditto, kid-bean. Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes, too.” Pauline took her time eyeballing her niece, flipping the short, chin-length ends of Sera’s new bob approvingly, putting her hands on Sera’s hips and turning her this way and that. “Lookin’ good, kiddo! I see all those sweets you bake aren’t hurting your sweet figure any. You’ve still got a tush on you like a couple of hot cross buns. You didn’t get that from me, that’s for sure. Tuchas like a freakin’ pancake, that’s what I’ve got. A crepe even, these days. Ah, but what am I babbling about? Baby Bliss, let’s get your shit and blow this taco stand. I can’t wait to finally show you what heaven’s all about.”

  Bemused, Sera trailed after her aunt down the long, wide ramp that led to the baggage claim. Had grief made her loopy? Er… loopier than usual? Because she’d expected sorrow-stricken. Wan. Shaken. All the sad emotions the joyful, fearless Pauline Wilde had never seemed susceptible to, but surely must be feeling after the death of her life partner.

  At least, that had been the impression she’d given Sera when she’d called to tell her that Hortencia was suddenly gone. I’m devastated, Bliss. Utterly wrecked, she’d said. Could Sera please drop everything and fly to New Mexico to help her deal with her loss?

  Given that Pauline was, quite simply, Sera’s single favorite person, she hadn’t hesitated for a second. After all the times she’s saved my bacon, Sera thought fondly, she’d be within her rights to ask for a kidney. Hell, both kidneys. In any case, considering how little anchored her to New York these days, taking time out was no great hardship. And she’d been missing Pauline a lot lately.

  “So how’s your love life, kid?” Pauline asked—loudly—over her shoulder as they headed for the bag claim. Her skirt jingled in counterpoint to her strides. “You getting any?”

  I didn’t miss this part, Sera thought with a mental wince. She avoided the smirking glance of the college-aged bohunk trotting down the ramp to meet his gloriously tanned, crunchy-granola girlfriend, her arms outstretched as if to announce to all and sundry, “Now you… you’re getting some.”

  “Um, I’m doing okay,” she said weakly. “Not dating anyone seriously right now. Mostly trying to keep the catering business out of the red, keep myself on the straight and narrow. That kind of thing.”

  “That wasn’t what I asked,” Pauline said, huffing a little as they made it to the conveyor and started scanning the bags. “I asked if you were getting laid. Don’t really need a boyfriend for that, though of course, it never hurts to know where your next O’s coming from. One of the benefits of a steady relationship, I s’pose.” Her face clouded over momentarily.

  “I’m so sorry about Hortencia, Aunt Paulie,” Sera jumped in, eager to change the subject, and also to comfort the woman who’d once been her sole solace after her parents’ deaths. “It must have been quite a shock, her passing so suddenly. I had the impression she was healthy as a horse, with all that hiking and mountain climbing you two were always doing. I’m just sorry I never got to meet her. From everything you’ve told me, she must have been a really special lady.” Sera patted Pauline on the shoulder. “How are you holding up?”

  Was it her imagination, or did her aunt flush, just slightly?

  Pauline made an impatient, fly-shooing gesture. “Don’t get me started with the wailing and weeping just yet, kiddo. I need these eyes to see. It’s a long drive to Santa Fe, and we have a lot of catching up to do. So,” she finished, briskly clearing her throat and pointing at the luggage rattling around the conveyor, “I’m gonna guess yours is the one that looks like a giant pink cupcake with rainbow sprinkles on the front?”

  Sera had to admit it was.

  “Great, let’s get that cupcake to go.”

  As she stepped out into the sunlight, Sera took her deep first breath of New Mexico’s thin, dry air. Goose bumps rose along her arms, but somehow she didn’t think the cool September breeze was to blame. She sensed a weightlessness, a sense of potential—as if destiny had taken a vacation and left her with a wide-open fate. She couldn’t say how she knew, but she had a feeling her life—her very being—was about to change.

  And considering the woman she’d been until recently, that might be a very good thing.

  Because that chick had been a real fuckup.

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  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Welcome

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapt
er 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  By Hilary Fields

  Meet the Author

  A Preview of Bliss

  Newsletters

  Copyright

  The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Copyright © 2015 by Hilary Fields

  Excerpt from Bliss copyright © 2013 by Hilary Fields

  Excerpts from Euripides’s Medea, translated into English rhyming verse by Gilbert Murray, M.A., LL.D, copyright © 1906 by Oxford University Press

  Cover design by Wendy Chan

  Cover image © Shutterstock

  Cover art © 2015 Hachette Book Group, Inc.

  All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher is unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the publisher at permissions@hbgusa.com. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

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  First ebook edition: August 2015

  Redhook is an imprint of Orbit, a division of Hachette Book Group.

  The Redhook name and logo are trademarks of Hachette Book Group, Inc.

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  ISBN 978-0-316-27741-9

  E3

 

 

 


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