Tuesday Tales - Bean

It`s time for Tuesday Tales.

Today we have a snippet from the third Cayuga Cougars MM hockey romance book, Coach’s Challenge. In this excerpt, Victor and his son are trick-or-treating.

Our word prompt today is “Bean”.

This story may have gay erotic scenes, strong social issues addressed and mature language. If those things offend now is the time to move onto another Tuesday Tales blog. Thanks for stopping by!

“Come on, sonny boy, let’s go hit up the neighbor.” I plodded along, oversized feet tangling up every five steps. When we hit the end of the driveway, Jack pulled me by the tail toward Mrs. Milken’s parcel of land. He loved the gnomes, which were now decked out in stupid Halloween costumes. Snow couldn’t come soon enough to bury the demented little things. “No, don’t touch them.”

Jack drew his hand away from a resin gnome in a witch’s costume. Did she sew them all by hand? If so, the old gal needed to get out more. Jack dropped my tail and raced to the front door, pounding on it with gusto. I finally arrived after a trip that nearly sent me into a congregation of gnomes worshipping Satan. The door opened and a skinny, old, black woman stepped out onto the porch. Jack held up his bag.

“Gimme some for my feets!” The kid shouted loud enough to wake the dead. I gave the Satanic gnome cult a concerned peek.

“It’s trick or treat, buddy,” I corrected him. Mrs. Milken gave me a long onceover then turned her attention to my son.

“What kind of person are you supposed to be?” She bent down close, her bowl of candy held away from the boy in the red-and-white, two-piece skirt and midriff outfit with a sidesaddle long black wig. I tried to step up onto the porch but my feet were too big.

“Pincess Moana!” Jack yelled. Why he was shouting I didn’t know. Kids.

Her gaze flew to me. “Isn’t this child of yours a boy?”

“Yeah, your point?” I gave her a lethal look. Or as lethal as it could be from inside my stupid costume. I was so ready for this. Dan had coached me on how to politely handle any comments about us letting our son dress like a girl. I had my own replies lined up and they were far less PC than my husband’s.

“Good on you, lad.” She smiled widely at me then dropped a handful of jelly beans into Jack’s bag. His face lit up. He ran off the edge of the porch, fell on his face, jumped up, and streaked away.

“Dammit,” I grunted, waved at the gnome keeper, and tried to chase after my son. I caught up with him at the next house. He’d joined a larger group of kids who were considerably older than he was. I nudged them aside, took my wild child by the hand, and made him wait his turn all while trying to get his wig back on his head. Jack had a minor meltdown when he saw all the other kids getting a treat while he had to wait. Oh, yay, the joys of fatherhood. Finally, it was his turn. He sniffled and pouted until a Snickers bar hit the bottom of his bag, then he was all sorts of happy-happy-happy. This time I was ready, and his little wrist stayed in my hand.

Copyright 2017 ©by V.L. Locey

*~*~*

Click on the link below to return to the Tuesday Tales main blog for more great reads from the Tuesday Tales authors.

Tuesday Tales