Halloween
isn’t always scary. Sometimes, it’s romantic in a way you’d
never believe.
Blurb
Passion.
Friendship. Love. Some things a man simply can’t forget…
Finn
has no idea what he’s doing at a haunted house on Halloween, but
his tour guide Caty certainly rocks his world. Irresistibly drawn to
her, he indulges in wicked delight and a return to their shared
destiny.
Excerpt
Home.
The word popped unbidden into Finn Gallagher’s mind. An odd
occurrence even on Halloween when supernatural events supposedly
ruled.
Not
being superstitious, he should have smiled but couldn’t.
A
Victorian house loomed before him, its façade painted rose,
gingerbread trim strikingly white. Its vintage sign
proclaimed—Haunted House Tours.
Definitely
not home.
Children
dashed past, costumed to resemble ghouls, reviled politicians, or
popular media figures. Wonder Woman kicked butt for the girls. The
genie from Aladdin edged out the Lion King for the boys. Kids swarmed
the neighborhood and worked their way down the street. Their shrieks
and shrill laughter faded. None bothered with the tour.
Maybe
it sucked.
Finn
had no idea about that or why he was here, unable to recall the trip
or this destination.
Blustery
wind swept across Lake Huron. The wintry blast tousled his hair,
rattled bare tree limbs, and delivered an unbearable chill from the
water. He clutched his coat closer to his throat and lifted his face.
Ominous clouds pressed in. Coming rain scented the air.
Honeyed
light poured from the house, the glow warm and inviting.
Strange
that a haunted house should seem safer and more enticing than the
street. Whoever had planned this tour was clueless as to what the
public wanted or children demanded. A new group of kids ignored the
place, not even bothering to check out the two bicycles abandoned on
the expansive front lawn. The bikes, along with rollerblades and
skateboards, were the only transportation allowed on the island.
He
stilled, not certain how he’d known that. Probably had been on the
sign. Nope. On a brochure? He patted his pockets. No literature
there. Mystified, he stepped closer to the place.
A
young woman stood on the widow’s walk. Her waist-length blonde hair
and long white dress whipped in the stiff breeze. She leaned against
the railing and offered a welcoming smile.
Intense
heat coursed through him. His knees wobbled.
Something
creaked.
The
front door had blown in…unless it had opened on its own.
Dismissing
such a crazy notion, he lifted his hand in greeting to the woman.
Gone.
Where?
Shadowed
figures passed the upstairs windows, gauzy curtains making them
indistinct. The promised ghosts? He wanted to laugh but didn’t. One
form stood a head taller than the other. Had to be a man with the
young woman he’d seen. The guy was most likely her lover or
husband.
Inexplicable
sorrow gripped Finn followed by acute loss for someone he’d yet to
meet. Definitely time to go. This was nuts.
He
pivoted.
A
strong violet scent surrounded him even though no flowers bloomed on
the bushes. Drawn by the fragrance, he hurried up the walk toward the
house.
A
child darted into his path.
He
reared back to avoid colliding with the little girl.
Unmindful
of his presence, she waved and shouted to her companions. “Hold up!
You’re going too fast!”
Laughing,
they bolted away and taunted. “Slowpoke. Slowpoke. Slowpoke.”
She
ran toward them, tripped on her witch costume, and tumbled to the
grass.
“Whoa.”
Finn crossed the lawn and touched her arm to help. “You okay?”
“No!”
Crying, she shoved spilled candy into her sack and raced to her
friends.
They
laughed at her witch nose, bent from her fall. She giggled with them
and set the thing right.
A
gust scented from violets slammed into Finn and pushed him to the
house.
Heart
pounding, he crossed the porch and stopped in the foyer painted a
cheery yellow with white moldings. Furniture from way back when
decorated the expansive space.
Footfalls
sounded overhead. One heavy. One lighter. The man and woman from the
windows. He tilted his face to the ceiling. The couple crossed from
room to room, working their way back to the master suite.
His
skin prickled. He hadn’t a clue how he’d known that. Wait. The
widow’s walk was on that side. Made sense the largest bedroom would
be, too. He’d painted enough client portraits in front of and
inside Victorian structures to know the architecture.
Relieved,
he lowered his face and started.
The
young blonde woman from earlier looked at him worriedly, her slender
eyebrows lifted. “I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you.” She
rested her hand on his arm. “Are you all right?”
More
like delighted to have her next to him instead of upstairs with the
man…and the other woman. “Yeah.”
“I’m
so glad.” Genuine happiness lit her lovely smile.
Her
concern comforted and aroused him as nothing had in too many years.
Warmth rolled through him, settling in his groin, thickening his
cock.
Dark
lashes fringed her sapphire-blue eyes. Pink flushed beneath her milky
skin. Heat radiated from her despite the cold night and what little
she wore. Her white crocheted dress was a throwback to hippy finery
popular in the sixties, the intricate design bearing flowers and
tassels. Silver rings graced each finger. None resembled an
engagement or wedding band, thank God. The contraptions on her feet
weren’t exactly shoes. There were no soles, merely braided leather
cords wrapped around her slender toes that she’d then tied to her
ankles. Dangling feathers and blossoms hammered from silver adorned
the leather to make Bohemian wedding sandals.
His
arms goose-pimpled. He didn’t want to guess how he’d known the
name for her footwear. Never had he been into women’s fashions,
especially those from long ago. It was 2019 for Chrissakes, his
thirtieth birthday barely past.
She
couldn’t have been older than mid-twenties.
“Hi.”
He offered his hand. “Finn Gallagher.”
Bliss
crossed her lovely features. “Caitlyn.” She slid her fingers over
his and squeezed gently.
His
hair stood on end, indescribable pleasure filling him. Liking it, he
grinned.
Loud
laughter rang out overhead. “Did I interrupt your tour?”
“Not
at all, Mr. Gallagher. I’ve been waiting for you.”
Follow
Tina!
2 comments:
This sounds delicious, Tina!
Thanks, Lisabet! I had fun writing it. :)
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