It’s time for Tuesday Tales!
Today we have an excerpt from Dawn’s Desire, Prairie Smoke Ranch #1!
Do bear in mind that these snippets are unedited so please be kind if you find any mistakes.
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!
“Is this too much?” I pulled on the sleeves of a black western shirt that I’d worn the last time I’d been to Jackson Hole. I’d found a guy who was willing to do what the old cowboy had asked. If I closed my eyes I could still smell urinal blocks and desperation. “Nope.” I unbuttoned the shirt and flung it into the hamper. Bane watched me with feline disinterest. Reaching into the closet I pulled out a denim shirt, softly worn, and slid an arm into it. “How about this?”
The cat yawned then leaped down from the bed, obviously tired of me asking him for fashion advice. Glancing around at my room, I didn’t say as I blamed him. Clothes were tossed all over the floor and bed. Right. This was insane. It was dinner. A simple dinner. Well, not simple exactly but just a dinner. With a man. A sexy young man that had invaded my waking thoughts. Sleeping thoughts too if I were being honest.
“Guess we’ll go with denim casual,” I muttered as I tucked my shirt in and searched for a belt on the belt rack. I only had four so that made the choosing easier. I closed the closet door and gave my reflection a final inspection. Not too bad for an old coot. I cleaned up nice as they say. Giving the room a tidy because if all went well perhaps Bishop and I would end up here later tonight. Hopefully, that was too brazen of a thought.
God please let that happen.
Once the clothes were tidied and the wrinkles pressed out of the bedspread with my hand, I looked at the clock on the dresser. It was time to go get my date. My stomach fluttered with a heady mix of anticipation and nerves. Imagine a man my age being nervous about a first date. I hurried to put the pinot into the fridge to give it a blush of a chill.
“Fool,” I mumbled as I hustled out the front door, Bane streaking out before it shut to spend a few hours prowling the barns. My truck rolled over with ease and Gordon flooded the cab. I hit the eject button and replaced that CD with a Harry Chapin one. I enjoyed Harry a great deal, and tonight felt like it warranted a different singer. Different songs, different voice, perhaps a different future? Time would tell.
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