It’s time for Tuesday Tales!
Today we have an excerpt from The Christmas Pundit, Laurel Holidays #2.
Do bear in mind that these snippets are unedited so 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!
“Mayor Griffiths, a quick question?”
I glanced up from an enchanting young lady who was missing two front teeth to look right into Gideon’s face. My first instinct was to throw my arms over my head to shield myself. Thankfully, I quickly got over that reaction and straightened my shoulders. Gideon was quite the lanky bastard. I had to tip my chin to speak to him. Which was an odd sensation as I was an inch over six foot so rarely had to look upward at anyone. Good Lord the man had grown up well. Still big, still wide in the shoulder, but now with those Tony Curtis late 50’s smoldering looks courtesy of Mr. Pierce. A few sprinkles of gray in his ebony hair to complete the sin-on-a-stick look.
“Good to see you again, Gideon,” I said as every eye – or the eyes that knew of our history – zeroed in on our first meeting. I offered him my hand. His gaze flicked down to the open hand, then to my face. He placed his phone into his left hand to shake. His grip was strong, sure, confident. As was mine. I hoped. “What brings you back to Cedarberg?”
“Prodigal son and all that. I’m taking over as editor-in-chief of the Cedarberg Gazette.”
“Oh.” That was unexpected. I threw a questioning look at Aubrey who shrugged. “I wasn’t aware that Linda Calhoun had stepped down.”
Gideon nodded just once. “It will be announced in next week’s paper. So, Mayor Griffiths, I was wondering how you were planning to pay for this proposed expansion of the Christmas carnival. And then there’s the parking situation. As now it stands there’s nowhere for the public servant’s who work in the courthouse to park in front of town hall, yet you’re planning on expanding the Christmas carnival. Where will all those people park? Out at the Mike Stanford’s pig farm?” He held his phone between us, his green eyes glittering like gemstones from Satan’s earrings.
Damn the man. Guess he couldn’t shove me into the dirt physically so he planned to do so politically? A good kick in the shins was required here, but since I wasn’t eight anymore, I flashed a broad grin and replied in my best mayoral way.
“I’m glad you brought that up, Mr. Pierce, and welcome back home. I’m sure your unbiased and thought-provoking editorials and articles will enhance our small town paper.”
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