I’d slept for what seemed like five minutes when the bouncing of the bed woke me. Two tiny bodies with sharp elbows and pointy feet were clambering over me to peek out of the octagonal window over the headboard. Someone drove a heel into my balls at the same time a bony elbow hit me in the throat. I groaned in pain.

“Sorry, Daddy,” Raina said as she yanked my pillow from my face. I blinked awake to find her nose an inch from mine. Shannal was standing beside my head, on tiptoes, the hem of her nightgown tickling my nose. Neither of them had their bonnets on I noted as I tried to roll over. “Daddy, no, don’t go to sleep again. There’s a goose parade outside!”

“Okay yeah, can we cuddle for a minute…or five hours?” I mumbled as I worked to get to my side. Raina huffed in exasperation. Shannal squealed in delight. 

“Oh look at them all! And that man is leading them with a stick! Let’s go talk to the Goose Man!” Shannal shouted then leaped over me, her kneecap landing on my arm. My balls still ached. “Goose Man! Goose Man!” 

Both of them rocketed off the bed. I smiled at the peace for about a half a second then sat up like a bolt and kicked off my covers. Goose Man?! 

“Girls! Do not go out that door!” I bellowed as they raced down the stairs. I skidded out of my room, hitting the landing that overlooked the living room and glass wall. My jaw dropped. The girls weren’t lying. There was a man with a good dozen white geese and a pair of long-eared brown goats walking merrily down the westernmost path. The animals were walking blithely while the man wobbled along favoring his right leg. I moved to run to the railing to yell over it and stubbed my toe on a china cabinet in my haste then said a few dirty words under my breath. “Raina and Shannal! Freeze!” I roared while limping down the stairs. They stood at the smudged windows that ran floor to second story, noses pressed to the glass, trembling with excitement. I gimped my way to them, grasping the worn-out elastic band of my sleep shorts, my gaze on the Goose Man. 

He was White, dark-hair hanging out from under a ratty straw hat, lanky as fuck his frame suiting a scarecrow better than a man. He wore old jeans and a tank top that bared his pale long arms. I could make out a tattoo on his left bicep but not what it was, only that the red and black ink stood out starkly against his flesh. In his left hand was a walking stick that had been painted rainbow colors. 

The geese ran at the pond, wings out, honks filling the early morning. I glanced at the clock on the mantle. It was ten after six. Fucking A. What kind of lunatic takes their geese for a walk before the sun is even up properly?! 

USA Today Bestselling Author V.L. Locey – Penning LGBT hockey romance that skates into sinful pleasures.

V.L. Locey loves worn jeans, yoga, belly laughs, walking, reading and writing lusty tales, Greek mythology, Torchwood and Dr. Who, the New York Rangers, comic books, and coffee. (Not necessarily in that order.) She shares her life with her husband, her daughter, one dog, two cats, a pair of geese, far too many chickens, and two steers.

When not writing spicy romances, she enjoys spending her day with her menagerie in the rolling hills of Pennsylvania with a cup of fresh java in one hand and a steamy romance novel in the other.