Gay Paranormal Romance
Date Published: October 9, 2026
Believing in love and in luck is something Gavin swore he’d never do again -- until he meets Ford.
“Something wonderful is going to happen today.”
“Were you talking to me?” A fun-sized blonde deliverywoman, no one Ford had met before, juggled her armload of Flowers Fast! boxes to pop out her iPod earbuds.
Ford grinned up at her from where he’d crouched to study the sidewalk perpendicular to the museum service elevator he, and presumably she, was waiting on. “Sorry, no. I wasn’t talking to you. Not that I wouldn’t. Everyone I’ve ever known swears you can’t shut me up for love or money. They’re usually right.”
The deliverywoman looked like she couldn’t decide between aww, cute and running. “You’re a little crazy, aren’t you?”
“So I’m often told.” He’d bet this woman was one heck of a character herself. She’d made some, er, interesting fashion choices involving calf-length striped tights and patchouli hair wax. “I’m Ford.” He offered her a hand from below. “Come down here and check this out.”
“This isn’t some kind of cheesy pick-up line, is it? I’d be flattered, but… okay, wow. From the look on your face, I can answer that one myself. So not a pick-up line. If you were any less into women, you’d be a gastropod.”
Ford laughed. “That’s a new one on me.”
“If the shoe fits. I’m Kayla.”
“Ford.”
“Like the truck?” The deliverywoman crouched beside him. Good. Ford liked her, and her coming along for the ride was an excellent sign. Something wonderful and something unexpected were set to happen today. “You deliver for Rush Plus, right?”
“Packages where you want them to go as fast as you want ‘em to get there. Or as fast as I can pedal.” Ford patted his heavy messenger bag.
“Pleased to meet you. I could use a pick-me-up. Delivering flowers is surprisingly thankless work. What’s this good thing that’s going to happen today?”
“I don’t know yet.” Ford waved up from their spot on the sidewalk at the weird door to the external service elevator and the five floors of refurbished mill-cum-museum it had to sledge its way down at the speed of thick molasses. “It’s complicated. If you’re up for it, there’s time for me to explain.”
“God, tell me about it.” Kayla scowled at the stubborn doors.
Ford had started to feel the burn of his crouch, the solid weight of his body not really best designed for sitting this way, but he could take it a little longer, and he had a good example right in front of him. A penny, less than a foot away on the sidewalk. “Do you believe in magic?”
“Wait, what? Do you mean stage magic? Illusions and that kind of thing?”
“Not exactly.” Ford nudged the penny with the tip of his finger and waggled his eyebrows at her. He liked playing over the top. Made people less nervous of the giant with his crazy talk.
“Ohh, I get it. See a penny, pick it up, and all day long you’ll have good luck?”
“Exactly.” Ford levered the penny off the sidewalk.
“Ugh!”
“Hey, don’t knock it just because it needs a little TLC.” Ford balanced the penny in his palm, where it looked lost and tiny in the breadth and width of his hand. Or, depending on your point of view, safe. Protected. “It’s heads up, even. Extra good luck.”
“Yeah, but where’s the proof?”
“You don’t need proof if you believe. And I do. Because it’s true. This penny means it’s my lucky day.” Ford shifted and winced. His knees had had enough of bearing all his weight. Time to stand. “I need to stand up. Don’t freak out, okay?”
“Why would that tweak me?”
“You’ll see.” Ford stood slowly to give her time to adjust to his size. At six feet nine with a proportionate build that could only be described as solid, he liked to make sure people knew in advance he wasn’t a threat.
Kayla’s eyes widened. She took a step back, then forward, her chin up. “Holy cow. Sorry, just… wow, man. You’re huge.”
“And you’re itty-bitty. I won’t hurt you.”
“A gentle giant, huh?” Kayla studied him with her head tilted to one side. “Okay. I believe you.”
“You’d be surprised how many don’t. Thank you. May I?” Ford took her hand to kiss the back of it.
“Touché, Mister.” Kayla fiddled with a strand of her spiky hair. “So you really, really believe in luck? What about omens and good signs and that kind of thing?”
“Yes, yes, yes, and all of the above, yes. And you don’t, right?”
When Kayla shook her head, a ladder of silver rings running along the outer shells of her ears jingled. All positive signs that pointed toward good fortune. Better and better. “Don’t shun me or anything. I’ve just never seen any proof that all those old wives’ tales are more than just stories.”
Ford grinned broadly at her. He loved it when someone was willing to be convinced. “If it’s proof you want, I can do proof. Prepare to be amazed.”
About the Author
A storyteller and a sewist, Will Okati has lived through a few Interesting Times but come out the other side ready to roll. Looking for them? Look for a keyboard or a vintage Singer. They'll be there. They're most often accompanied by their beloved pair of orange-flavored felines: Hobbit (toothless, sweet) and Onion (spicy, known to bounce off the literal ceiling in pursuit of a ladybug).
Will likes to say still waters run deeper than anyone knows, and life -- like storytelling -- is always a work in progress.
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