Page 18 of A Hot Sauce Halloween

I sigh. “Okay, Charlotte, go get your candy bucket and we’ll get going,” I tell her.

She rushes out of the room. Anna watches her go, quietly aww-ing to herself.

“Hot sauce?” she asks.

I raise my hands. “She picked it out. I swear, I had nothing to do with it.”

She tugs at my shell. “And whose idea was the taco?” she asks, laughing.

“Mine,” I admit.

“I like it.”

“Oh, yeah?” I lean in to kiss the edge of her mouth. “Enough to come along? I bet we can whip up a burrito costume for you at the last minute.”

“No, thanks,” she says. “I have plans.”

“The Exorcist plans?” I ask, hopeful. “Friday the 13th plans?”

She hums. “No.”

“Elm Streetplans? I would accept Hocus Pocus plans.”

Anna plants a dismissive kiss on my cheek. “Mean Girls plans,” she says. “Maybe a little Bridget Jones plans later. Round out the night with some Pride and Prejudice plans.”

“Well, it’s not my ideal Halloween,” I say, “but if it makes you happy…”

“It does.” She nods.

“Then, okay.”

She raises her arms and slowly reaches them around my neck. “Maybe next year we can find something a little… spookier to do.”

I kiss her once. “Spookier than me in a skin-tight shirt and pants inside a large foam taco?”

She snorts. “Well, nothing is spookier than that, but… maybe we’ll send the kid off and marathon a few scary movies.”

“You’d do that for me?”

“Yeah, as long as you don’t mind not actually watching them and just fooling around on the couch for a few hours.”

I smirk. “You had me at hello, baby.”

We kiss again. I try to pull her closer but the taco’s thickness makes that more than a little difficult.

A quiet giggle makes us pull apart. I catch the tip of Charlotte’s green hat disappear around the corner as she hides out of sight.

Anna smiles. “Better get going.”

“Okay.” I lower my voice. “But when I get home later… maybe we can…”

“List the taco costume on eBay?” she quips.

“God, yes.”

She laughs and lowers her arms. “Have fun, you guys. Happy Halloween.”

Charlotte jumps into the hall with her little bucket shaped like a jack-o-lantern.

I walk over and stand tall beside her. “One last glance, Mommy. How do we look?” I ask.

Anna admires us again, her expression twisted with love and amusement.

“Best daddy-daughter duo ever,” she answers.

I nod. “Damn right.”

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