Page 2 of Tentacles for Christmas

Looking down at the hand he held out, I took it in mine and nodded. “Yes. To start.”

The Kings and Val laughed and we went inside the little house. There, they explained that they were shifters and I was one too. It tooka few years before I started shifting into an octopus, but by then I was part of their pack, and happily settled into Blue Lake.

From that day on, Clark Finley became the dad I never had, and he always kept his promises.

Chapter one

Cameron Bass

September

Callitkismetorfate, but sometimes, things lined up just right.

Working as a barista in a small town wasn’t on my vision board as a teen growing up in New England. I was going to get my degree in software engineering, work in Silicon Valley, get rich, have fun, and live happily ever after. What they don’t tell you about the tech industry is how competitive it is to get in, and then how high burnout is for everyone involved.

Between the cost of living and the dating life of the Bay Area, I barely made it five years past getting my graduate diploma. Six years of college before that had me turning twenty-nine and staring down my twink death with nothing but sixty-hour work weeks and a neglected tank of fish to show for my life.

There were also the stock options. I saw the portion of my pay I got in stocks and crypto were on an upswing, sold them all, andtold my landlord I wasn’t renewing my lease on the over-priced studio apartment right under San Francisco airport’s flight path. I didn’t have a full plan, but a coworker asked if my place was available when I gave my two-weeks notice. He had been living out of his van, so I sold him my furniture, packed up my clothes and fish in my car, and drove.

First, I went to Yosemite, because I’d never been despite years of living so close. Then Tahoe, where I played exactly one casino game and decided I wasn’t into losing money that fast. I went south to the Mexican border before driving along the Pacific Coast Highway to see the beaches I’d never taken the time to visit, and then I veered inland north of the Bay.

My plan was to try some wine in Sonoma and Napa, but a picturesque place called Blue Lake captured my attention when I rounded a bend and it sparkled among the trees.

Swimming and playing water polo had been a big part of my life in my teens, and I loved the water. I wanted to find out if I could rent a kayak or paddleboard, but it was a hot summer day, so a swim would have been enough.

Parking by the water, an older building was being renovated with the sign naming it as Perk Café, where they had a table out with coffee and pastries to promote the coming business. And I never could pass up coffee after working my way through college at a corporate coffee shop.

When I’d introduced myself to the owner, Edwin “Eddy” Rodgers, he asked what I did for a living. I replied between bites of a delicious croissant. “I’m between jobs.”

Eddy was a friendly man, balding and in his fifties, and he quickly got my life story. Including that I knew my way around an espressomachine. He said I could stay in the houseboat he had for sale and work for him once the place opened, and I offered to buy it. Eddy didn’t want my money, so I traded him my car. I could buy another one, but everything was within walking distance.

Before driving into the town of Blue Lake, California, I’d been aimless. Within an hour, I had a home, a job, and a purpose. I didn’t know how long I’d stay, but I was determined to get Eddy’s business going until it was successful.

What I hadn’t anticipated was falling in love with the town and its people.

On the surface, a rural town wasn’t a good fit for me. I was non-binary, and flamboyantly queer. I bleached my curly hair and changed the color at a whim, had a septum piercing, and didn’t conform to gender norms for clothing.

I was everything the news warned country folk about coming from San Francisco, and it was why I’d left small-town life in Connecticut. I wouldn’t hide my shine.

Somehow, I wasn’t the only queer person in a town of just over one thousand. On my second week in Blue Lake, I’d met Riley Jones, a gay man who’d recently come back to town to live permanently with his best friend. I’d swooned over their second chance encounter and how Fowler King was so protective of him.

When I was pondering why a burly, bearded, biker man couldn’t walk into my life, too, a man walked into the door.

Literally.

A red-haired man locked eyes with me and walked straight into the clear glass door of Perk Café. Thankfully, he didn’t break it, but hedid look embarrassed before walking away. Riley and Fowler seemed to know him, but didn’t tell me his name.

The following week, I wondered if the red-haired man would return, but I never saw him around town. My luck, he was just passing through, and we’d missed our meet-cute moment.

The bell rang over the door and I turned to greet the new customer. “Welcome to Perk Café!”

The same man I was fantasizing about a moment before was chewing his lip and glancing between me and the menu board over my head. Deciding he probably didn’t want me to say I remembered him from his accident the week before, I waited patiently for him to meet my eyes again. Except, he didn’t.

“Hi, I’m Cam,” I stated.

Turning his warm brown eyes, behind thick glasses, on me had me holding my breath. I took in the tattoos snaking along his arms and out of the collar of his shirt. What would he sound like? My first guess of a deep, confident voice was partially correct when he finally replied. Growly and deep, but not so confident.

“Uh, hi, Cam. I’m Rowen Redfin,” he started, then closed his eyes and leaned his head back to take a deep breath before explaining. I bit my own lip to keep from smiling at his reddening cheeks. “I mean, most people call me Red. My name is Rowen Finley. But you didn’t need to know all of that.”