Page 4 of Kringle and the Kraken

Even though I wasn’t interested in letting the KELPS members meddle, I couldn’t deny my interest was a little piqued. A new person my age in town? Of all the places in the world, why would they choose Lifeboat?

There was only one way to find out.

And since I had a box of flyers to hang around town, I had a handy excuse to pop in to meet the new business owner.

Might as well make the old hardware store my first stop.

When I pulled up in town, I understood why the guys had been so fascinated by the newcomer, whoever he was. A new sign had replaced the old Ferguson Hardware sign, and it stood out, a bold beacon on a street where most of the storefront signs were the same style, blending one into the next. A cartoon kraken had its tentacles wrapped around a vinyl record that said Kraken Vinyl in blocky, bright blue letters. A new coat of paint the same shade of electric blue had been applied to the facade of the building and through the plate glass windows, I could see rows of shelves half full with records.

To say I was intrigued was an understatement, and as I pushed through the door, a bell tinkling as I stepped into thespace, an odd sense that my life was about to change thrummed in my chest.

CHAPTER TWO

LEVI

“Hello?”

The vintage Miles Davis deep cut I’d been holding in one of my tentacles slipped from my grasp and dropped to the floor, shattering into pieces.

“Fuck.” Closing my eyes, I willed my tentacles back, pulling them into my body. When I wasn’t partially shifted or fully in my kraken form, they looked like intricate tattoos wrapped around my arms and torso, but they had texture, raised a little like a long-healed scar. “I’m in the back. Have a look around, and I’ll be up in a sec.” Kicking the broken record out of the way, I dusted off my hands and passed through the beaded curtain that separated the storage room from the front of the shop.

Outside, the sun had disappeared behind the clouds, and my tentacles tingled with the sense of an impending storm. I wondered for a second if we were in for rain or snow. This far north at this time of year, it could easily go either way.

My stomach rumbled, and I slapped a hand over it, trying to remember the last time I’d eaten. Once again, I’d lost track of time, but that felt like par for the course for a new small business owner. I’d only been in Lifeboat, Maine, for a week, and I’d spent most of that time sorting through inventory for the shop andsetting up the storefront. This wasn’t the first time I’d worked through lunch without a break.

A throat cleared behind me, reminding me why I’d come out to the front of the shop.

The owner of the throat was human, broad, and hot as fuck. His dark hair had a tiny bit of gray at the temples, and there was a touch more gray peppered through his full beard. His eyes were dark, and I felt them roam over me from head to foot as we both studied each other. He looked like a lumberjack in a red and black flannel shirt with a gray sherpa-lined heavy cotton coat over it and a black scarf draped around his neck. His long legs were wrapped in dark denim, and the material molded to his thick thighs in a way that made my mouth water and my blood pump a little faster. Even his leather boots were hot. Until that moment, I had no idea I had a thing for lumberjacks. Now, this one would be starring in my upcoming fantasies.

My tongue felt too big for my mouth, and my tentacles tingled against my skin anxious to come out and play. Usually, they didn’t get too invested in the people I met, but something about this guy had them interested. As I held back the urge to let them free, I couldn’t get my brain to make my mouth form words, so he was the first to speak. “I like your shirt.”

It took me a second to bring my faculties online enough to make my eyes glance down to see what I’d pulled out of the unpacked cardboard box that held my clothes. It was one of my favorites, a black T-shirt with a punk rock octopus holding drumsticks, a guitar, and a mic in different tentacles with the words Squid Vicious written in the same font used by the Sex Pistols above it.

“Thanks. Are you a fan of seventies punk?”

The stranger shrugged noncommittally.

“No offense, but one doesn’t simply shrug off Siouxsie and the Banshees. You’re either a fan or not. There is no middle ground.”

Hottie stranger shrugged again. “Then not, I guess, since I’ve never heard of Siouxsie and the Banshees.” He nodded at my shirt. “I do like a good pun, though, and I know enough to have an idea of who Sid Vicious is.”

That made me smile. “Fair enough, and I too prefer puns to punk as a general rule.” I checked to make sure my hand wasn’t too dirty from the old records I’d been sorting and held it out. “Levi Shoal.”

He took it, and for a second, all three of my hearts stopped beating as electric heat raced through my veins. It felt like my skin was vibrating, almost like it did right before I shifted into my kraken form but at a slightly different frequency, and I said a silent prayer to Poseidon that my tentacles would not make an appearance. The stranger, whose name I still hadn’t gotten, must have felt what I was feeling too because he was staring at our still-joined hands, a scowl creasing the skin between his eyebrows.

It was my turn to clear my throat.

He looked up at me and met my eyes, but he didn’t drop my hand, and I took that as a good sign.

“And you are?” I mentally pumped all eight of my fists when my voice came out steady and unaffected, even though I was lost in the stranger’s heated gaze and hadn’t felt an electric shock like the one I was still experiencing with the lumberjack’s hand in mine since the last time I accidentally touched an electric eel.

He blinked twice, then dropped my hand, looking down at his palm, rubbing his other thumb over the callused skin, and I almost pouted. “I’m Kris. Kris, uh, Kringle.”

Kris Kringle. I rolled his name around on my tongue and mentally drew little hearts around it. I liked the way it sounded.

Then I realized he was looking at me expectantly, that small crease between his thick eyebrows again, and I finally remembered my manners.

“Well, Kris, it’s lovely to meet you.” I looked around the shop. “As you can see, I’ve been busy, and I haven’t gotten out to meet many folks in town yet.”

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