New Shores

By Sean Catt

Nash the cougar’s life is about to change—but not in the way he expects.

Blaming his father for his mother’s death in a car wreck, Nash disowns his family and leaves England for America. Once settled in the sleepy seaside town of Shorewood, he builds a new life for himself. There he makes two close friends in fel

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rough Image Publishing
• Release date: Apr 18, 2020
• ISBN: 9781916045538

Sean Catt

They say you should always write your author bio in third person, (presumably to make it look as if some copywriter in the publisher's office who's never heard of you, let alone met you wrote it). As I know me better than anyone else, I'll be doing the storytelling thank you very muchSo my name's Sean Catt and I am a freelance writer based in the South East of England near Brighton.My main writing passions are fantasy/paranormal fiction and anthropomorphic fiction. Then late at night, while the dust bunnies under the bed are busy sharpening their fangs, I dim the lights and write horror and other dark creepiness.During daylight hours I turn serious and freelance as a Technical Author writing machinery manuals, leaflets and brochures for big lumps of production equipment. At the moment that pays the bills (if you're interested please give me a shout).Yes, I'm just another poor, starving writer...I'm a member of the British Fantasy Society, and very pleased to have been Vice Chair for the New Eastbourne Writers group for three years and one of the Directors of the 2015 Eastbourne Book Festival.When I find time, I also write the odd newspaper or magazine column.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Nash rubbed at his eyes as once again tears welled up in them.

Why did he still cry after all this time?

Why couldn’t these feelings just leave him alone?

Putting an arm out for support, Nash leaned forward, and letting his forehead rest against the cool glass of the lounge window, he closed his eyes. As it became apparent the whole cool glass, meditation thing wasn’t helping any, he opened his eyes and sighing, pushed himself back upright.

From the window he could see the Pacific Ocean turned dark and foreboding by the leaden sky of a stormy, late September afternoon. Enthralled, he watched as gulls caught in the squally winds, wheeled and soared high above the churning water. The aerobatic display of flashing white specks echoing the white wave crests so far beneath them provided some distraction from his brooding—if only for a few precious minutes.

As the first spots of rain hit the window, they left little diagonal teardrops on the glass. Nash had always loved overcast autumn afternoons, and the ones in Oregon were almost as good as the English ones he had elected to leave behind in his self-imposed exile from the country of his birth and upbringing.

He remembered when he and his mother used to go out and…

No! He couldn’t keep doing this to himself.

Now, almost five years on, the all too painful memories of his mother’s death and the sight of her casket being lowered into the dark, damp soil of an English graveyard still angered and saddened him in equal measure. And no amount of time or persuasion would ever change his mind that his father and the family ‘business’ were responsible for the car crash that had robbed him of her that fateful Thursday afternoon.

At least since coming to America to forge a new life for himself, he had stopped venting his rage by punching walls and doors and starting drunken brawls in pubs and nightclubs.

As the storm swept inland, the rain started driving against the glass in earnest. Taking a deep breath, and then letting it out noisily through his nose, he turned from the window and made his way over to the open fireplace. Squatting down, he picked up a log from the stack on the hearth and plonked it on top of the ones already blazing away in the iron grate.

"Ow!"

Snatching his arm back, he fired off a string of cuss words and instinctively shook his fingers. Then he smelt it. The acrid smell of burnt fur made the cougar’s nose crinkle. Getting up he dashed to the kitchen sink to run cold water over his paw for a few minutes.

After turning the faucet off, he patted his paw dry. Then examining it thoroughly, he decided he hadn’t managed to barbeque his fingers, it was just him being a big wuss. The extent of his injuries being nothing more serious than a little singed fur. Smoothing the short, fine hair back down he looked out the kitchen window. Already a small pond had started to form again in the back yard.

Right, that was it! He would call the contractors first thing in the morning and get the new patio project underway before the bad weather set in and the yard became a full-blown lake like last winter. He knew it wouldn’t come cheap, but it had to be done, and thankfully, it was the last major project left to be done.

He hadn’t realized when he’d bought the house just how big a hole it would make in his bank account, despite being told to expect a ‘real fixer-upper’. When he stood with the realtor looking up the drive at the two-story, three-bedroom Cape Cod style house with its peeling paintwork he fell in love. Located near the end of one of the small streets leading to the beach, the property had him bewitched from the first moment he saw it, and no force on earth could have swayed him from buying it.

But now, any hopes he’d had of finishing off the house using his savings had gone clean out of the window, and he’d been forced to go out and get himself a ‘proper’ job earlier than expected. The small, and now heavily plundered trust fund left to him by his mother had become insufficient to support him unaided.

Returning to the lounge with a large mug of steaming hot tea, Nash sat cross-legged on the heavy rug in front of the fire with his thoughts. He watched engrossed as yellow and orange flames flickered and danced around the logs, which in turn popped and hissed in the intense heat, occasionally spitting out the odd red hot ember onto the pale stone hearth.

A lot had happened since he’d taken the decision to walk out on England and turn his back on his family for good. After traveling around America for a couple of years, staying here and there in rented properties, he eventually settled on Shorewood, one of the bigger coastal towns in Oregon. And after a year and a half of hard work, the house had finally become his home.

His neighbors and the people he’d met to date in the town had readily welcomed him into their community and he’d made a few firm acquaintances. The new boy in town had struck up an instant friendship with Nate one of the deputy sheriffs and the pair met up every Friday for beers and a few games of pool. Plus, whenever he went to county fairs and other local events he was never short people to chat to, something he put it down to the English accent. It never occurred to him that people actually wanted to get to know and befriend him because of who he was, not his accent.

But best of all, he had made two very close friends in Emily and Cooper, a pair of dingoes who had emigrated from Australia to the United States and settled in the town a year or so before him. He had met up with them out surfing one day and the three surf loving compadres had hit it off from the start.

Yep, life now rated as officially good. Okay, so his sex life pretty much sucked, and not in the good way either, but hey, he reckoned he couldn’t have it all. Besides, there were plenty of gay bars in Portland for when the urges pulled at him so hard that jerking off couldn’t satisfy them. But he also had other desires; he wanted—no, he needed to meet someone he could settle down with, and then spend the rest of their lives together. And although he didn’t want to admit it, there were times the closeness and loving bond that existed between Emily and Cooper made him more than a little envious.

Eleven o’clock next morning found Ray the contracting company boss standing next to Nash in the backyard.

Well, what have you decided? Ray asked looking across at the cougar who stood busily occupied tapping the toe of his sneaker in the edge of a large puddle.

Nash looked up, Definitely a kind of sandstone color, maybe with some gray in it… I think,

The rottweiler heaved a sigh and chewed a couple of times on his cigar butt, before rolling it to the other side of his muzzle. "You need to go to the landscape supplies yard right now and choose the pavers you want, insisted the frustrated contractor, we need to get the materials ordered today. I’ve other jobs lined up for my guys and our sub-contractors. And as always, at this time of year, everybody wants their outside work done while the weather’s still holding."

Letting the edge come off his voice, Ray took the stump of the cigar out of his mouth and looked straight at the cougar. You’re a good customer Mr. Stevens, then jabbing his sausage-like fingers holding the cigar in Nash’s direction, added, and I’m trying really hard here to help you out.

I know. I’m sorry, Nash apologized, I promise I’ll go there right now and choose what I want.

Chapter 2

Nash pulled his cell phone out of his jeans pocket and checked the time. He’d been at the landscaping suppliers for over an hour, and despite this being his third circuit around the yard, he still hadn’t managed to find anything that screamed ‘That’s it!’ at him.

Growling through gritted teeth, he pushed his box cap back up his head, until the rear of the peak sat level with his small round ears. In frustration, he scratched vigorously at the exposed hair on his forehead with his fingernails, before pulling the cap back down again.

"Argh! How can finding some stupid pavers be so hard?" he cried out in frustration. Hearing what he thought to be a muffled laugh near him somewhere, he spun round in order to discover the source, but couldn’t see anyone. Nash rebuked himself. Okay, just get your act together Mr. Indecisive, and choose some slabs. It’s not that damn difficult. Even for you.

Walking over to yet another stack of tacky looking pink and yellow pavers his shoulders slumped in despair. Hearing a noise nearby, he managed to turn his head just in time to see a young husky pop up from behind some metal cages of large white stone boulders.

Hi. Do you need any help there? the husky asked. I know where everything is in the yard, I work out here, he said gesturing at the yard with his arms held out wide.

Studying the smiling husky for a few seconds, Nash replied that yes he’d very much like some help before he ended up running out of the yard screaming. After having explained what he wanted, the husky led Nash over to some pallets stacked with honey-colored sandstone pavers with gray veins running through them.

Nash groaned, how did he not spot them earlier? They were unmissable, and exactly what he wanted, he threw his arms up in frustration.

The husky smiled again, I’ve been watching you for ages, wandering about looking at everything.

Well, I’m glad someone found it amusing. Nash retorted, guessing the husky had been the source of stifled laughter earlier.

The husky’s ears flattened back at the abrupt edge to the cougar’s voice. Oh… I didn’t mean to offend you, it’s just you’ve been going round and round the yard, talking to yourself.

Realizing what he’d just said had been a bit harsh, Nash felt bad. After all, the husky had offered to help, and managed to find the pavers straight away whereas, he’d still been there looking around for the rest of the day.

Yeah, I do the talking to myself thing a lot. That way I get to win all the arguments. Anyway, sorry for kinda jumping down your throat, and I really do appreciate the help. I was afraid I’d be stuck in here forever trying to find something I liked, and unless I found something today my contractor wouldn’t be able to fit doing my new patio in until after the New Year sometime.

The husky’s ears popped back up at the genuineness of the apology and the thanks. Then with a huge smile told Nash he’d load the lorry with the pavers himself as he also drove the fork lift truck, and said that he reckoned it should be an amazing looking patio. With that, he pulled a small notepad from his back pocket and with a heavily chewed stub of red pencil wrote down the details of the pavers for Nash to tell them in the office.

Tearing the page out, he passed it to Nash. As the cougar went to take it, their fingers touched, and both of them held onto the piece of paper for several seconds longer than necessary. All the time their fingers maintained contact, they gazed into each other’s eyes. Archer let go first, and they both immediately broke eye contact. Looking down at the ground Archer scuffed his steel-toed work boot in the dust, while Nash stared at the piece of paper without actually seeing the words on it.

As the silence drew out it became embarrassing, Nash felt he needed to say something, but couldn’t think of anything. Archer briefly looked back up at the cougar, then worrying his bottom lip with his teeth, dropped his gaze back to the ground and started scrubbing the sole of his boot on the ground once again.

Eventually Nash waggled the small piece of notepaper, causing Archer to look back up. I guess I should take this to the office.

Yeah. They can sort it for you then.

Yeah.

You know where the office is?

Oh, yeah… Umm, back over there.

Cool.

Well, I’ll be off now.

Oh, okay.

Umm… well, thanks again for your help.

It’s all good. Anytime.

Nash walked off clutching the slip of paper. Just before he got to the yard office to tell them of his choice, he stopped and turned around. The husky, having been caught out still watching the cougar, looked away quickly and attempted to make out he was busy doing something.

Damn it! thought Nash. The guy was seriously cute, and he made Nash’s gaydar go ‘ping’ in a big way. But there again that could easily be nothing more than wishful thinking on his part. No! The husky had to be gay, the way he’d looked at him, and the lingering finger contact all said so. Plus they both acted so awkward around each other, which had to mean they both liked each other. Didn’t it?

Oh, bollocks! In for a penny, in for a pound.

Taking all his courage in both paws, Nash strode back to the husky, who on hearing the cougar approaching looked back up. A few more steps would see Nash standing right in front of the husky, too late for him to back out now. What if the husky went all outraged hetro on him? Nah, it wouldn’t matter if he did; Nash would never see the guy again. And sure as hell, the husky wasn’t big enough to take a swing at him and get away with it.

Nash stopped in front of the husky. Err, hi again. I… Well… Nash took a deep breath in, look, when the patio’s all done do you fancy coming over for a barbecue and a few beers, you know, to see it finished like? I mean you found the stone for me and all that. Well, that’s if you want to of course. You don’t have to. If you don’t want to. Nash’s shoulders sagged and he groaned inwardly. It was unreal, he was twenty-nine and he’d just stumbled his way through that like some embarrassed teenage school kid asking for his first date.

The husky thought for a few seconds then explained that he would like to, but he was actually pretty shy and that he wouldn’t know anyone there, so he’d have to give it a miss.

Trust me, Nash assured him, you’ll know everyone there, seeing you’re the only one on the guest list.

The husky’s eyes widened and he felt his ear tips heating up. The same reaction, though not quite so bad, had started happening to a stunned Nash who couldn’t believe how forward he’d just been. He stood waiting for the final humiliating rejection of his clumsy advance that was surely heading his way. He should just turn around and walk off now; to save both of them any further embarrassment.

With just a slight hesitation this time, the husky said, in that case, he’d love to come over. A much relieved Nash thought it would be for the best if he didn’t ask for the husky’s cell phone number straight away, as he didn’t want to come across as some sort of weirdo who made a habit out of inviting strangers to intimate barbeques for two.

If I ring the office here will they put the call through to you?

The husky replied that they would and he should ask for Archer.

Nash stuck his paw out. Well, it’s nice to meet you, Archer. I’m Nash, well actually, I’m Sam, but everyone’s always called me Nash. It’s a nickname I picked up at school that kind of stuck. He was babbling.

Archer took the offered paw and shook it. Yeah likewise, good to meet you too.

Okay, so I’m guessing it’ll probably be a couple of weeks yet before they finish the work, so hopefully weekend after next, Saturday or Sunday, don’t mind which.

Archer replied he was good for either too, as he didn’t have much in his social calendar at the moment. Nash laughed sympathetically, only just managing to stop short of admitting his social life pretty much sucked too.

They settled for the Saturday, shook paws once more, both of them a lot more relaxed this time. With that, Nash finally headed off to the offices still not quite believing what he’d just done. He was never that brazen, certainly not sober, and definitely not outside some gay hook up bar. And who in their right mind invited someone they’d known for less than twenty minutes to a barbeque, especially one in October. Yet the guy said yes, so he obviously didn’t see Nash as being a complete wacko.

Archer stood rooted to the spot in total shock, watching the cougar until he disappeared into the office. He couldn’t believe he’d so readily accepted the invite, he knew absolutely nothing about the guy. But something about the way the cougar had looked at him, plus his general demeanor suggested the guy was honest and genuine.

Then there was the gay thing, Archer felt pretty confident Nash was gay too. Yes, of course, he was, he had to be, you don’t go around asking people you’d only just met to a barbeque for two. It took several more seconds before Archer realized he’d just been asked on a date, of sorts. Only ever having been out on a proper date twice before, back in college, he didn’t feel he could be regarded as any great authority on what constituted a real date. He went back to tidying the yard with what had to be the biggest grin of his life fixed firmly on his face.

As Archer worked his way through the rest of the afternoon, he kept finding himself daydreaming about the cougar. He reckoned Nash had to be a good two inches or so taller than him, which put the cougar at just over six feet, and probably a good forty pounds heavier, though Archer guessed the majority of the extra weight would likely be muscle, due to the guy’s stocky, powerful build. Archer decided he definitely liked taller, bigger and beefier.

But the cougar’s face held the greatest fascination for him. When they’d spoken there’d seemed to be a caring, genuine quality to the guy’s expression. And even though they’d only spoken for a few short minutes, there had been something about the cougar’s easy way and his warm, rich voice that made Archer feel all warm and fuzzy inside, something he’d never felt before—with anyone. As he absentmindedly pushed his broom around, he tried to imagine what it would be like to be kissed by the big cat.

Chapter 3

And you didn’t even get his cell number? Finn inquired, the disbelief in his voice tinged with the amusement he got from teasing his roommate.

Sat on the couch in their shared apartment lounge, Archer took a huge bite out of his burger. However, he knew not being able to answer wouldn’t save him for long. Over the last few years, the husky had become used to his buddy banging on about Archer’s lack of a sex life.

Finn and Archer had been nigh on inseparable since meeting on their first day together at Elementary School. So it had been natural that Finn became the first person Archer came out to in their last month of High School before the pair went off to state college.

Archer hadn’t been sure at the time how Finn would take the revelation, and it had taken a huge leap of faith on his part to do it, especially as the pair had been planning to room together at college ever since they’d started at High School. Yet, Archer knew he had to tell the wolf before they went, he reckoned he owed his best friend that much. But what would happen if Finn didn’t want the stigma of rooming with a queer? Archer reasoned that people would think Finn was gay as well, simply by association. Or even that the pair of them were in a relationship. Would it spell the end of their friendship? Or maybe it would be better if they simply roomed with other people? So many doubts and scenarios ran through Archer’s mind over the following days he kept giving himself headaches. It seemed at times he would be damned if he did, damned if he didn’t.

Then one Friday evening as the pair of them sat on the harbor wall kicking their heels, Archer just blurted it all out, hardly stopping for breath. He hadn’t planned to say it there and then. It