Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Jared
The life vest straps slide through my fingers as I count them for the third time. Twelve vests, all present and accounted for. The checklist on my phone stares back at me, each item ticked off in sequence.
This is my first solo run as captain, and everything has to be perfect. My cousin trusted me with this run after weeks of training, and I refuse to let him down.
“Engine oil level, checked. Fuel, full tank. Safety equipment, all present,” I murmur, moving down the checklist in the hope it will still the flutter of nerves.
The late afternoon sun glints off the water of Misty Pines’ main dock, turning the ripples into flashes of gold that dance across the hull of the water taxi.
My hand glides over the smooth edge of the steering console, memorizing every switch and dial by touch. The boat sways in a gentle rhythm that’s worked its way into my bones after weeks on the water. I’ve finally found my sea legs. No more tripping over myself or splashing coffee across the deck.
In front of Emily.
The memory of her heats my face, and the flutter in my chest grows. I shake my head and focus on my pre-launch tasks. No distractions today.
I check the time. Ten minutes until scheduled departure, and the dock remains empty.
The weight of responsibility settles on my shoulders.
Kyle handles this job effortlessly, chatting with passengers while steering between Misty Pines and Pinecrest with the ease of someone who’s spent decades at the wheel.
Movement on the trail catches my eye. Two pairs of hikers approach along the shore path, backpacks loaded, hiking boots crunching on the gravel.
Four people total, three men and a woman.
They walk close but separate, and I remember how they had arrived this morning at different times. So probably not close friends.
“Good afternoon,” I call out, straightening my posture and adopting what I hope is a captain-worthy stance. “Welcome to Misty Pines Water Taxi. Headed to Pinecrest?”
The tallest man steps ahead of his companion, a woman with copper hair pulled into a tight ponytail. His chin tilts up, shoulders broadening as he looks at the other two men. “That’s right.”
I bring up the check-in, check-out list of visitors on my tablet. “Names?”
Nobody buys return tickets, but the water taxi is in charge of keeping a list of everyone who visits the island in case someone goes missing.
“I’m Derek.” The tall man announces, resting a hand at the small of his companion’s back. “And this is Mia.”
The other two hikers exchange a glance I can’t quite interpret. One of them smiles at Mia, revealing perfect teeth. “Great hiking today. Perfect weather for it.”
“Sure,” she mumbles and shrinks closer to her companion, tension tightening her features. I note the way her body angles toward his, using him as a buffer between herself and the other two men.
I cross their names off my list to indicate that they left the island and turn to the other group.
“Todd and James,” the one in the baseball cap says, and I don’t miss the way his focus keeps shifting to the woman.
His friend stands with arms crossed, backpack straps tight across his chest.
Uneasiness ripples through me as I check them off, too. “I’m Captain Jared. We’ll depart in about five minutes. You’re welcome to board and find seats.”
The first man, tall with a day’s worth of stubble on his jaw, steps onto the boat ahead of the woman, before offering his hand to help her board.
He scans the deck before leveling me with an evaluating stare. “Are you the regular captain?”
“I usually assist my cousin, but today I’m running solo,” I reply, helping the other two men aboard. “Don’t worry, though. You’re in good hands.”
The woman accepts his hand, her fingers clutching his. A slight tremor runs through them, and her chest rises and falls too quickly. Is she anxious about the boat ride?
When Todd and James climb onto the boat, Derek shifts his weight, blocking their view of Mia. The movement isn’t subtle with his feet planted, shoulders squared, and head high. Every line of his body screams territorial.
This is where most Alphas would rely on scent to understand the dynamics.
They’d pick up territorial pheromones, possessive markers, perhaps even attraction signals.
But all I have are my eyes and ears, the visual language of bodies I’ve spent my life learning to read after I realized I’d never experience the pheromones my peers base every interaction on.
When one of the men moves closer to Mia to store his backpack, Derek’s jaw clenches, the tendons in his neck straining beneath his tanned skin. Mia places a hand on his arm, but again, I can’t tell if it’s to restrain or reassure.
I busy myself with final preparations but keep them in my peripheral vision. Todd and James settle into seats near the middle, both angled to maintain sight lines to the front where Derek and Mia sit. Their postures mirror each other, alert, interested, and forward-leaning.
The uneasy feeling grows. In my weeks of training, we’ve never had an issue between riders. This is the worst time for Kyle to decide I’m competent, so he can go check out a new fishing hole.
“Water’s a bit choppy today, so please remain seated,” I announce, retrieving the mooring rope. “Trip should take about twenty minutes. Life vests are under your seats if needed.”
Derek’s attention stays locked on the other hikers as I speak. When one of them moves to a seat with a better view of Mia, Derek’s hand slides to her thigh in a silent claim of possession.
The tension vibrates in the air like a plucked string. I don’t need to smell it to know it’s there.
I move to the steering console, struggling to stay calm. The engine purrs to life beneath us, the reassuring rumble traveling up through the soles of my boots.
“Cast off in one minute,” I call out, mentally reviewing the route to Pinecrest.
Stick to the channel markers, time the crossing to hit the reef section at slack, then come in from the southeast to let the current ease me alongside the dock.
“So, have you two been hiking long?” James asks, directing his question to Mia rather than Derek.
“We’re experienced,” Derek answers for her, putting an end to further discussion.
I untie the last rope, coiling it before tossing it into the locker and stepping back aboard. The boat drifts free of the dock, and once I’m steady at the helm, I ease the throttle forward. Water churns white behind us as we slide into open water.
The island of Misty Pines shrinks behind us as the boat gathers speed. Wind whips across the deck, and I keep my knees loose to ride the boat’s rise and fall.
I keep an eye on my passengers during the crossing, sensing the growing tension between the two groups. Derek keeps one protective arm around Mia, who sits rigidly, her focus locked on the horizon, while her body language screams discomfort.
The water churns beneath the hull, spray misting across my face as I grip the wheel. A wave catches us broadside, and the boat rocks harder than I anticipated. I adjust our course, driving requiring my full attention as I scan the channel markers ahead.
“So you two took the ridge trail?” James asks. “We hiked over there yesterday. Beautiful views.”
“We did,” Derek answers, the words clipped. “Until we noticed someone following us.”
The accusation hangs in the air, and I risk a look over my shoulder to see Todd raise his hands in mock surrender. “Popular trail. Didn’t mean anything by it.”
I return my attention to the water, where whitecaps begin to form as the wind picks up. The boat dips into a trough, then rises again in a rhythmic pattern I can predict and respond to, unlike the human dynamics playing out behind me.
“Strange how you kept stopping whenever we did,” Derek continues. “Like you couldn’t decide on your own pace.”
“Trail etiquette, man. You pass slow hikers or keep your distance.” I catch the smile under Todd’s words. “We were trying to be polite.”
I check our course, adjusting for the current trying to push us off the channel. Pinecrest appears in the distance, buildings tiny along the shoreline. Still fifteen minutes out, maybe more with these waves.
A soft sound draws my attention, and when I risk another look, Mia is almost panting now, her cheeks flushed pink and her fingers gripping the edge of her seat. Her eyes meet mine before darting away.
Seasickness, I decide. The chop is getting worse, and not everyone has sea legs.
“We have motion sickness tablets in the first aid kit,” I offer. “And water bottles under your seats.”
Mia shakes her head, shrinking into Derek’s side as he tightens his arm around her shoulders. The gesture does nothing to soothe her. If anything, the trembling in her hands worsens.
“She’s fine,” Derek snaps. “She’s just tired from the hike.”
“Sure that’s what’s going on?” James asks with an undertone to the question I don’t understand.
The boat rises and falls in a stomach-dropping swoop, and I grab the wheel tighter. I hope she doesn’t puke. I don’t want to be left to clean it up.
“Man, is it me, or is there some heat out here?” The hiker in the baseball cap wipes his brow, though the wind off the water stays cool.
His companion drags in a deep breath, a smile spreading across his face. “I’m definitely smelling something interesting.”
The comments are strange and disjointed, but Mia reacts at once. She edges toward the hull, drawing in on herself, trying to stay as far from the men as the cramped space allows. Her throat tightens around a hard swallow, her breathing quickening.
So it’s anxiety about the building argument. Not seasickness.
“How about we enjoy the view?” I suggest, trying to defuse the situation by gesturing to the horizon where sunlight sparkles on the waves. “Looks like we’ll get rain tonight.”