Chapter 6
MASON
Dylan nudges me as we reach the edge of the dock, his elbow digging into my ribs. “Hey, you got this? I’ve got a few things to sort out before the lunch run.”
I grunt, watching the new guy stare out at the boats like he’s never seen water before. “Yeah, won’t take long. Go do your thing.”
“Thanks, man.” Dylan claps me on the shoulder and strolls off, already pulling his phone out to deal with whatever fire needs putting out.
I turn my attention back to our new recruit.
Ash Monroe stands at the edge of the dock, hands shoved in his pockets, completely captivated by the sight of the boats bobbing in their slips.
Snow dusts the dock around us, collecting in the corners and along the railings, and his breath comes out in white clouds.
The morning sun catches in his brown hair, windswept and slightly messy, and there’s something about his profile that keeps snagging my attention.
Which is weird. I don’t usually spend this much time staring at new hires.
“All right,” I say, moving closer. “Let me give you the rundown.”
He turns, and those muddy green eyes meet mine. There’s something off about them, but I can’t put my finger on it. The color seems wrong somehow, like it doesn’t quite match the rest of his face.
“We’ve got eight whale-watching charter boats at the moment, but we may need more, as some days it’s not enough,” I continue, gesturing toward the vessels tied up along the dock.
“Not all the boats are here. We’ve got them docked around the bay.
There are also two for sightseeing and fishing charters, and one that runs around with supplies.
Come summer, we’ll have them running daily.
Sometimes twice a day if the bookings are heavy.
We also hire a bigger team during the summer. ”
“They’re beautiful,” Ash says, and his voice is deeper than I expected. But there’s something wavering about it, like it’s not quite settled. Almost like he’s forcing it lower than it naturally sits. He clears his throat. “Sorry. Think I’m getting over a cold.”
“No worries.” I start walking along the dock, and Ash falls into step beside me. Snow crunches under our boots. “So we do maintenance during the colder months, plan for the busy season, work on marketing. Which is where you come in.”
“Right. Social media, promotional materials, all that.” He’s nodding, eager. “I’ve been looking forward to this.”
I glance at him as we walk. He’s smaller than most guys I know, slighter build, more compact. Not weak-looking, just… fuck, I don’t know. Delicate isn’t the right word. He’s clearly in shape, just built differently. Some women probably go for that. The sensitive type.
But that’s not what’s bothering me.
It’s his scent. Or lack of it. Or too much of it?
There’s cologne, definitely. Something cedar and citrus, but it’s heavy as hell. Like he dumped half the bottle on himself this morning. And underneath that, there’s something that smells artificial, manufactured. Wrong. Not like any Beta scent I’ve encountered before.
Maybe he’s one of those guys who are paranoid about body odor. Some people go overboard with the products.
But I find myself staring at his face, trying to work out what the fuck is nagging me.
I push the thought aside and focus on the task at hand.
“So we’ve got a job booked in a couple of days,” I explain. “Private fishing charter. Small group, just four people. Should be a good opportunity for you to see how things work, get some content for the social media accounts. Photos, videos, that kind of shit.”
“Perfect. I can start building a content calendar, plan out posts ahead of time.” His enthusiasm is genuine; I’ll give him that. “Do you have any footage from previous tours I can look at? To get a sense of what’s been working?”
“We’ve got some stuff archived. Pretty basic, though. That’s why we need you.” I stop, turning to face him. The wind picks up, carrying snow across the water. “The previous person we had doing this wasn’t great. No vision, no follow-through. Just posted random photos whenever they felt like it.”
“What happened to them?” Ash asks. “If you don’t mind me asking.”
I shrug. “They didn’t fit what the role needed. We needed someone more dedicated. Someone who actually gives a damn about the work.”
“Well, I definitely give a damn,” Ash says, and there’s real determination in his voice. “I want this to work.”
“Good.” I clap him on the shoulder, and he rocks slightly under the impact. Shit, he’s lighter than I expected. Barely any weight to him. “Come on. Let me show you the office.”
We head back up the dock toward the main building. It’s a large converted warehouse, all exposed brick and high ceilings, with massive windows that let in tons of natural light. We renovated it a few years back, turned it into something that doesn’t feel like a goddamn dungeon.
I push open the heavy door and gesture for Ash to go first.
His reaction is immediate. Eyes going wide, he scans the space with obvious appreciation.
The main floor is an open plan, with desks scattered throughout and a kitchen area in the back corner that’s bigger than most people’s actual kitchens.
Around the perimeter are six offices with glass walls, which keep things feeling open while still allowing for privacy when needed.
Plants line the offices, hanging from the ceilings and sitting on shelves, adding life to the industrial space.
It’s a good setup. Functional but not sterile.
“This is incredible,” Ash murmurs, spinning slowly to take it all in. “I wasn’t expecting it to look like this.”
“Yeah, well. We spend enough time here. Needed it to not feel crappy.” I point to the kitchen. “Coffee’s always on. Help yourself to anything in the fridge. Bathroom’s that way.”
I gesture toward a hallway at the rear of the room. “Spare offices are mostly for meetings or when someone needs privacy for calls.”
“And my desk is…?”
“Over here.” I lead him to a spot positioned near one of the floor-to-ceiling windows, with a clear view of the harbor.
New laptop, comfortable chair, enough space to spread out.
The desk is visible from most of the offices, but that’s just how the layout works.
“You’ll be able to see us; we’ll be able to see you. Makes communication easier.”
Ash nods, running his hand over the desk surface. “It’s perfect. Really.”
“Get comfortable. Grab coffee if you want. I’ll bring you the social media phone and your login details for the laptop. Today you can just read through everything, get familiar with the accounts. Tomorrow you can start actually posting.”
“I’m ready,” Ash says, and that enthusiasm is back in full force. “I can totally do this.”
He’s nodding hard, and there’s something about the gesture that seems over the top. Like he’s trying to convince himself as much as me. Then he puffs his chest out slightly. “Yeah. Let’s make some killer content. Really strong stuff. Masculine energy, you know?”
I bite back a laugh.
“You know. Boats. Ocean. Rugged Alpha shit.” He’s gesturing with his hands now, and I’m not entirely sure he knows what he’s talking about.
“Right. Alpha shit.” I can’t help but grin. “Sounds good.”
He settles into his desk chair, swiveling slightly to test it out. Then he looks up at me. “So, do you live nearby? Like in town?”
“Yeah, up on the hill. Got a place that overlooks the cove.” I lean against his desk, crossing my arms. “We all live there together.”
“Oh?” There’s shock in his voice.
“We’re a pack,” I state, watching his face. “Run the business together, live together.”
Something flickers across Ash’s face. It’s hard to read. “That’s really good,” he says quietly. “One day I’ll find my pack.”
The words hit harder than they should. There’s real vulnerability there, underneath all the nervous energy and forced masculinity.
I reach out to pat his shoulder in what’s meant to be a reassuring gesture.
At the exact same moment, Ash reaches up to pat my arm.
His hand connects with my bicep with way more force than necessary, and I rock sideways, caught completely off guard.
Ash’s eyes go huge. “Oh, shit! Sorry! I wasn’t paying attention. But I’ve been working out, so. You know. Building muscle mass. Very masculine muscle mass. For strength.”
I catch myself, laughing. “Fuck, man. You’ve got a solid hit there.”
“Thanks. I mean, yeah. Totally.” His face is going red now. “Gotta stay in shape. For… carrying things. Heavy things. Like boxes. And equipment.”
“Right.” I’m full-on grinning now. This guy is either the most awkward person I’ve ever met, or he’s actively trying to prove something. “All right, let me grab your stuff. Get settled in.”
I head toward my office at the far corner. The glass walls give me a view of the whole operation, and I glance back to see Ash doing a full spin in his desk chair, staring out at the harbor. Then he suddenly stops, straightens his shoulders, and focuses very intently on his laptop screen.
Like he just remembered he’s supposed to look professional.
I shake my head, pushing open my office door.
Dylan is already inside, sitting on the edge of my desk like he owns the place.
“So?” he says immediately. “What’s your read?”
I shut the door behind me and move to lean against the desk next to him. From here, we have a clear view of the new recruit through the glass walls and the plants scattered throughout the office.
“He’s nervous,” I say. “First-day shit, probably.”
Dylan is shaking his head. “Nah, man. It’s more than that.”
“What do you mean?”
“His scent is fucking weird.” Dylan is staring at Ash now, his expression thoughtful. “It’s too strong. Too manufactured. Like he’s covering something up.”
I’d noticed the same thing, but hearing Dylan say it out loud validates the nagging feeling in my gut. “Maybe he’s just self-conscious. Some guys are weird about their natural scent.”