Chapter 6 #2
“Maybe.” Dylan doesn’t sound convinced. “But there’s something else. I don’t know what the fuck it is, but something’s off about him.”
“You haven’t had enough caffeine,” I say, trying to lighten the mood. “You always get paranoid when you’re running on empty.”
“Fuck off. I’m serious.” He’s still staring at Ash through the glass. “You don’t feel it?”
I stare out at our new recruit. He’s doing another slow spin in his chair now, taking in the whole office like he still can’t believe he’s here. Then he stops abruptly, straightens his shoulders like he’s practicing his posture.
“Maybe he’s just a unique guy,” I say finally. “No harm in that.”
“Yeah, maybe.” But Dylan is still watching him. “It’s weird, though. I keep telling myself to look away, but I can’t stop staring. What the fuck is wrong with me?”
I don’t have an answer for that, because I’m having the same damn problem. There’s something about Ash that keeps pulling my attention back, even when I’m trying to focus on other things.
It’s not attraction. I’m into women. Always have been. But there’s something magnetic about this guy that I can’t explain.
Before I can say anything else, the main door to the building opens, and Jasper strolls in.
He’s impossible to miss. Six feet, four inches of solid muscle, blond hair falling to his shoulders. He spots Ash immediately and stops, his ice-blue eyes narrowing.
Ash notices him and waves. It’s enthusiastic as hell, very eager.
“Oh, this is gonna be good,” Dylan mutters.
We watch as Jasper approaches Ash’s desk. Even from here, I notice the way Jasper is studying him, that intense focus he gets when something doesn’t add up.
Ash jumps to his feet, and we watch as he extends his hand for a handshake.
“Look at that concentration,” Dylan says, grinning. “He’s really focusing on getting that handshake right.”
“Firm grip. Very important,” I add.
“Critical for establishing dominance.”
We watch as they shake hands, and Jasper tilts his head, saying something we can’t hear through the glass.
“What do you think he’s asking?” Dylan wonders.
“Probably why he smells like he bathed in cologne.”
Dylan snorts. “Or why he’s trying so hard.”
Ash responds to whatever Jasper said and then suddenly flexes his arm, showing off his bicep through his flannel sleeve.
Both Dylan and I lose it, trying to muffle our laughter behind our hands.
“What the fuck did Jasper say to make him do that?” Dylan gasps.
“Maybe asked if he lifts.”
“Or if he can open a pickle jar.”
“Or defend himself in a bar fight.”
We’re still laughing when Jasper turns and heads toward my office, shaking his head but wearing a grin.
He pushes through the door and closes it behind him, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. “Well, our new recruit is definitely something.”
“Oh really?” I try to sound casual, like we weren’t just watching the entire interaction and providing commentary. “How so?”
“He’s determined to prove how strong he is.” Jasper’s grin widens. “Told him if he needed help carrying anything, as some of our gear is heavy, to ask for help. He flexed and said he’s been building muscle.”
“Insecure about his size, probably,” Dylan says thoughtfully. “Maybe that’s what we’re picking up on. Just a guy who’s nervous and overcompensating.”
“Could be.” Jasper doesn’t sound entirely convinced. “How’d the walk-through go?”
“Good. He seems enthusiastic as fuck and ready to dive in, which is what we need.” I push off from the desk. “I’m gonna get him set up with the accounts so he can start.”
“Sounds good.” Jasper moves toward the door. “I’ve got to check inventory. Holler if you need anything.”
Dylan follows him out, and I’m left alone with my thoughts for a moment.
I open my top drawer and pull out the phone we use for social media, along with a Post-it note where I’ve scribbled all the passwords. Everything is already logged in, but he’ll need the passwords to access things from his laptop.
My actual phone is in there too. I shoved it in the drawer this morning after it buzzed one too many times. Ever since that post went up by Ash’s sister, Anita, front and center like she wasn’t casually throwing the internet into chaos, my notifications haven’t stopped.
Instagram is unusable. My inbox is clogged with DMs, reposts, tags I didn’t ask for.
And yeah, part of me wants to be irritated.
But mostly? I just keep thinking about Anita.
The way she looked and laughed like she wasn’t impressed with a damn thing I said.
She’s hot. No question. But it’s more than that. She intrigues the hell out of me.
I need to see her again.
Find a way to repay the favor.
I smirk and leave my phone in the drawer for now, then I head back out into the main area, social media cell and note in hand.
Ash glances up as I approach, and there’s something hopeful in his expression. Like he’s waiting to see if I’m going to tell him he’s doing a good job or that he fucked up somehow.
“Here you go.” I set them on his desk. “This phone is logged in to all our accounts. Instagram, Facebook, TikTok. Passwords are there for when you need to access them from your laptop. Username for the laptop is wilde_admin. Password’s on the note.”
“Got it.” Ash picks up the phone. “I’ll start going through everything today. Check the posting history, engagement rates, what’s been working and what hasn’t. Start building a strategy.”
“Perfect. Take your time, get familiar with everything. You need anything, just reach out. My office is right there.” I point to the corner.
“Thanks, Mason. Really. I appreciate the opportunity.”
“Welcome to the Wilde Charters family,” I say.
There’s something about the way he smiles. I should walk away. Go back to my office. Get some actual fucking work done.
But I find myself standing there, staring into those muddy green eyes, trying to figure out why the hell they feel familiar. There’s something there. Something just out of reach.
It’s like staring at a photo that’s slightly out of focus. You know what it’s supposed to be, but you can’t quite make out the details.
“You all right?” Ash asks, and there’s concern in his voice.
“Yeah.” I shake myself out of it. “Just thinking. You seem familiar. Sure we haven’t met?”
“Positive. First time in Mistberry.” He says it quickly, almost too quickly.
“I just mean your face is distinctive,” I clarify. “Not generic. You’ve got… distinctive features.” Silence. “Well. I’ll let you get to work.” I turn to go, then pause. “And, Ash? You don’t have to try so hard. Just be yourself. That’s enough.”
He nods and lowers his attention to the phone. “Thanks,” he says quietly.
I march back to my office, but I feel his eyes on me the whole way.
Once I’m back behind my desk, I pull up the invoice spreadsheet I’ve been avoiding all morning. Numbers. Facts. Things that make sense.
But my gaze keeps drifting back to that desk by the window.
Ash is bent over his laptop now, completely focused, and there’s something about the curve of his neck, the way he tucks his hair behind his ear, that sends another jolt of recognition through me.
But it’s gone before I pin it down.
I force myself to focus on the spreadsheet. Invoices. Supply orders. A tour to prep for in two days.
Work. I need to focus on work. Not on why our new recruit keeps pulling my attention like a magnet.
Not on why his voice wavers in that specific way.
Not on why his scent feels wrong, artificial, like he’s hiding something underneath all that cologne.
I shake my head and dive into the numbers, determined to get through at least one fucking spreadsheet without getting distracted.
But every few minutes, my gaze drifts back to that window.
And I can’t shake the feeling that I’m missing something obvious.
Something right in front of me.