The Sailor (Alpha Cove #2)

Chapter One

Marit Phillips had had high hopes for her new job working on a lobster boat in Rockville.

However, she’d only been there a week and unfortunately, some of the same issues she’d had while working down in Portland had already started.

But at least this time her boss, the captain of the Wave Rider, seemed to be genuinely happy to have her on board.

Eliot Sullivan was around fifty years old and, like a lot of lobster boat captains, had been working on the waters around Maine since he was a kid.

It was in his blood, as people liked to say, and he’d been successful enough this year not only to hire a second crew member for his boat, but to actually need another pair of hands.

His son, Jonah, was a little older than Marit, and he worked just as hard as his dad. In the week she’d been working for the father/son duo, she’d laughed more than she had in years.

In fact, the comparison between the overall working atmosphere here and the one she’d left behind in Portland couldn’t have been more different.

Even though both cities were in Maine, Rockville seemed to be a lot less cutthroat, which was a relief.

In Portland, she’d walked on eggshells every moment she was on a boat and didn’t relax until she was home, behind the locked door of her apartment.

It was no way to live, and making the decision to move to the smaller town up the coast had been risky. But so far, Rockville had more than met her expectations . . . despite the minor rumblings of the last couple of days.

Because of course, not everyone was happy to see her on the docks.

She knew from experience that many lobstermen still had long-held and deeply ingrained prejudices against women working on the boats.

Some didn’t think women were strong enough to do the physical work required to haul lobster pots in and out of the water all day.

Others felt it was bad luck to have a woman on a boat.

And still others were just assholes who wanted to keep all the money to be made in the lobster industry to themselves.

For the most part, Marit had learned to ignore the naysayers, those who wanted to see her fail. Who would delight in seeing her slink off with her proverbial tail between her legs. But . . . she couldn’t deny the fact that a narrow-minded jerk was the entire reason she’d left Portland.

Thorne Deaton.

Even thinking his name made the hair on the back of Marit’s neck stand up.

The man was dangerous. Though no one else seemed to think so, which she honestly didn’t understand.

Her previous boss actually told her that he was harmless after she’d brought up some of the things he’d said to her when no one else was around.

Insisting he was simply “blowing off steam” and that she shouldn’t worry.

But Marit had learned a long time ago that there were different expectations because of her gender. She was well aware that as a woman in a male-dominated profession, she had to work harder and longer than the men around her, and if she made any mistakes, they would be held against her for months.

Thorne owned a lobster boat named Sea Men Rule.

It was a misogynistic name at best, pornographic at worst. Of course, most of the men she worked with thought it was hilarious and couldn’t understand why she was so offended.

But it wasn’t just the name of his boat that had set Marit on edge.

Thorne was a big man—over six feet tall, and he outweighed her by at least a hundred pounds.

He was loud, brash, and loved to embarrass others, men and women.

Most people thought he was a joker, a good ol’ boy, and for some reason, they let him get away with things that would get other lobstermen heavily fined, like constantly having oversize lobsters in his catch—including the occasional breeding female.

That was one of the most egregious mistakes you could make . . . the females with eggs attached to their bellies were the future of lobstering. And any lobsterman worth his salt knew to notch the tails of those females and throw them back.

But weirdly, the other lobstermen—and even the odd enforcement officer—let Thorne get away with that shit.

Marit didn’t understand it, and she’d actually confronted Thorne at one point about his questionable fishing practices. He hadn’t liked that, and from that moment on had made it his goal to make her life miserable.

He’d succeeded. So much so, she’d left Portland and moved farther inland to mid-coast Maine.

Thankful to have left Thorne behind, Marit still wasn’t surprised she’d begun to experience some of the same discrimination she had while in the bigger city, but thankfully not on the same level as she had with Thorne and his buddies. At least . . . not yet.

She’d started working almost as soon as she’d arrived in town.

With Eliot’s help, she’d also found a tiny apartment, but she hadn’t had time to actually unpack much yet.

With Rockville’s Lobster Fest starting in a week, she’d been working long hours on the boat with Eliot and Jonah to catch as much as they could.

Everyone wanted as many fresh crustaceans as possible, since apparently people from throughout Maine, and even the country, flocked to the small town to enjoy all the activities the festival had to offer, which included cooking contests, running races, live entertainment, crafts . . . and of course, lobster.

The excitement for the looming festival was infectious, and she loved living so close to the heart of the town.

Her new apartment was two blocks away from the main street, and she enjoyed being able to walk to work, as well as the choice of family-owned restaurants for picking up dinner on her way home.

So overall, Marit still had far fewer complaints and was much happier since making the move.

She made good money, especially since she was single.

She’d always invested responsibly, and she didn’t have a lot of needs or vices.

At twenty-eight, she thought she was doing more than all right, as far as making a living.

She loved what she did, loved being on the water, even when weather conditions were less than ideal.

And she truly enjoyed most of the people she worked with.

The majority were hardworking, down-to-earth men.

Exceptions like Thorne Deaton were few and far between, thank goodness.

It was the end of another long day, and she’d gone to use the restroom as soon as she, Eliot, and Jonah returned to shore.

She was returning to the Wave Rider—hoping to avoid more of the dubious looks she’d received from a couple of lobstermen on her way to the public facilities—when she saw a man standing on the dock next to the boat, talking to Eliot and his son.

He turned and eyed her up and down as she walked toward the trio. Usually that kind of visual inspection irritated her, but Marit didn’t see any judgment in his eyes . . . or any leering, for which she was thankful.

“Hi,” she offered as she approached.

“Marit, this is Zachary Young. He’s a local boy who recently moved back home after doing a stint in the Navy. He owns The Lobster Buoy.”

Marit’s eyes widened. “Oh my gosh, really? I love that place!” And she wasn’t simply being polite to the man. That lobster shack had some of the best food she’d ever eaten—and she considered herself a lobster expert, considering how much time she’d spent around the creatures.

Eliot went on to explain to the newcomer that she’d just started working for him, and that she’d moved up from Portland.

She held out a hand to the man, wishing she was taller, as he was a giant.

He towered over her five-two frame by more than a foot.

Her head barely came to his shoulders. But she’d long gotten over being intimidated by men who were taller than her .

. . simply because just about everyone over the age of twelve was taller than her.

“Marit Phillips,” she said, introducing herself. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Zach.”

Zach’s hand closed around hers—and she was surprised to feel a jolt move up her arm when he touched her. That had never happened to her before, and she had no idea what it meant.

She kept the smile on her face, not willing to give any hint that this introduction was different from the dozens of others she’d had in the last week. Eliot seemed to delight in introducing her to anyone and everyone he knew, so she’d met a lot of people recently.

But none had caused a reaction like this man.

When she pulled her hand back, Marit couldn’t stop herself from taking a step backward, wanting to kick herself for letting even that small sign of discomfort show.

She was known for being stoic; she’d learned not to let her true feelings show because they could and would be used against her . . . at least, they had in the past.

She listened as Eliot and Zach discussed how many lobsters he wanted, and as they chatted about the upcoming weather for the Lobster Fest. It was supposed to be sunny but not too hot, which was perfect for the vendors at the festival.

Eliot packed a crate full of lobsters for Zach, and without thought, Marit reached over and picked it up. It was heavy, but she’d been hauling lobster pots in and out of boats for years. It was no heavier than those. “I’ll help you load up. Lead the way,” she told Zach.

He stared at her for a beat, and she wanted to kick herself. This man didn’t need her help. He could’ve easily carried the crate himself. But she was curious about the guy who’d caused such a reaction with just a simple handshake. Wanted to get to know him better.

Which was shocking. When was the last time she’d had the slightest interest in a guy? Years. It had been years. She’d been too busy working. And therefore, the men she saw the most were the ones she worked around every day . . . and they weren’t exactly the type she envisioned for her future.