Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
TESSA
I woke to an unfamiliar stillness. Not the cold, empty silence of my rental townhouse, but something deeper—the quiet around me was lived-in, comfortable. Morning light filtered through plantation shutters, casting geometric shadows across the bedroom walls.
Braden’s bedroom.
Braden’s bed.
Yesterday rushed back in a sensory blur—my breakthrough discovery, the manic energy that had driven me to Tidal Hops, the way his control shattered when I kissed him. The kitchen. The bedroom. The feel of his body moving over mine, inside me, the raw intensity of his gaze.
I turned my head on the pillow. The other side of the bed was empty, the sheets cool to the touch. He’d been up for a while. Reality settled over me in a heavy, complicated weight.
What have I done?
The question wasn’t about regret. I couldn’t regret something that felt so completely, inevitably right. But my fear was sharp and immediate.
What happens now?
I sat up and pulled the sheet around me. My clothes were puddled on the floor—Braden must have picked them up from the hall where we’d left them last night. The sight made my stomach do a slow, nervous flip that was half desire, half anxiety.
I needed to think. To breathe. To figure out what came next before I faced him.
I gathered my clothes and dressed quickly, my hands clumsy with nerves as I tied the ripped part of the shirt into a knot.
Satisfied my repair would work, I prepared to leave the room.
The bedroom door was slightly ajar, and faint sounds emanated from deeper in the cottage.
I paused at the threshold, my heart hammering.
Part of me wanted to flee, to slip out the front door and deal with this when I had time to construct a rational response.
But after what we’d shared, Braden deserved more than me running away.
Again.
I pushed open the door and walked down the short hallway.
The kitchen was flooded with morning light, all clean lines and stainless steel.
Braden stood with his back to me at the counter, pouring coffee into a mug.
He wore jeans and nothing else, his shoulders tense beneath tan skin, his hair still mussed from sleep and my hands.
The sight of him—bare and beautiful in his own space—made something twist deep in my chest.
“Morning,” I said quietly.
He turned, and the careful neutrality I’d been bracing for wasn’t there. His expression was stripped bare, vulnerable in a way I’d never seen. No charming smile, no deflecting humor. Just raw honesty.
“Morning.” His voice was rough, unused as he grabbed another mug and filled it. “Coffee?”
I crossed to him and took it, wrapping both hands around the warm ceramic, needing something to hold onto. Thick silence stretched between us. I opened my mouth to lighten the air, but he spoke first.
“I told myself I’d keep my distance. After that kiss on your doorstep, I promised I could handle it. That I’d maintain the boundaries.”
I stared at him, my heart thumping against my ribs.
“But then you walked into Tidal Hops yesterday.” He set his mug on the counter with a soft clink, his gaze never leaving mine. “And you were so alive, so brilliant, talking about your breakthrough. And I realized I’d been lying to myself.”
“About what?”
“About my ability to resist you.” His jaw tightened. “You’re my kryptonite, Tessa. You always have been.”
I licked my lips. “I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or an insult.”
“Neither. It’s the truth.” He stepped closer, so close that I had to tilt my head back to meet his gaze. “And the other truth is that I can’t find it in myself to regret any of what happened yesterday. Or last night. Not one second of it.”
I couldn’t draw a full breath. This wasn’t the guarded man who’d proposed our careful arrangement. This was the man who’d looked at me last night like I was the only thing in the world that mattered, who’d touched me with a hunger that matched my own.
“I don’t regret it either,” I admitted. Then, because he’d offered me nothing but truth, I returned the favor. “But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t wake up this morning and panic. My first instinct was to run.”
A shadow crossed his face, a flicker of old pain. “Tessa—”
“No, wait.” I shook my head. “That instinct was because of fear. Of… this. Of how complicated everything just got. But I’m still here, and I don’t regret a single second of it.
Last night, I finally stopped fighting what was between us.
We both did. And I’m not going to diminish that just because it complicates things. ”
Something fierce and relieved flashed in his eyes. “It does complicate things.”
“I know.” I set my coffee mug down next to his, needing my hands free. “But we’re adults. We can acknowledge that last night was… significant. Without it changing the fundamental reality of our situation.”
His expression shifted, becoming more guarded. “Which is what?”
“That I’m still leaving. That my life is in California. That this—” I gestured between us, “—is still temporary.”
He was quiet for a long moment, studying my face. Then he nodded slowly. “You’re right. It doesn’t change anything.”
But the slight roughness in his voice suggested he didn’t entirely believe it. Neither did I.
“So what do we do?” I asked.
“We keep being honest.” He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, the gesture achingly tender. “We admit that the physical connection between us is powerful. Real. We stop pretending we can ignore it.”
“And then?”
“And then we enjoy the time you’re here.” His hand dropped away. “No expectations beyond that. No promises we can’t keep.”
“Braden, how?” My words were quiet, but they stopped him cold.
“We live and work in a fishbowl. Kaia and Zane aren’t blind.
Your brother is ten feet away from my boat slip every morning.
My research—the entire reason I’m here—depends on a professional relationship with your family’s resort.
This can’t turn into gossip.” The weight settled on my shoulders.
“I can’t let this… this relationship jeopardize my work. Or your business.”
The intensity in his eyes softened, replaced by sober understanding. This wasn’t a hypothetical problem to him. It was the daily reality of running his family’s business in a town where privacy was a myth.
“You’re right. We can’t stop people from talking.
They’re already doing that,” he admitted, a wry edge to his voice.
“But we don’t have to give them a show. So, on the boat, at the resort, around the staff—we’re colleagues.
We keep that line clear and sharp. No blurred lines that could jeopardize your project or my business. ”
He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “But off the clock… that’s ours. Can you do that? Can you flip the switch?”
It sounded like a fantasy. A high-wire act over a pit of certain disaster. We would be asking ourselves to ignore the very thing we’d just admitted was too powerful to ignore, compartmentalizing a fire we’d already lit.
But what was the alternative? Stop? That was even more impossible.
“I can do it,” I said. “My research and your business have to be the priority during the day.”
“Agreed.”
I stepped back, and this time it felt less like fleeing and more like setting a new fence in place. “I should go. I have all that data to process. And I guess we both have a long day of being professionals ahead of us.”
It was a logical plan. A mature, adult evolution of our initial agreement. We weren't just exploring chemistry anymore. We were managing a relationship that threatened to consume us both.
Simple.
Except nothing about this was simple.
He didn’t argue, but tension was clear in the way his hands clenched and unclenched, as if physically restraining himself from reaching for me. I grabbed my purse from where I’d dropped it by the door last night and walked toward the exit.
At the threshold, I turned back. Braden stood in his kitchen, lit by the morning sun and staring at me with an expression of equal parts hunger and resignation. Like he knew exactly how this would end and was walking into it anyway.
I couldn't leave like this. Not with that look on his face.
I dropped my purse on the floor and crossed the room in three strides. He met me halfway, his resolve snapping the moment I moved. His arms swept around my waist, lifting me off my feet, and his lips crashed into mine.
I gasped a moan into his mouth. Our kiss was a searing reminder of exactly what we were trying to partition.
For a long, breathless moment, there was no research, no brewery, no ticking clock.
Just the heat of his skin and the warm, wet slide of our mouths.
When he finally set me down, my hands were trembling.
“Professional,” he rasped, his hands lingering on my hips. “We’re going to keep it professional.”
“We will,” I whispered, stealing one last, quick kiss before pulling away. “Starting now.”
I grabbed my bag and walked out the door before I could change my mind.
On the drive back to my townhouse, I kept the windows down, letting the humid morning air whip through the car as I tried to clear my head.
I pulled into my driveway and killed the engine, sitting in the sudden silence. Inside, I headed straight for my laptop. Work. Data. Science. The tangible, rational things that made sense when my personal life was spiraling into chaos.
I opened my email, intending to review the messages from Kaia and Zane about the sample analysis protocol. But the first unread message in my inbox made me freeze.
From: Dr. William Albright, Director of Marine Research, Scripps Institution
Subject: Invitation: Great Barrier Reef Fellowship Application Pool
My heart gave a hard, painful thud against my ribs. I stared at the subject line for a full ten seconds before my shaking fingers clicked it open.
Dr. Donovan,