Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
brADEN
The kiss haunted me. The rest of the day and evening at work was a mindless haze. Since getting home, I’d been pacing my cottage for the better part of an hour, replaying every second of it—the way Tessa melted against me, that soft sound she made. The one I’d never forgotten.
My home, usually a place of perfect order and calm, was like a cage. The couch where I normally unwound with a beer mocked me. Even Tom Petty couldn’t drown out the chaos in my head.
I marched to the bathroom mirror and stared at my reflection. The same face that had been so carefully composed during our tour of the brewery now looked haggard and uncertain. My hair stuck up at odd angles from dragging my hands through it, and my eyes held a wildness I hadn’t seen in years.
“What possessed me?”
I had no idea. That kiss had shattered something fundamental—the careful wall I’d built between past and present, the neat narrative I’d constructed about why Tessa leaving had been for the best. One moment of her lips against mine, and twelve years of emotional architecture had crumbled to dust.
The worst part?
I wanted more.
I wanted to ignore the fact that she was Dr. Donovan now, with a life and career that stretched far beyond the borders of Dove Key. But I couldn’t ignore it—because I’d been here before.
The memory hit me full force. I gripped the vanity and closed my eyes. Seventeen-year-old Tessa in my arms during our senior year as she told me about her full scholarship to UCSD.
“It’s just four years,” she’d whispered against my neck. “We can make it work.” But even as she said it, I’d seen the truth in her eyes. She was already reaching for a future I couldn’t be part of.
I’d let her go because I’d been too young, too proud, and too screwed up to fight for her. Now I was thirty years old and successful in my own right. So why did I still feel like that same lost kid?
The rational part of my brain—the part that had built Tidal Hops, that understood business plans and risk assessment—knew exactly what I had to do.
I had to control this situation before it controlled me.
I had to set boundaries, establish rules, and protect myself from the inevitable crash when Tessa left again.
Because she would leave. The question was whether I’d be smart enough to guard my heart this time, or stupid enough to let her take it with her when she went.
By morning, I’d made my decision.
I drove to the marina with the sunrise painting the sky in shades of coral and gold, my hands steady on the wheel despite the knot in my stomach.
I studied the old McGregor property as I drove past, mangroves and weeds taking over the place as I remembered the conversation about it on the boat.
That was when Tessa and I had really started to reconnect.
The working marina was already bustling with activity—charter captains prepping their boats, commercial fishermen heading out for the day, the familiar sounds of diesel engines and clanging rigging that had been the soundtrack of my childhood.
I found Tessa on the deck of Seahorse, her back to me as she organized equipment for the day’s dive.
She wore practical khaki shorts and a faded blue t-shirt, her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail that somehow made her look both professional and effortlessly beautiful.
The sight of her sent a jolt of desire through me I ruthlessly suppressed.
“Tessa.”
She turned at the sound of my voice, and I caught a flash of something—hope? fear?—across her face before she schooled her expression into careful neutrality.
“Braden.” Her voice was steady, but tension was clear in her tight shoulders. “What are you doing here?”
I stepped onto her boat without invitation, the familiar motion of adjusting to the gentle sway second nature. “We need to talk.”
She nodded, setting down the dive computer she’d been checking. “About yesterday.”
“About the kiss,” I said bluntly as her cheeks flushed. “And about what happens next.”
My directness caught her off guard. Her throat bobbed as she swallowed. She’d probably expected me to dance around that meeting of lips, to pretend it hadn’t happened or dismiss it as temporary insanity. Not gonna happen.
“Okay,” she said quietly. “What happens next?”
This was it. The moment where I either protected myself or walked straight into the fire. I chose protection.
“You’re here for three months.” I was pleased when my words came out deliberately calm and measured. “Twelve weeks or so. Then you go back to your life in California, and I stay here with mine. That’s the reality we’re working with.”
Disappointment or maybe hurt flashed in her eyes. But she nodded. “That’s the reality. So what exactly happened yesterday?”
The question hung between us, loaded with possibility and danger. I could feel the pull of her, the magnetic force that had always existed between us. It would be so easy to close the distance, to kiss her again. But that was exactly the kind of thinking that would destroy me.
“I don’t know,” I admitted, my composure cracking slightly. “All I know is that yesterday, kissing you felt like the most natural thing in the world. It felt like coming home and losing my mind at the same time. And I can’t stop thinking about doing it again.”
Her breath caught. “Braden—”
“But I also know you’re going to leave,” I interrupted, forcing myself to stay on track. “Your whole life is in California. Your career, your future—it’s all there. Dove Key is just a research assignment for you. A temporary stop.”
“You don’t know that,” she said, but her voice lacked conviction.
“Don’t I? Tell me you haven’t already started thinking about your next project, your next paper, your next step up the academic ladder.”
Her head dropped for a moment before she met my gaze again.
“Fair enough. I wasn’t expecting you to kiss me.
But I can’t pretend I didn’t... that being with you again hasn’t been...
” She trailed off, searching for words. “You’re not the same person I left behind.
Seeing who you’ve become—it’s been good.
” She raised her gaze to meet mine. “I want to spend more time with you, and I hope you help with the project.”
I refused to give into the hope that wanted to take flight within me.
“Okay. Both of us agree that we enjoyed being together again. I was mad as hell at Eli for roping me into this, but I’m not anymore.
I want to keep working with you.” I swept my gaze around, a wave of wistfulness rising despite my trying to prevent it.
“I’ve missed this. Driving a boat. Diving. ”
“Your help would be invaluable. And I liked yesterday too. So what now?”
I met her green eyes and squared my shoulders, ruthlessly stomping on the nostalgia. “Here’s what I’m proposing. We acknowledge what’s between us. We don’t deny the chemistry, but we also don’t pretend it’s something it’s not.”
“Which is what, exactly?”
“Temporary,” I said again, the word a shield and a weapon all at once. “Whatever is between us has an expiration date. In a few months, you get on a plane back to California, and we both move on with our lives. No drama, no broken promises.”
Tessa stared at me for a long moment, and I could practically see the wheels turning in her head. She was weighing options, calculating risks, approaching this like the scientist she was. Finally, she spoke. “And in the meantime?”
“In the meantime, we see where this goes. But we’re both clear about the boundaries.”
“Boundaries. Such as?”
I hadn’t thought this far ahead, but I improvised. “Such as... we don’t make this more complicated than it needs to be.”
“Simple.” A faint smile raised her lips. “You want to keep a relationship with your ex-girlfriend simple in Dove Key.”
“I want to keep whatever this is from destroying both of us when it ends,” I corrected, determined to stay in charge. “Because it will end, Tessa. The only question is whether we’re going to spend those twelve weeks pretending we don’t want each other, or whether we’re going to be honest.”
She was close enough now that I could feel the warmth radiating from her skin. “Braden, what are you really asking me for?”
I could feel myself wavering, the careful walls I’d built overnight starting to crumble under the force of her proximity. But I couldn’t let them fall. Not completely. Not if I wanted to survive this.
“I’m asking for honesty,” I replied. “I’m asking for twelve weeks where we don’t lie to ourselves or each other about what we want. And when those twelve weeks are up, we both walk away clean.”
She studied my face for what felt like an eternity. Then she slowly nodded. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“I accept your terms.” She held out her hand, and I stared at it stupidly. “Three months. No complications. No promises beyond that.”
I took her hand, meaning to shake it, but the moment our skin touched, electricity shot up my arm. Her fingers were warm and slightly callused from her work, familiar and foreign all at once. Instead of shaking, I found myself holding her hand, my thumb tracing across her knuckles.
“There’s just one problem with your plan,” she said softly.
“What’s that?”
“We need to work together.” Her smile was small but dangerous. “Which means you’re going to be spending a lot of time in very close quarters with me. Are you sure you can handle that?”
The challenge in her voice sent heat coursing through me.
She was right, of course. I hadn’t talked to Eli, but there was no way he only needed me for one day.
And God knew he could use a hand with this project, so I might as well take over for him as the resort representative on the water.
The idea of spending hours with her in the close confines of diving gear, of being responsible for her safety, of sharing the profound silence of the underwater world...
“I can handle it,” I said, though my voice came out rougher than I’d intended. “Can you?”
A slow, wry smile finally broke the tension on her face.
It was the first unguarded smile I’d seen from her since she returned—real, warm, and utterly captivating.
She gently pulled her hand from mine. “Yes. But since we’ve just formally agreed to spend twelve weeks in dangerous, close quarters to protect both the reef and our emotional stability, it seems a bit silly to stand here arguing about it. ”
I ran a hand through my hair and grinned. “You’re right. It is silly. We should probably start with something less legally binding and less likely to result in drowning.”
“I agree.” Her eyes sparkled with a mix of relief and mischief as they held mine. “So what does a local with a sophisticated craft brewery do for fun when he’s not busy making twelve-week, no-strings proposals?”
I took a deep breath. The heat was still there, but now it was a slow burn, not an explosion.
“He takes the most interesting, overqualified woman on the island out on a date.” My voice dropped to the low, confident tone I used when I knew what I wanted. “A quiet place where we can talk without family opinions. Tonight. Six o’clock. We can figure out this simple thing one dinner at a time.”
“Dinner at six. I like the sound of that. It’s a nice, simple, easy-to-track logistical move.”
“It’s a date. Where are you staying?”
“I’ve got a beige, soul-sucking rental townhouse in the Mariner’s Key complex.” She paused, a humorous grimace on her face. “You can’t miss it. It looks like a manila file folder.”
I laughed, the sound of a glacier finally cracking. “I’ll rescue you from the beige box.”
“Not a moment too soon.”
I stepped back onto the pier, keeping space between us for self-preservation. “See you then, Dr. Donovan.”
She leaned against the helm, her eyes soft and full of dangerous possibility. “I look forward to it.”
I turned and walked away. The knot in my stomach had loosened, replaced by a reckless, nervous anticipation buzzing through my veins. I hadn’t settled anything. I had just traded a simple, safe no for a complicated, exhilarating maybe.
Three months. I could do three months.
Couldn’t I?