“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. Kaiaand 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 chemistryanymore. We were managing a relationship that threatened to consume us both.
Simple.
Except nothing about this was simple.
