His mouth was warm and sure against mine, one hand coming up to cup my face. I melted into him, my fingers finding the front of his shirt and closing around it. For a moment the whole world narrowed to the taste of him and the way we kissed like we’d been wanting to for longer than either of us would admit.
We sprang apart at the same time, both of us staring at each other wide-eyed. Twelve years of history collided, and neither of us knew what to do next. My lips tingled, and I had to resist the urge to rub my fingers over them.
What just happened? What do I do now?
Panic tried to dig a hole through my stomach, and all I could think of was escape.
“See you later,” I fumbled hastily, then spun around and hurried away before he could respond.
Behind me, the door closed with a soft click, but I didn’t turn around. I couldn’t. Because if I looked back and saw him behind the window watching me leave, I wasn’t sure I’d have the strength to keep going.
The walk back to my townhouse was endless and yet over in an instant. The beige walls and generic furniture were even more lifeless after the warmth and personality of Tidal Hops, after seeing what Braden had built with his own hands and imagination.
I sat at my kitchen table, staring at my laptop screen without really seeing it, replaying every moment of the afternoon. The way he’d lit up when talking about his brewing process. The interest he’d shown in my research. The moment at the door when the air between us had crackled with possibility. The warmth of his lips.
The memory of a kiss that was familiar and yet completely new.
Most of all, I kept thinking about what he’d said—that staying didn’t mean settling. That it was possible to build something meaningful in Dove Key, something that belonged to this place and nowhere else.
For twelve years, I’d told myself that leaving was the only option, that meaningful work required prestigious institutions and global recognition. But what if I’d been wrong? What if the most important work—the work that actually changed things—happened in places like this, with people who understood that impact didn’t always correlate with accolades?
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 builtbetween 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 wheeldespite 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 ofSeahorse, 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.
