Page 12 of Better than Yesterday
“Yeah, you do,” I muttered, watching asSeahorserounded the point, Tessa’s silhouette visible at the helm. “Like cleaning the fermentation tanks for a solid year.”
Eli clapped me on the shoulder. “I’ll tell Tessa about this before I head out. Try not to look like you’re attending your own execution.”
Seahorseneared, a sturdy, wide-beamed vessel cutting a clean wake through the calm morning water. At the helm, a figure with dark-red hair pulled back in a tight knot stood silhouetted against the horizon. Tessa. She maneuvered the boat toward the pier with a practiced ease that annoyed me on a primal level.
Eli let out a low whistle beside me. “Well, she can handle a boat. You gotta give her that.”
“I don’t have to give her anything,” I grumbled, my gaze fixed on the approaching vessel.
As she cut the engine and glided the last few feet to the pier, Tessa’s expression was pure business. She wore a long-sleeved black rash guard and board shorts, and I did my best not to notice how the clinging fabric highlighted her curves. If she was nervous, she didn’t show it. Kaia was already on the bow, ready with the lines.
Eli stepped forward to take the line, his smile already working overtime. “Morning, team!” His voice was a little too loud for seven-thirty in the morning. He looped the line around a cleat. “Dr. Donovan, a word, if I may.”
Her eyes flickered to me for a second, her green gaze cool and unreadable, before settling on my brother. “Eli, it’s going to be a long three months if you keep calling me that. Tessa, please. Everything all right?”
“Tessa, it is. The day has gone a little sideways,” Eli said with a regretful grimace. “First, my apologies. Another instructor on the island is down with the flu from hell, and I have to step in to teach his certification class. Which means I won’t be the one with you underwater today.”
Tessa’s stare hardened. She glanced at her two assistants, then back at Eli. “Unfortunate, but we can adapt.”
“There is one other thing,” Eli continued, shifting his weight. “My wife, Jules—who doubles as our terrifyingly efficient CPA—reviewed the insurance policy. It turns out,because of the shallow approach and currents at Marker 22, our liability coverage requires a resort-certified senior guideinthe water. With me teaching, there’s only one person available who qualifies.”
Tessa’s lips pressed into a thin line.
He gestured toward me, that slightly too-bright smile still on his face. “My very generous brother has agreed to step in as your dive partner.”
As she absorbed the news, her professional mask didn’t slip, but her body stilled. She wasn’t any happier about this than I was. She was trapped too, and she knew it.
For a brief moment, I let myself enjoy her consternation.
“I see,” she said after a long, charged silence. Then she frowned. “Eli, this is technical work. Braden understands these waters—I know that firsthand. But I don’t want a recreational diver for my guide.”
I opened my mouth to snap back when Eli clamped a hand on my shoulder.
“He’s not some tourist, Tessa.” All traces of levity were gone now. “He’s a certified divemaster and pro. He even fills in on dive charters from time to time. I wouldn’t pawn you off on anyone who wasn’t qualified.”
Her eyes flicked back to me, and I held them in a hard stare.
She understood the implication. This wasn’t a choice. It was a non-negotiable term of her contract with the resort. And I was more than qualified.
She gave a single, sharp nod. “Okay. We’ll make it work.”
Eli finally relaxed. “Fantastic! I knew you would be the soul of reason.” He flashed his trademark smile once again, that big-brother defensiveness gone now.
Tessa shot me another guarded look, and I sent its equivalent right back.
Eli pointed to half a dozen tanks lined up. “I’ll leave you to the logistics, then. My students await.”
With a wave, he was gone, a whirlwind of diplomatic charm leaving a battlefield in his wake. The silence that descended was thick and heavy. Zane broke it by stepping forward, all youthful, by-the-book confidence.
“Tessa, per our plan, I’ll start loading tanks and gear ontoSeahorsenow,” he said, looking at me as if I were a dockhand.
A gust blew in my face again, and this time the reality hit me full-on. The wind had changed direction. I groaned inwardly as I quickly assessedSeahorseand her big fat ass. Then my gaze darted to our family boat, tied down the pier away from the bigger charter boats. The boat Tessa and I had spent a lot of time on.
Zane droned on, oblivious, “We’ll anchor fifty yards up-current from the primary transect point, and?—”
“That plan won’t work,” I cut in, my voice flat.
Zane stopped, his mouth half-open. Tessa’s eyes narrowed, and challenge flickered in their green depths.
