Page 19 of Better than Yesterday
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 thissimplething 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, safenofor a complicated, exhilaratingmaybe.
Three months. I could do three months.
Couldn’t I?
Chapter Eight
TESSA
The Corner Scoophad changed in twelve years, at least in some ways. I stood on the sidewalk, taking in the pastel pink exterior, the new sign with whimsical lettering, and the tourists inside. The sight triggered a rush of memories—summer nights with Lila, both of us sticky with melted ice cream and sunburned, convinced we had the whole world figured out. Turned out, we’d known nothing.
Needing to talk over my abrupt change in situation with someone, I’d texted Lila the moment Braden left the marina. My fingers flew across the screen.
