Awakened by the CEO's Kiss

by Therese Beharrie

  ‘What?’ she asked flatly. ‘Please, tell me. I don’t think... I think these little bursts of shock are worse than you laying it all out for me. So just...just tell me.’

  He nodded. ‘The kiss didn’t happen the night your husband died. It was a week after. We saw one another every day for dinner in the days leading up to...it. For that whole week.’ Though he looked uncomfortable, he didn’t shift. ‘We’d look up places the day before and meet there the next evening. We didn’t have each other’s numbers. We knew one another’s names, but that was the only personal information we shared. Mostly we spoke about random but meaningful things. Or we made the kind of ridiculous observations that you’d only feel comfortable making with a stranger.’

  He paused. She wasn’t sure if it was to take a breath or to give her a moment to process. If it were the latter, she should tell him not to bother. She currently only had the mental space to receive information. Understanding that information, emotionally or mentally, would require energy and a presence of mind that she didn’t have.

  So she waited. And when it became clear that she wasn’t going to speak—it seemed he had been waiting for her to process—he continued.

  ‘It was a good week. For me,’ he clarified. ‘I thought for you, too. Especially when we...’ the slightest hesitation ‘...kissed. Hell, that’s why the kiss happened. But then you disappeared. I didn’t see you again until a month ago. And I thought—’

  ‘You thought I hadn’t felt what you felt,’ she said, seeing it now. ‘You thought I was ignoring everything that had happened between us because I didn’t feel the same way. That’s why you didn’t say anything.’

  He sucked in his bottom lip, but nodded. ‘And then last week, when you told me you had amnesia, I realised... I realised it wasn’t a choice.’

  ‘And that it had nothing to do with you or your ego.’ Abruptly, she pushed her chair back. His eyes widened, but she was walking away before he could say anything. Before her mind could catch up with what her body was doing.

  ‘Brooke!’

  He called after her, but she didn’t respond. Only kept walking. Likely because some part of her knew that he would have to stay behind, sort out the bill. It wouldn’t give her hours—in hindsight, she should have come with her own car—but it would give her enough time to figure out how her lungs worked again.

  She rushed down the stairs, clutching at the railing when she almost fell on the last two steps, then walked towards the vineyard, metres from the building. When she reached the entrance, she ran. Not her smartest idea, considering she was wearing a white dress and sandals. But she didn’t care about calling herself smart when she was only trying to survive the onslaught of feelings Tyler’s words had awoken in her.

  She’d described it as an earthquake before, but that had been in terms of them. That wasn’t the only thing his revelation had affected. It was an earthquake for all the emotions she’d thought she’d worked through since Kian’s death. If she looked at them now, it seemed she had merely been stacking them neatly, and now, with this earthquake, they were falling over. Coming to crush her, really, like an avalanche rushing down a hill. And, like any person on that hill, she had no hope of dodging it, only delaying it.

  She could only delay it for so long.

  She dropped to her knees, not caring that dirt caked the material of her dress. The only thing she cared about was the fact that she was far enough away from the restaurant that no one would see her unless they were standing on the balcony. And if her own actions on that balcony were anything to go by, whoever stood there now wouldn’t be paying attention to a sobbing woman crouching in the dirt.

  Sobbing? She lifted her hand and realised that there were, indeed, tears coming down her face. But her lungs were working again, which surely was a good sign. So what if her breathing wasn’t optimal? So what if that rush of in-out, in-out meant panic and anxiety and not normal, functioning human organs?

  ‘Brooke.’

  She groaned, sitting back on the ground and bringing her knees up so she could hide her face in between them.

  ‘Do you...do you want me to go?’

  ‘What would make you think that? The fact that I literally ran away from you? Or the fact that I’m crying in the middle of a field of grapes?’

  She said all those words between inhalations and exhalations of air, between splutters and hiccups, and all from between her knees. So when she felt Tyler sit down next to her, she thought she might not have delivered the words as concisely and as sharply as she’d intended to.

  ‘I figure whatever you’re saying means yes, you’d like me to go.’

  Perhaps she had delivered the words that way.

  ‘And I will,’ he continued, ‘as soon as I’m sure you won’t get killed out here in the middle of nowhere.’

  ‘Killed?’ she repeated, lifting her head. ‘Really?’

  He shrugged, but his eyes were soft. ‘I wanted to say as soon as I’m sure you’re okay, but I didn’t think you’d be receptive to that.’

  ‘But I’d be receptive to the prospect of murder?’

  ‘You’re not crying any more.’

  She did a mental check, and of course, he was right. She sucked in her lips and rested her chin on her knees. Then she turned her head and rested her cheek there instead. It was more comfortable. It also had the added benefit of allowing her not to look at Tyler.

  To his credit, he didn’t bother her. Apart from with his presence, which always had some kind of an effect on her. That attraction, the electricity... She hated it now. Hated the overwhelming awareness that he was here and Kian was not.

  She shut her eyes, but the thought had already brought more tears. Silent, thankfully. In fact, it was much less dramatic than running into a field and sobbing. But her hysteria had hidden the deepest factor in all of this. The thing that had caused the drama, ironically.

  The betrayal. Because heaven—and likely Kian—knew that she had betrayed him.

  And she couldn’t remember it.

  She wanted to call her psychologist and ask whether that made it better or worse. Maybe it was the reason for her memory loss. That kind of betrayal would have been deeply traumatic to her, especially if her husband had just died.

  She could already hear her psychologist’s voice, pointing out how she had had both physical and emotional trauma, and that both of those things were already adequate explanations. But how did that account for her actions after Kian’s death? Hadn’t she remembered the accident and everything else then? Dom had told her she’d handled everything in a daze, but she’d handled it.

  Someone who didn’t remember her husband, who didn’t know what she was doing, wouldn’t have done that.

  Did that mean she’d remembered Kian but started dating a stranger? Had it been some kind of grieving process?

  Even the idea of it was abhorrent to her. She hadn’t dated in five years as part of her grieving process. Falling for someone immediately after Kian’s death didn’t seem likely.

  So what had happened?

  Slowly, she turned her head to Tyler. He wasn’t looking at her. He was affording her as much privacy as he could, apparently. He must have sensed that she was looking at him though, because he turned then, holding her eyes.

  And even in that moment, even in her turmoil, she felt it. A gentle tug in the pit of her belly, a fluttering in the region of her heart. It was awareness, and attraction, but neither felt dirty nor shameful, though in the circumstances, both should have.

  Maybe this was it. This was the reason she had agreed to have coffee with him. There was a pull between them that defied logic and circumstance. Something that had nothing to do with choice or agency. Something inevitable.

  She wanted to ask him questions, to find out the nature of the relationship that had led to that kiss. But all she could do was shut her eyes and press them into
her knees.

  Because she had just realised she was in love with him, and it was a hell of a time for that.

  * * *

  ‘You’re not supposed to be here. Nyle is still sick and—’

  ‘Tia,’ Tyler interrupted.

  He didn’t intend it to come out as a plea, but he couldn’t think of any other intention when he actually heard his own tone of voice.

  Leaning into it, he added, ‘Please.’

  Tia’s eyes swept over his face, then she stepped outside. ‘Nyle’s sleeping at the moment, but I’m not sure how long that’ll last. He’s feeling better, and apparently I’ve gone back to having a ninja in training in my house.’

  ‘A ninja in training?’ His mouth curved, despite the rawness that had had him driving to his sister’s house after dropping Brooke at home. ‘Your words or his?’

  ‘His,’ she replied dryly. ‘Once we get through this, I’ll have to talk to him about putting limitations on his dreams. He could be a ninja, not just one in training.’

  ‘At least he’s being realistic.’

  ‘He’s five. I’m not sure that’s the lesson I want to teach the kid.’

  ‘That’s why you’re such a great mom.’

  Her eyes narrowed a fraction. ‘Your face looks like you’ve witnessed a murder and you’re complimenting me? Something must be wrong.’

  He didn’t bother to answer, only sank down in front of the door. It meant he was sitting directly on the pathway that led to the door from the garage.

  Tia lived in the house their mother had bought once the divorce from their father had been finalised. She hadn’t paid off the mortgage before her death, but Tyler had taken care of that, and when Nyle had arrived, he’d signed his share of the house over for his nephew to inherit when he was old enough. It had been the only help Tia had accepted, and he was fairly certain the only reason she had was because she had still been grieving their mother.

  He could remember the days when he’d come out the house to see his mother struggling with groceries. She would never call for him, and he would always ask why she hadn’t. Her answer would be a look. A look said, I can do this by myself. And, sure, she could—but she hadn’t had to. That had been his mother’s greatest flaw, and it was one Tia seemed to have inherited.

  He hadn’t though. When he’d dropped Brooke off and she’d left the car with only a murmur of thanks, he’d known he needed someone. And the only person he had was Tia.

  That was why he couldn’t leave. Certainly not for the other side of the world. But he couldn’t handle thinking about that now. He’d deal with it later. Right now, he was panicking about something entirely different.

  ‘Let me guess,’ Tia said, lowering herself down next to him. ‘This is about our boss.’

  His head whipped towards her. ‘How did you know? Also—our?’

  ‘Technically, she’s my boss, but in reality she’s yours. Besides, she texted me to ask for your number. Did you not think I’d put two and two together?’

  ‘You were suspiciously quiet about that.’

  ‘I was dealing with a sick kid.’

  ‘When has that ever stopped you?’

  ‘Maybe I knew that you’d pitch up at my door, desperate for my guidance.’

  She wasn’t being entirely snarky—although with Tia, that was always a factor. There was also a sincerity that made him wonder what she’d seen to make her respond this way.

  ‘Am I that bad at relationships?’ he asked.

  ‘I don’t know,’ she answered honestly. ‘That’s why I expected you to come to me. Not because I’m in any way an expert at relationships, as you well know, but because...’ She looked out at the road in front of them where a couple of kids were kicking a ball back and forth. ‘When you need advice, you ask. It’s one of the things I admire most about you.’

  He didn’t give himself time to enjoy his surprise. ‘Go on.’

  She stuck her tongue out. ‘If you had any real friends, you’d probably go to them—’

  ‘Ah, there it is. I knew the compliments wouldn’t last.’

  ‘But the people you call friends are mostly colleagues and you wouldn’t go to any of them about something you consider personal.’

  She wasn’t wrong.

  ‘And since Mom has died, that leaves me. So, how can I help?’

  ‘After everything you’ve just said, I shouldn’t want your help.’

  ‘But you need it.’

  He sighed. He did need it. So he told her everything, from the moment he’d seen Brooke in that coffee shop. He didn’t stop until he reached today. He left out anything physical—he didn’t need his little sister knowing about that—as well as Brooke crying in the middle of the vineyard.

  He wasn’t sure why, but that felt as if it were a secret. His or hers, he didn’t know. But it felt precious that he’d seen her so raw, so vulnerable, and he couldn’t bear the idea of sharing that moment with anyone else.

  It didn’t even matter that seeing her had broken his heart. Had made him want to build a wall around her so she never had to face anything that would upset her so much again. Even him. He considered it a privilege that she’d been so open with him and he wouldn’t do anything to betray that trust.

  So he merely ended by telling Tia that Brooke had been upset. That he had been, too, and that was why he was there.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Tia said, curling her fingers around his. ‘I’m sorry you’re sad and I’m sorry that this relationship is so complicated. You don’t deserve it.’

  ‘Don’t I?’ he asked bitterly.

  ‘You don’t. You helped Mom take care of us. You took care of me. You still help me and Nyle.’ She squeezed his hand. ‘You deserve only good things, Tyler. You’ve spent a lifetime earning good karma.’

  Maybe I’ve cancelled it out these last few months. By wanting to expand my business and to leave you and Nyle to fend for yourselves. I want it more every time I think of it. Despite knowing what Dad did. Despite not wanting to put myself first like he did, I’m still considering it.

  It would have been so easy to say it. To finally be honest. But, coward that he was, he didn’t. He only squeezed her hand back and allowed himself to lie, telling himself it was because he was focusing on one disaster at a time.

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ he said. ‘This job will be over in a week and it won’t be a problem any more.’

  ‘Won’t it?’ Tia asked lightly. ‘Since when does running away from your problems make them any easier to deal with? I’m asking that sincerely,’ she added, ‘because I’ve been running for five years, yet I still think about the lying piece of crap that gave me the most beautiful gift in the world.’

  He softened. ‘It’s because he gave you that gift.’

  ‘No,’ she denied. ‘It’s because there’s still a part of me that loves him. And you don’t have to say it. I know I’m an idiot.’

  ‘I’ve spent five years comparing anyone I was even remotely interested in to a woman I didn’t see again after she literally ran away from our kiss. I’m the last person to judge.’

  They fell into silence. He didn’t know what Tia was thinking about, but he was thinking about all the mistakes he’d made since he’d been reunited with Brooke. If he’d maintained a professional relationship with her...if he’d been honest with her upfront...if he’d asked her why she’d run after their kiss...

  There had been so many opportunities to alter where they had ended up now, only he had been too in love to take them.

  He should be surprised by that revelation, but he wasn’t. The feeling had been there for longer than he’d realised. He’d been like a frog in heating water, not realising he was being boiled until it was too late to escape. But even if he had realised it, he wasn’t certain he would have escaped. He had enjoyed that heating water too much, just like he’d enjoy
ed the falling.

  Spending time with Brooke. Getting to know her mind, her humour, her heart. He wouldn’t have sacrificed that even to save himself from the inevitable heartbreak. Because it would be inevitable. They had no future. They couldn’t when their past together was an obstacle between them. When her past would keep her from moving forward.

  He didn’t resent it. It was a part of her life and he didn’t want her to ignore it for the sake of his comfort. Especially not when he had his own past to consider. His own obstacles.

  What would happen if he left South Africa? If by some miracle he actually went to London and worked towards his dreams? Would he leave Brooke behind? Would he leave a woman he loved behind? How could he claim to be better than his father if he did that?

  ‘What do you want, Tyler?’ Tia asked, interrupting his thoughts. ‘In an ideal world, what would you want?’

  ‘Her,’ he answered honestly, despite all the reasons he’d told himself he couldn’t have her. ‘I’d want a life with her. She’s smart and funny. Sweet.’ He smiled, thinking about her and Mochi. ‘She has a dog she thinks hates her because she can’t give him the love he deserves, even though it’s clear he adores her and she gives him more love than she knows. She works hard. She has this special project she’s working on and she loves her job. And...’ He trailed off, his mind finally catching up to his mouth. ‘But I can’t have her.’

  ‘Because she doesn’t feel the same way?’

  ‘Because we have too many obstacles in the way of being happy together.’

  His sister was quiet for a while. ‘Seems to me that if you feel the way you do, and she feels that way, too, the biggest obstacle is already out of the way. The first and most logical step now would be to figure out if she thinks you’re smart and funny and sweet and all those other things. Doubtful, but you’ve got to try.’

  She bumped his shoulder to show she was teasing. He already knew that. What he couldn’t fathom was why her advice made him feel better. Even if Brooke did feel the same way, he’d just told himself why it didn’t matter. So why did it feel so urgent to know?