Page 25 of Hot Saltwater Kisses

“Listen, Milo.” Logan’s voice dipped on my name, his face serious as he placed his half-eaten toast back on the plate we shared. “There’s something I should?—”

“Coffee?” Nia asked right at that moment. She set down a box with snorkeling gear. “Pleasetell me there’s coffee.”

I hadn’t noticed her coming up the stairs, and the same appeared true for Logan as he blinked before his expression eased into a smile. “There is,” he said.

“It’s from the staff kitchen, though,” I added. “So more like a weak attempt at mildly caffeinated water.”

“Don’t care.” She sagged onto the bench next to me and made grabby hands for my cup. “Gimme.”

Logan snorted, not unkindly. “You two really do spend a lot of time together, huh?”

“We’re like an old married couple,” I said, handing Nia my coffee. She ducked her head over it and inhaled deeply, lids fluttering shut. Drama queen.

“Yup. Except Milo’s gay and I don’t do commitment.”

“What’s wrong with relationships?” Logan asked.

“Look, it’s like with pets.” She shot him a lopsided grin, sunlight catching flecks of amber in her dark eyes. “I’ll happily give them a head scratch or take them for a walk—but at the end of the day, I’d rather someone else cleans up after them.”

Logan’s soft whistle blended with the high-pitched chirp of a hummingbird. “Seems like you killed romance and buried the body.”

“I’ll believe in love when I see it,” Nia said. “So far, the evidence seems shaky.” Unlike me, she couldn’t point to a bad experience that had made her wary—she’d tried dating a few times and no one had held her interest.

“Kind of like quarks?” Logan asked.

Nia tilted her head to study him, one arched eyebrow suggesting he’d just climbed a few rungs on her ladder of respect. I resisted the impulse to kick the side of her foot—even if Logan weren’t gay, she’d never mess with my messes. Not that Logan wasmine.

“No, that’s science. Love, though?” She took another quick sip of my coffee before handing it back. “I think it’s mostly chemical reactions and social expectations masquerading as something deeper. If it wasn’t for Hollywood and romance novels spoon-feeding us, most people wouldn’t know love from a hole in the ground.”

“But it resonates.” Logan leaned forward, a playful glint dancing in his eyes. “Across time and cultures. So maybe it’s art imitating life, and not the other way around?”

Jesus, how had we landed ourselves in the middle of a philosophical debate that much smarter people than us hadn’t been able to settle? If my vague recollection of high school lessons was anything to go by, ancient Greeks had about a million different words for love. Also, I was pretty sure the painkiller was starting to wear off.

“Shall we get back to real problems?” I asked. “Like, say, the true meaning of pineapple on pizza.”

“It’s a tropical vacation for your palate,” Logan said without missing a beat.

I considered this. “But it makes the base go soggy.Tragedy, Logan.”

“You know,” Nia said with a sudden smile, “maybe we should settle this over a pizza dinner in Roseau. The three of us and Tom—what do you say?”

Hot damn, she wassneaky.

“How about something a little more local?” Logan replied before I could recover from the prospect of a double date. “We can do pizza any day at home. Stewed frog, though?Nowwe’re talking.”

“Mountain Chicken?” Look at me, actually taking part in this conversation. Usingwords. “Afraid you won’t find that quite so easily anymore—the frog’s endangered, so it’s off the menu.”

“Eh, we’ll find something else. Too bad for the frog, though.” Logan pursed his lips in apparent sorrow, and God, I just… liked him. Which made a double date a terrible idea. Especially when this was a small island and anyone could see us. And, just—terribleidea, yes.

So why couldn’t I bring myself to stop this madness?

It didn’t occurto me until much later—after we’d finished breakfast and Logan and I were done sorting through his photos, after he’d left to work on his thesis—that he’d been about to tell me something right as Nia arrived.

Well. It probably wasn’t important.

7

Since Nia and I couldn’t simply drive off the resort grounds with Logan and Tom, we met them right at the restaurant. The air hung thick with the aroma of spices and fried plantains as we stepped into the tiny restaurant, tucked away on a narrow side street in Roseau. Mismatched wooden chairs hugged tables draped in bright floral oilcloth, and a ceiling fan whirred overhead. It did little to combat the humidity.

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