Page 49 of Hot Saltwater Kisses

“That would require him actually publishing his pictures,” Nia said.

“I’ve got a couple on the resort website,” I protested.

She pursed her lips in a way that conveyed just how weak an argument that was. “That would require you actually publishing your pictures somewherevisible.”

“Hey, maybe some high-powered magazine editor will come across them when booking a vacation,” Logan said. “You never know. Could be the first of many pictures you sell.”

“Sell?” Nia laughed. “Oh, no—not this one. Told him he should ask for a couple hundred bucks, but does he listen to me? No.”

Way to make me look like a doormat in front of the guy I was... something,anyway.

“I’m not a pushover.” A slice of tomato had slipped out of my wrap, and I picked it up and tossed it into the water. Some fish would have a grand old time with it. “But I took those photos on the job. It’s just the honest thing, letting the resort use them.”

“Kinda discounts the creative value, doesn’t it?” Tom asked.

“Huh.” That was Logan, sounding suddenly thoughtful as he squeezed my ankle. Even though it was hot, hot, andhot, I didn’t mind the contact. “Actually, Milo’s not wrong—it’s kind of ambiguous. I only took one course on intellectual property during my Art studies, but with stuff created during work hours, even if it’s with your own camera, the employer kind of has a claim. Unless it’s okayed in the contract.”

Nia’s face fell. “You’re kidding.”

“That’s bullshit,” Tom said around a bite.

“Hey, intellectual property laws are why artists mostly don’t get screwed.” Logan’s grin was fleeting. “It’s just that when you’re on the job, you’re on someone else’s dime. Like, it’s their sandbox, so they get to keep the castle.”

Did that mean...? Wow. It wasn’t like I’d had great plans for my pictures or anything, and I’d meant it—I did feel like the resort had a certain right to them. But full ownership? That was... something else.

I must have gone still because Logan gave my ankle another squeeze. “Listen.” His voice went low and firm. “It’s not set in stone, all right? Ask them to amend your contract—say, as long as it doesn’t interfere with the job, any pictures you take are yours but the resort can use them for promotion. Something like that. Mutually beneficial, right?”

I drew a breath and met his eyes. Blue-green hazel, shifting like the tide.

“Fuck,” Nia muttered, heartfelt. “Pretty sure that’s not something Ican approve. I mean, I can’t even post a job ad for a third person. And Richard’s been hovering more than usual, feels like.”

He’d gleefully demand my entire portfolio from the last three years. I tipped my head back against the railing and closed my eyes.Fuck.

“Maybe,” Logan said delicately, “it’s best to keep quiet for now. Managers change.”

“Yeah.” I blew a sharp breath through my nose. “Could take a while, but what he doesn’t know won’t harm me.”

“That’s the spirit,” Tom said, far more upbeat than the situation warranted. I pasted a weak smile onto my face and reminded myself that this didn’t really change anything. The only change was in how I’d been stripped of my ignorance.

Three, even two years ago, I would have beat myself up over my own stupidity. I’d trained myself to be kinder, though—or maybe Nia had trained me.‘Would you talk like that to a friend?’she’d ask.‘No? Then why do you do it to yourself?’

So. I’d overlooked something. It happened.

Didn’t mean I wanted Richard’s dirty paws all over my photos. But as long as I tucked them out of sight and stayed off his radar—well, no need to break the status quo.

Later that day,Logan suggested we drag some cushions from the pool furniture upstairs so we could sleep on the balcony, mosquitoes be damned. I agreed before I realized it reminded me of camping trips with my parents—rustling sleeping bags, open tent flaps, cool night air on my face, and a dying campfire nearby.

I hadn’t thought of that in years. Hadn’t let myself.

Wrapped up in shadows, Logan’s arm was warm around me, a vast sky arching above us, stars like sprinkles of salt on deep black fabric. It was my dad who’d taught me about constellations, a new one for each camping trip, where no city lights paled the stars.

“You know...” I slotted my fingers into the gaps between Logan’s,my voice hushed. “It’s kind of funny how being here—it can feel like you’re on a different planet, tropical island life and all. But then you look up at the night sky, and there’s the same old sea monster you saw back home.”

“Sea monster?” Logan’s question melted into the distant rhythm of the sea.

“Cetus, over there.” I raised our joined hands to point out the constellation, in a slow descent toward the horizon. “Basically, he was the original sea monster villain—tried to eat Andromeda and was turned to stone for his trouble.”

A smile showed in Logan’s voice. “Howcold.”

---