Page 68 of Hot Saltwater Kisses

But…

A thesis in Hospitality Management that dealt with how to improve things around here. Richard being a subject in Logan’s analysis. A cousin who was already running hotels in Europe.

‘There’s stuff we should talk about. About us, yeah? And me. Things you should know.’

Logan had been here to christen theBlueberry Seas. Because he’d named it? No—his cousin. The blond guy in my photo? Probably. God, it was like a Rubik’s Cube, all colors suddenly slotting into place.

Prescott. Logan fuckingPrescott.

God, of course. It seemed laughably obvious now, like I’d been staring straight at the answer this whole damn time, blinded by his stupid smile and perfect abs. And he’d let me. He’dletme trip along, thinking he considered us… what? Equals? Fucking spare me. His whole spiel about the future? Yeah, right. That future was a joke, and I was his punchline.

My fault for missing it. But his for the lie.

“I didn’t know.” Each word weighed heavy like a stone, the taste of ashes on my tongue.

“Makes two of us.” Richard shrugged, all what-can-you-do but for the acidity in his voice. “Imagine my surprise when his uncle called me just now.”

Right. Because they were putting Logan in charge. That’s what Richard had said, right? A wave of dizziness swept over me, gravity pulling at my hollow bones.

“If you fire me…” I didn’t care—in fact, I welcomed it. Not like I wanted to hang around a place owned by Logan’s family. Fucking the new boss, or whatever it was that they planned for Logan? Yeah, that might be a new low. But it wasn’t all about me. “Nia can’t run this place alone.”

“You think I give a fuck?” Richard shook his head, eyes sharp. “Might as well take you down with me.”

It hadn’t clicked until now—his claim that I’d turned Logan against him. Right, sure. Logan had kept a close eye on Richard from the start, certainly didn’t need my help to figure out the guy was a train wreck. But if Richard wanted to deflect his own mess onto me, fine, go for it.

“I’ll go pack,” I managed and turned away. Head held high in disgrace. Not about to let fuckingRichardsee me cracking apart at the seams.

One foot in front of the other.

Maybe Richard called after me, maybe he didn’t. Nothing made it past the rush in my ears. Then the shop draped its well-worn smells around me—the slightly musty odor of rubber and neoprene, the constantly lingering scent of saltwater. The compressor perched in its corner like a slumbering beast.

I trudged up the stairs, hands shaking as I forced the apartment door open. Might be the last time. God, but this washome. And now? Nothing. Miami? Maybe.

‘Do you think you’re still running?’

Fuck you, Logan.

Exiled from exile—hilarious. Only I wasn’t laughing. Just stood there, on the threshold of my matchbox room, and had no idea where to start. I should pack. I should talk to Nia. I should call Katie, see if I could crash on her couch again like the pathetic return of a bad sitcom.

The mattress gave under my weight, walls spinning madly until I blinked and clamped a hand around my knee, nails digging into skin. Fuck, I was a mess. The world map on my door felt like a sarcastic slap in the face. I’d shared my silly dreams of far-flung travels whileLogan hadn’t even bothered with the basics. Each colorful pin winked at me, now just one more place I could run to.

Christ,again? My breath hitched.

Fucking Logan. He’d played me, revealing just enough to keep me hooked with shimmering glimpses at his life—childhood crushes and exes, rebel years and family battles. Was any of it even true? Or had he just pulled it out of his ass, making things up on the fly, who the fuck cares when it’s just a holiday fling, right?

My pulse pounded, anger burning bright-white through the shock. This wasn’t me, not anymore. I didn’t just lie back and take it. No, fuck that. Fine, so maybe a punch to his stupid, perfect face wouldn’t fix my ego, but it’d sure be therapeutic.

If he thought he could slip away easily? Well.Surprise,asshole.

The resort’smanicured beauty felt like a mockery.Another day in paradise, people! The escape you deserve!

Fuck it. Fuck all of it.

Blind fury propelled me along the sun-drenched path, so dizzy with it that I damn near stumbled into a golf cart. It whizzed past, wheels rumbling on the wooden planks and guests cheering like they were in theFast and Furious: Resort Edition. I skipped my mandatory nod-and-smile routine. No point. I sure as hell wasn’t in a smiling mood, and anyway, I didn’t even work here anymore. Oh God.I did not work here anymore.

Panic bubbled up. I stamped it down, clenched my jaw, and kept moving.

Butterflies danced around hibiscus blossoms, zigzagging like drunkards stumbling home from the bar. Drunk on nectar. I felt drunk too, mind staggering, taunting me with fractured memories. Logan’s ever-shifting eyes and how I’d joked about doing shots out of his dimples, soft touches and kisses that melted like sea mist or burned like embers, twisted sheets and—andstop. None of it meant anything. Logan was aliar.

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