Page 8 of Hot Saltwater Kisses

“Please don’t,” I told him, just enough of a bite to show I meant business.

He squinted at me before his gaze slid away, chin dipping in acquiescence. “I’ll still carry my own stuff,” he said. “If anyone asks, tell them I insisted.”

“Suit yourself.” I paused, then sighed. “And thanks, I guess.”

A smile danced in his eyes. “Sound less grateful, I dare you.”

I shot him a tiny grin in response. Yes, I appreciated him saving me a trip up the stairs; no, it didn’t equal instant forgiveness.

We didn’t speak as we made our trudging way up to the dive shop—seventy-eight steps, to be precise. I’d counted them many, many times. The wind had picked up, rustling in the trees and making pink and purple hibiscus blossoms dance. I was used to the exercise, yet Logan seemed hardly more out of breath than me when we arrived at the shop. Probably worked with a personal trainer, daily exercise in his home gym, that sort of thing.

Just another rich kid.

Nia foundthe whole thing hilarious. Of course she did.

I told her the story while we carried the snorkeling equipment up to the shop. Her guests had all dashed to their respective cabins as soon as the boat had docked, rain pouring down in thick, silvery strings. It had eased up by now, but I was still blinking water out of my eyes, clothes dripping a trail to the basins we used to wash equipment.

“Come on, it’s a tiny bit funny,” Nia said. She lined a parade of fins up to dry while I hung the wetsuits her group had used. “No harm done, right?”

“Other than making me feel like an idiot, you mean?” I kept my voice flat, but something in it caught her attention anyway.

“Oh,Milo.” Sympathy coated my name. “I’m sure that wasn’t his intention. Look at it from his perspective—he didn’t know us from Adam when he walked up, so it sure wasn’t personal. Just a bored bloke with too much time and money on his hands, who thought it’d be a fun thing to do.”

I let the words settle as rain whispered against the cabin. “You think I’m overreacting.”

“I think you’ve been burned by a self-serving, manipulativebastard, and it’s made you extremely sensitive to certain things. Which is understandable.”

“So I am overreacting.”

Nia moved her hand in a seesawing gesture. “Let’s give Logan the benefit of the doubt, is all I’m saying. I ran into Des earlier—he’s been assigned to Logan’s cabin. Apparently, he’ll be here for a full month while he’s working on his master’s thesis. Sharing with a friend.”

I snorted. “Living the student life, huh? Drink all the booze, write all the papers, stay at a five-star resort in the Caribbean while you do it... Just your average college experience.”

“Seems like.” Nia started hooking snorkels over a line so they’ddry. “Anyway, Des told me to go the extra mile for Logan. Says he’s a good lad.”

Des didn’t commonly sing a guest’s praises, but it wasn’t entirely unexpected. As Logan’s personal butler, he had a vested interest in making Logan’s stay exceptionally pleasant—it would directly relate to how big a tip Des could expect at the end.

Compared to the rest of us, butlers were raking it in. I still wouldn’t want to trade places. While juggling four or five cabins at once didn’t sound like a whole lot, the reality was that people like Des had to be available to guests’ whims at all hours and respond to requests within minutes, never far from their phones. A bottle of champagne at two in the morning? Why, of course! Pickup by shuttle cart because it’s raining? Be there in five! Run a bath with water imported from the Alps? Nothing easier than that!

I’d rather carve my eyeballs out of their sockets. With a rustyspoon.

“One,” I said, “Des benefits from us going the extra mile for Logan. And two—‘a good lad’? Did you just step fresh out of Downton Abbey?”

“Just quoting Des. Personally, I’d describe Logan as fit like a butcher’s dog.” Nia’s smirk was softened by a touch of lingering concern in her eyes. “I wouldn’t kick him out of bed for eating crisps, that’s for sure.”

I bit the inside of my cheek to stifle a laugh. “You need to get laid, woman.”

“Look who’s talking.”

“I’m fine.” Yeah, it had been a while, but I didn’t get out of the resort much—a few undercover hookups with tourists I’d met at the bar summed up my escapades. My right hand was a sure thing, though.

“Of course you are,” Nia said, and if there was just a hint of doubt woven into her reassurance, I chose to ignore it.

3

Iwas running late. Story of my life.

“You’re late,” Leroy said.

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