Page 11 of Hot Saltwater Kisses

“Is he.” Not a question, more a thoughtful statement, and I flashed back to Logan’s little theory about how happy employees made for happy guests. The Richard school of thought wasn’t diametrically opposed—nothing that crass. It simply didn’t relate the two aspects.

He was currently detailing why Frankie’s lineup of syrups looked unappealing to guests and that it should disappear into a cabinet. I glanced from the aggravated set of Frankie’s shoulders to Logan, a curious smile propped into a corner of his lips. Hmm, now there was a thought. Would Logan play ball? I turned it over in my mind for a second before I let my mouth curve into a sly grin.

“Say, Logan—how do you feel about the comfort of your bed?”

AndI’d just sounded like I was making a pass at him. That part hadn’t occurred to me until the words were out. Bright mischief sparked in his eyes, but he sobered before I could even think to clarify. His sharp gaze flicked from me to Richard, and back. “That mattress is too damn soft. And my pillow, man. Had me waking up with a crick in my neck this morning.”

He was quick, I had to give him that. I smiled. “Seems like it warrants a discussion with the manager.”

Frankie’s voice rose clear over the house remix of a familiar pop song just as Logan widened his eyes, all innocence. “You’re saying I should bring my best entitled guest persona?”

“It’s either that or I accidentally pour some G&T on my boss. I kinda like having a job.” I nodded my chin at Richard. “So, you know. Knock yourself out.”

“Don’t mind if I do.” Logan rolled back his shoulders and firmed his expression. With a haughty smile, he strolled past me and towards where Richard was leaning against the bar. Logan tapped him on the shoulder. “Excuse me?” Nothing in his voice suggested he was sorry. “Name’s Logan Fox. There’s a problem with my cabin. Milo here”—a dismissive wave at me—“said you’re the manager of this place?”

He was a decent actor. But now that I knew what to look for, I caught him shifting his stance, his hard gaze meeting Richard’s for just a moment before he let it sweep over the bar.

Richard straightened like a string puppet, his face a mask of forced cheer. “Richard Berring, yes—that’s me. We pride ourselves on exceeding expectations day by day. So why don’t we sit down and see how we can fix this?”

“Let’s,” Logan said briskly. He turned to lead the way without bothering to check whether Richard was following. For a beat, my attention clung to Logan’s broad shoulders and the perky swell of his ass—nothing wrong with a little window shopping.

I averted my eyes just in time to catch the barely suppressed outrage that twitched around Richard’s eyes. He cast a brief, scrutinizing glance back at me. A flicker of something—suspicion? Annoyance?—passed over his face before he turned his attention back to Logan.

Yeah, man. Not so fun when you’re the one getting bossed around, huh?

I bit my cheek against a smile.

Around ten thirty,things slowed to the point where Frankie could handle the bar alone, so I called it a night. The wistful notes of a saxophone trailed me as I followed a footpath lit in a dim golden glow. Through the thick tangle of trees, guest cabins glimmered like distant stars, among them one I’d once shared with my parents.Before.

Nia was sprawled on the couch when I made it back, TV on mute, her phone in one hand, the other reaching into a bag of chips.

“I thought you quit,” I said because we’d made a deal to encourage healthy habits in each other.

“Like you didn’t have one of Luis’s pastries this morning.”

“Just doing my bit in supporting the local economy.”

She huffed, but her comeback got derailed when her phone lit up. While she read the message, I kicked off my sandals, then shoved her feet off the couch to make space for myself.

I tipped my head back and stifled a yawn. “Your sister?”

“Yeah.” Nia typed out a response before she continued, relief coating her tone. “Seems her levels are finally back to normal.”

“Hey, that’s great.” I nudged our feet together. “So, you figure out yet how you’re gonna con Richard into approving a holiday?”

Nia nudged back. “No. But Meghan isn’t due for another month—I’ve still got time. Wouldn’t be such a problem if Richard stopped dragging his feet and finally hired us that third person.”

“Anything to make your life difficult. And mine, by extension.”

“Sharing is caring.”

Easy silence settled while some show zoomed in on a woman’s dramatic expression. It’d be smart to turn in soon, long day and all, only that would require getting off this couch. And for all that it stemmed from roughly the time when Romans had ruled the world, it was really fucking comfortable. It had an ass-shaped dent with my name on it.

“How’s Katie doing?” Nia asked after a minute. She must have jumped from her own family to the only person who still came anywhere near close for me.

“Busy,” I said. “Kicked out some guy she was seeing, but the dive center is thriving.”

“You could visit her sometime.” Nia’s tone was deliberately light, and it wasn’t the first time she’d suggested a trip back home. I’d always shot her down.

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