Page 18 of Hot Saltwater Kisses

“For my second degree, yeah. Art was my first one.” His shrug conveyed a hint of self-deprecation. “Mostly fucked around with that, to be honest. Just picked something that I liked. Great parties, though.”

Tom laughed as he handed back my phone. “Until his parents read him the riot act. Told him to stop wasting his time and their money.”

“Yeah, well.” Logan dipped his head for another sip of his drink, something somber passing over his face before he smiled. “Not all of us can be working on a PhD in Mathematics. Have some sympathy for mere mortals like me.”

“Seriously?” Nia asked Tom, and uh-oh, I recognized that twinge of interest in her voice. She had a healthy appreciation for eye candy, but intelligence was her kryptonite.

“What can I say?” Tom grinned. “I’m kind of a big deal.”

Logan blew an amused breath through his nose. “I honestly wish he was joking. He’s some sort of genius, just hides it well. Not sure what he’s doing with a loser like me.”

I’d have expected Tom to gleefully accept Logan’s invitation to tease him—it didn’t get much more silver platter than that. Instead,Tom frowned. “Dude, stop insulting my best friend. You’re plenty smart. You just haven’t figured out what it is you really care about.”

It sounded like a conversation they’d had before and made me feel like Nia and I were intruding on years of friendship. I took a mouthful of my drink, lukewarm by now, and let my gaze drift over the shadowed tumble of rainforest that dripped from the island into the dark waters.

I’d missed out on college. Even if I’d known what I wanted to be—other than anything Michael desired—money would have been too tight. And so we’d mocked those who spent years learning useless trivia, who sat on their butts all day parsing towering piles of books rather than putting in some good, honest work. Not that Michael had been terrific at that either.

God, I’d been an idiot.

“Another?” Nia asked, jerking me back from the brink of self-flagellation.

“Think I’ve had enough,” I told her.

“Same.” Logan sighed. “Got to make some actual progress on my thesis tomorrow. More rum seems counterproductive.”

“Suit yourself.” Tom pushed to his feet and held out a hand to help Nia up. “Kindly escort me to the libations, good madam.”

She snorted, but the way she grasped his fingers told me she was charmed. They ambled off together, leaving Logan and me in momentary silence. He broke it, voice low to match the quiet night. “So you’re from Miami, right? How did you end up here?”

The air felt cool on my cheeks as I drew a breath. “Needed a fresh start. Katie knew the guy who used to run the dive shop here and recommended me for the job.”

It wasn’t the whole truth, but Logan didn’t need to know that their connection had taken me both ways—first to Katie after I’d done my Open Water certification here, and back again some six years later. Hecertainlydidn’t need to know about Michael, about how that relationship had damn near erased me until I clawed my way out of a hole I’d helped dig.

Logan raised his cup for another sip. “Bit of a change from the big city.”

“Yeah.” I stretched out my legs. Nia and Tom were chatting in the wheelhouse, their voices fast and bright, and it somehow made me aware of Logan’s warmth beside me, the night like a blanket around our shoulders. “I mean, it can get too quiet here at times,” I continued. “Not a whole lot to do when the biggest town has less than twenty thousand inhabitants. But it’s beautiful. And we get visitors from all over the world, get to hear their stories, so that keeps things interesting.”

His chuckle curled like wispy smoke from a campfire. “Even if some of them are jerks?”

“Or at least fake it well.” I smiled. “No, most people are nice. It’s good.”

“So you don’t miss it? The noise, the lights…”

“Sometimes.” I paused, not sure how to continue—whether I wanted to. The gentle murmur of the waves was a lullaby for my anxious thoughts. “But here… It’s like I can breathe. I wanted simple, you know? Time to figure out who I am.”

“And did you?” The question held a wistful note even though Logan couldn’t possibly understand.

“It’s a work in progress,” I told him, more honest than I’d intended.

“Isn’t that all anyone can ever really say?” His tone left room for an answer without demanding one.

I met his eyes for a smile and shrugged. He smiled back, equally silent, then tipped his head back to watch the night sky. For a second, maybe two, I drank him in—his high cheekbones and the way his drying hair curled around his ears, the slight tilt to his eyes and the sharp cut of his jaw.

Then I looked away and finished the last of my drink. Time to head back.

Crickets chirpedthrough the open bathroom window, fresh air pouring in along with the sound. The cracked mirror above the sink was only just starting to clear, condensation slowly dissipating after I’d showered the salt off my skin.

“So,” Nia said.

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