Page 23 of Hot Saltwater Kisses

“Yeah.”

I weighed my words. He’d let me stick my nose where it didn’t belong, and while that didn’t entitle him to do the same, shutting him down would feel ungracious.

“I forgot who I was for a while,” was what I settled on. “Took me a bit to rise from the ashes.”

Open curiosity lit Logan’s eyes. “Like a phoenix?”

“More like a drunken seagull fleeing from a dumpster fire.” Time to stop this runaway conversation. I gulped down the last of my coffee, melting ice cubes clacking together, and got up with a smile. “All right, thanks for the coffee. Ready to make a move?”

He looked up at me for a silent beat, sunlight catching the thoughtful crease of his forehead. In the end, all he said was, “Sure.”

I turned away from the contemplative expression in his eyes. Considering he’d just learned more about me than most people did in a year, I figured that was my quota for today. Or the rest of his stay.

The best diveswere like meditation. I emerged from the water with my breathing slow and even, my mind wide open, draped in a deep sense of calm.

It felt just like that when Logan and I finished our dive. We hadn’t even seen anything special, but other than showing him a camera trick here and there, I’d been able to justbe,to drink it all in and enjoy details that I was usually too busy to notice. Garden eels that swayed like blades of grass and tiny gobies peeking out from their coral homes, an intricately patterned nudibranch crawling slowly over a rock.

Gravity reclaimed me as I rose from the water. Next to me, Logan pulled off his mask and shook wetness from his hair.

I shielded my eyes against the rain of droplets. “Dude. Little warning?”

“Why? You’re already wet.” He squinted at me, lashes clumped together, sunlight bringing out the green hues in his irises. “You haven’t had breakfast, right?”

“My stomach wasn’t in the mood.”

“How about we find a bite and go through my pictures?” Crinkles radiated from the corners of his eyes. “You can tell me all the things I did wrong.”

“How long are you here for again?”

“Ha fucking ha.” He didn’t sound upset. “So—wanna come over to my cabin? I can order whatever you feel like, just let me know.”

With my attention caught by the line of his throat, it took me a moment to work through the implications. I shook my head. “Not a good idea. Resort hierarchies, remember?”

A frown ghosted across his features before he smiled, his tone just the slightest bit off. “Right. I forgot.”

Brief silence settled as we waded onto the beach. I kept glancing at his profile, edged in light by the sun. Damn. I didn’t usually get all nice and chummy with guests—I wasn’t much of a people person to begin with, and why invest time in someone who was only passing through?

But Nia had told me to live a little. And I couldn’t exactly pick from a lineup of hot guys. And I actuallylikedLogan, although maybe it would be simpler if I didn’t.

“How about,” I said with only a short glance at him, “I grab us something from the staff kitchen? It’s simple food but not too bad. We can sit outside the dive shop.”

“Sounds great.” His face brightened as he waved for me to precede him up the stairs.‘So you can check out my ass?’I almost asked, but nope, not there yet. I’d need a splash of liquid courage to cross that line.

We hauled our gear up to the dive shop and carried it into the shadowed interior. “I deal with this, you get breakfast?” Logan asked.

It didn’t conform to protocol either. I agreed anyway.

The staff kitchen was a compact, utilitarian space with worn countertops and cabinets of a faded white. The daily morning buffet was set out on one side, a lingering aroma of coffee and burnt toast pervading the air. After last night’s party, more stragglers than usual were picking through the offerings with the kind of enthusiasm suited to a funeral. Their own, specifically. Since that had been me a couple of hours ago, I was in no position to judge.

I grabbed just one plate and loaded it with enough food for two. “Hangover remedy,” I told anyone who asked. “Soak up the leftover booze, you know?”

The fact that I was lying through my teeth should have served as a warning. If only I could bring myself to care. Or, I did care—just not enough to adjust course.

I returned to find Logan sprawled on the same bench as before,eyes closed. Tree-filtered sunlight cast stark patterns across his torso, his relaxed pose highlighting the long, lean lines of his body.

Hot damn.

Portrait photography had never been my thing. I’d tried a few times, with lukewarm results, and had decided to stick with what I loved—life below the surface. Logan made me want to try again.

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