Page 29 of Hot Saltwater Kisses

“Like you even know how to make a bed,” Tom said.

“Dude.” Logan reached over to poke him in the sternum. “You’re supposed to make me look good in front of my date.”

“Dude.” The mocking lilt to Tom’s voice was at odds with the open fondness in his smile. “I’m no miracle worker.”

Now, if that wasn’t my cue to step up or go home…

I nudged the side of Logan’s foot with mine and waited for him to look at me. “No miracles needed.”

His quietly pleased, “Yeah?” just about made my heart burst with stupid warmth.

This might still be a bad idea. But I didn’t care anymore.

The sticky sweetnessof fried plantain still lingered on my fingers, rum punch humming warm in my veins. Ah, this was the life. Even if it came with a price tag.

I fumbled for my wallet, only for Logan to snatch up the check. “Allow me.”

It was a request rather than a statement, so I sent him a smile. “Thanks, but I’ve got it.”

His lips hitched up at the corners. “So I’m a bad date?”

“What? No.” I shook my head. “I came here for the company, not for a free meal. Equal enjoyment, equal contributions to the bill.”

He rolled his bottom lip between his teeth, considering me. “You know, most people are perfectly happy accepting a little chivalry.”

I glanced at where Tom covered his and Nia’s half of our dinner. Then I turned back to face Logan and chose to bypass any quips about how I wasn’t a girl, thank you very much. Nia had the ears of a bat and might kick my butt.

“Look, it’s bad enough you’re a guest. If I let you pay for me, that only makes it worse.”

“I’m not trying to buy sexual favors.” Logan frowned. “You know that, right?”

“I know. It’s the principle.”

“Nia doesn’t seem to mind.”

“She doesn’t have my relationship history.” I kept my tone light to avoid casting a shadow over the moment.

Logan’s gaze softened. His attention moved from me to Nia, leaning into Tom’s side while chatting with Diego about the idea of a weekly sunset-cruise-and-authentic-island-dinner excursion fromthe resort. When Logan’s gaze returned to me, he looked thoughtful. “Okay, yeah. I get that, I guess. But since being on equal footing really matters to you—Nia’s your boss. So how are you friends?”

“She was my peer first.” I didn’t add that she was also a woman and therefore didn’t trigger my fight-or-flight reflex. Something might have shown on my face, though, because a flicker of understanding crossed Logan’s face.

With a tiny smile, he moved the check over so I could get a proper look.

“Thank you,” I said quietly, music and laughter swirling around us, my chest oddly wide.

His smile grew, turned real. “Of course.”

I skimmed my fingers along the crook of his elbow and hoped it would compensate for words I didn’t have.

So when Niahad suggested we hit the dance floor? Logan and Tom might have expected slightly more than this ramshackle beach bar.

Behind a makeshift counter fashioned from an old wooden boat, bartenders shook up rum cocktails and served ice-cold beers to a thirsty crowd. Jerk chicken rotated above an open fire. A local band belted out reggae-infused renditions of classic calypso tunes, couples swaying under the stars, while groups of friends laughed and cheered each other on to try more daring moves.

“This counts as the epitome of island nightlife?” Logan sounded curious rather than dismissive, his gaze sweeping over the haphazard collection of driftwood, bamboo, and thatched palm leaves.

“What did you expect?” I asked him. “Coachella vibes in a town with twenty thousand inhabitants plus tourists? If it helps, the fireflies put on a pretty good light show.”

“No, it’s just that I remember this warehouse space with a DJ. From my first time here.” We got shoved closer together at the bar, a drunk dude shouting for another drink as he squeezed into the tiny gap between Nia and me.

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