Page 30 of Hot Saltwater Kisses

“That got knocked down ages ago,” I told Logan. “All that’s left are tales and a pile of rubble.”

“And some fond memories of bad decisions, I bet.” He laughed, angling himself to face me. “Blame the rum.”

“Hardly.” I smiled and held his gaze. “Rumor has it alcohol doesn’t create new desires. It just gives you the guts to act on them.”

“That so?” For a hot beat, his focus dropped to my mouth. His nearness thrummed in my belly, buzzed in my bones, and I wasn’t sure whether to move closer or away. The dim glow of torches and fairy lights reduced Logan’s eyes to a stormy gray.

Jesus, I was turning into a cliche.

“So,” I said brightly. “Beer?”

Right—because I desperately needed a truth serum for my inner monologue. Before I could alter course and suggest mocktails instead, Logan grinned. “Yep. Beer is good. Beer isexcellent.”

Debatable.

The drunk guy next to me had managed to snag the attention of a bartender—proof that the loudest monkey gets the banana daiquiri. I seized the chance to slip in our orders too and turned back to Logan.

Just in time to see a girl sidling up to him with a wide smile, her lips a vibrant shade of red that stood out even in the shadows. She grasped his shoulder as though to steady herself. “Sorry, sorry!” Her long lashes fluttered in a calculated display. “Got pushed, sorry. Bit of a crowd tonight.”

“Hey, no worries.” He touched her elbow. “You all right, though?”

“Perfect.” She leaned into him, and was this—did he—he was gay. Right? Or did he swing both ways? He wasn’t pulling away, far as I could tell.Whywasn’t he pulling away? Just being friendly? His smile seemed more polite than inviting.

Oh, to hell with this. I pressed against him and slung an arm around his waist. “Who’s your friend?”

The way he shifted into me was deeply satisfying. The girl must have picked up on it too because her eyebrows drew together for a quick, assessing look at where my hand curled against Logan’s waist. Then she snickered. “Don’t mind me—I know when I’m beat.”

With a wink, she melted back into the crowd.

“Well,” I said blithely. “That was interesting.”

Logan grinned at me. “Sure was.”

As luck would have it, the bartender chose that moment to slide two cold beers across the counter, the bottles damp when I clasped them. I paid before Logan could try to do the same.

His smile flashed like fireworks, fleeting warmth in the velvet shadows. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

Our fingers brushed when I handed over his beer, the contact lingering for a second longer than necessary. Pleasant tension quivered in my stomach as Logan leaned in, stopping an inch shy of his lips brushing the corner of my mouth. “See,” he said, just loud enough to be heard. “That wasn’t so hard, now was it?”

Again—debatable. I bypassed the quip about how he was welcome to check for himself. “If you want to be more specific? That’d be helpful, thanks.”

“Letting you pay for me.” He pulled back just a hint, mischief tucked into the corners of his eyes. “Just don’t expect me to put out. I’m a classy date.”

“Could’ve fooled me.” I kept watching him as I took a long pull from my beer. His attention dropped to my mouth and remained there when I released the bottle with a pop and licked my lips. It was…fun. God, yeah. I’d never really learned how to flirt, awkward teenage years blending into Michael interrogating me for hours if I even glanced at another human being. Followed by Dominica’s subtlety clause when it came to same-sex interest—well, it was safe to say I wasn’t Don Juan.

But Logan made me want to try.

His mouth hitched into a playful curve. “Such flattery.”

“Hey, you love a challenge. Or you wouldn’t be friends with Tom.”

“Touché. Speaking of...” Logan scanned the crowd behind me. “I think we’ve lost them.”

I turned around to take it all in—a mix of locals and tourists, young and old, reggae beat pulsing through the sand. Ah, Nia andTom were cheering on the band, right next to where a dreadlocked surfer chatted up a couple of giggling American girls in their college T-shirts. The day’s warmth lingered.

“Over there,” I said, pointing.

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