Page 43 of Hot Saltwater Kisses

I grinned. “Quaint.”

We were silent for a minute as we chose our food, common sense telling me to steer clear of anything that listed truffle or caviar. Steak, a side salad, and a slice of lemon pie couldn’t possibly break the bank.

While Logan placed our order, I walked to the edge of the terrace. The sea stretched out below and caught the last of the sunlight in ripples of gold. Everything seemed on hold for just a moment as the sun hung suspended above the horizon.

“Done,” Logan announced from behind me. “Should be here in half an hour or so.”

I turned, hands in my pockets, and smiled at him. The fading light flowed around his silhouette and painted him in an amber glow. Stupidly, my throat constricted with want, as though I was the lead in some nineties rom-com.Jesus.

“This is the only place outside the US I’ve been to,” I said once I got a fucking grip. “What’s it like?”

“The world?” Logan’s mouth quirked. “Big.”

“Let’s start with Venice.”

“It’s…” He stepped into the space next to me, our bare arms brushing. “Like a beautiful, slightly cheesy postcard that’s come to life. Only it’s a bit tipsy.”

“Tipsy?”

“Sinking ever so slightly,” he clarified. “So it’s always leaning to one side. Part of the charm, though. And you walk along these narrow, medieval canals, and it can feel like you’re walking through a different time.”

“Not too crowded, then?” I asked.

“Oh, yeah—tourists galore.” Logan shrugged one shoulder. “Gondolas, fake handbags from China sold on the streets, crazy coffee prices in St. Mark’s Square… The city actually made a push to keep cruise ship guests away since they just clog up the alleys, buy a couple of cheap souvenirs, and then return to their ships for dinner. Does nothing for the local economy.”

Well, not like we were faring that much better here. I kept my mouth shut about that and asked, “But no cars, right?”

“No, just boats and a lot of walking.” He shot me a smile, something wistful caught in its corners. “And you can still find the real Venice—duck into the quiet side alleys or make sure you’re out early or really late.That’sVenice like in the movies.”

“I’d love to see that one day.” It was out before I could censor my words, and I looked away immediately after. The sky had softened to a mix of tangerine and lavender, bleeding into deep indigo at the edges.

Logan took a moment to respond. When he did, his voice was quiet, hardly rising above the high-pitched trill of crickets. “There’s a Prescott Hotel in Venice—got the brochure right inside.”

Of course there was. The brochure was also laid out in our dive shop, along with similar ones for Prescott Hotels in places like London, Dubai, Tokyo, or the French Riviera. Since my marketable skills revolved around herding divers like cats, I stood no chance ofmaking it there. More realistic would be one of the Prescott Resorts in the Maldives, Bali, or the Bahamas.

I was fine here, though. Dominica had been kind to me.

“I know, yeah.” I kept my tone light. “Bit outside my budget.”

“No employee discount?”

“Doubt it. Even if there were, I wouldn’t want to blow most of my savings on the flight.”

Three years ago, the admission would have embarrassed me. Not anymore. I worked six days a week and easily exceeded the standard forty hours, especially when high season kept us on our toes. No, I didn’t have a swanky degree to my name, but I wasn’t a slacker by any means.

Logan blew out a soft breath. “Right.”

“Guess a couple thousand bucks would be peanuts for you, huh?”

He hesitated for a moment, then sent me a wry smile. “Yeah. But there’s always someone who’s got more than you—money, success, whatever. Like my cousin, you know? Two years older, but already managing hotels in Europe.”

“Guess some people just skip the awkward ‘figuring life out’ phase.”

“True.” Logan’s gaze drifted away. “Sometimes I feel like I’m playing catch-up.”

“You’re not just his knock-off, you know?” I nudged his shoulder with mine. “Not to sound like a fortune cookie, but don’t measure yourself with someone else’s ruler.”

“That’s…” He paused. “Deep. I think.”

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