Page 53 of Hot Saltwater Kisses

“I think that people who are insecure, they struggle with trust. They want absolute control. They bark and put others down to feel better about themselves.” Like Richard. LikeMichael.

“Yeah, I tend to agree with you.” Logan was silent for a second, studying me. The fading light that trickled in through the window softened his features, lashes casting feathery shadows on his cheeks. “So—if you had the chance, would you want to run a resort like this?”

“Me?” I scoffed. “Hellno.”

His lips twitched. “Yeah, I thought that might be your answer.”

“I don’t have the patience to indulge idiots. That’s why Nia’s the boss—she’s good at that. Great, even. Helps that she actually likes people, I guess.”

“And you don’t?”

I reached out to touch his cheek, tracing the sharp line of the bone. “Only some.”

Silence spun out like the last golden light of the day. He seemed lost in thought, his eyes distant even as his hand kept tracing slow patterns on my arm.

“So that’s what you want to do?” I asked eventually. “Improve the world, one hotel at a time?”

“Sounds grand, doesn’t it?” His laugh was a puff of air on my face as his attention returned to me. “I’m sure you can dress it up in an economic rationale—staff retention, hiring good people for great guest experiences. But really, it’s also just the right thing to do.”

“I’d work for you.” It was an impulsive comment, a stand-in for what I really wanted to say.I like you, oh God, so much. “I mean, not—” I gestured at the way we were right now, cooling skin and his ankle caught between both of mine. “Not if we were doing this, of course. I mean, in general. I’d work for you.”

“But not if we were doing this?” His voice was slow and quiet, gaze thoughtful. I countered with a wry grin.

“Sleeping with the boss? Not my style.”

It took a second for the corners of his mouth to turn up. “Yeah, I guess that could get messy.”

This is messy.

I didn’t say it because that wasn’t our deal. In a matter of days, he’d leave my life. Simple. Simple but for the sharp spike of longing that twisted through my chest.

“So that’s what you want once your degree is done?” I asked. “Run a resort?”

He hesitated, then nodded slightly, shaggy hair whispering against the pillow. “Something along those lines, I think. Yeah.”

He could go anywhere in the world. Meanwhile, I’d still be here.

I grappled for some kind of encouragement and landed on, “Well, how’s that for a sense of purpose in your life? Your parents will be pleased.”

His gaze slid away. “I imagine they will be.”

Okay, I was done discussing his shiny future. Shifting closer, I slid my hand up to cup his jaw and drew him into a lingering kiss, slow and soft and easy. Like we had all the time in the world.

11

And then Kyle arrived.

He and Logan had been roommates during Logan’s Art degree, when Logan had chosen a classic student dorm experience over his parents’ mansion in one of Miami’s super rich island communities. Unlike Logan, Kyle had never stopped the party.

He came with a bang—literally. One evening, the front door to the cabin crashed open, and in fell Kyle with a, “Listen up, bitches! Your holiday is about to level up because The Kyle is here.”

Logan, Nia, Tom, and I were all on the terrace when this happened, concluding the evening with beer and some tinny tunes from a portable speaker. Tom dropped his head with a groan. “Next time,” he mumbled in Logan’s direction, “welockthe fuckingdoor.”

“Deal.” Logan was grinning, though, eyes bright as he called for Kyle to find us “Out here, man!”

Unease knotted my belly. I took a sip of beer to cover it up, shifting away from Logan just slightly since I didn’t know what he’d told his friends back home. Probably nothing. Why would he?

A second later, Kyle ambled outside. I’d heard his name, most of Logan’s tales that included him coated in exasperated fondness, but Ihadn’t known he was… kind of hot. Blond, spiky hair and a lithe body, prominent eyebrows, lips twisted into a confident smirk. Logan jumped up to hug him while the rest of us sat back, Tom with a long-suffering expression that couldn’t entirely mask the gleam of reluctant amusement in his eyes.

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