Page 69 of Hot Saltwater Kisses

I took a sharp turn off the main path and towards his cabin, same as last night. Except last night, I’d been subtle about it. Now? Fuck that. Not like it mattered. Not like it ever had when Logan’s family owned this whole damn place.

Trees formed a tunnel, then parted to reveal his cabin. I still had the keycard. Instead, I slammed my fist against the door, knuckles smarting from the impact.Good. The pain sent white-hot dots spinning through my vision.

I was about to knock again when Kyle pulled the door open. The way his eyes went wide was pure fucking poetry. Hello there—another asshole who’d been in on this charade. My fists clenched tighter, nails biting into my palm.

“Where the fuck is he?” My words came out as a growl. Polite pretense? Not today, fucker.

Kyle hesitated, like he was actually tempted to defuse this. “Listen, man?—”

“Not in the fucking mood,” I cut him off. “Iknow, all right?”

He assessed me with a quick, cautious look, then nodded and finally stepped aside. “Upstairs.”

Too bad—I’d have welcomed a reason to lash out. I wasn’t a violent guy, not one of those dudes who had a couple of beers and were spoiling for a fight. But the anger simmering in my blood made me want to scream and thrash and rage—anything to keep my mind off the jagged wound in my chest, raw edges that gaped wide open. Anger was my lifeline.

I pushed past Kyle, our shoulders bumping. He turned with the impact.

“Milo, hey.” His voice was uncharacteristically serious for a guy who always seemed like he wouldn’t give a fuck if it was served on a silver platter. “He never meant?—”

“Save it.” Sharp and biting, hurt twisting through my gut.

Kyle didn’t try again. I pounded up the stairs, every step throbbing in my ears, in my head, in the very tips of my fingers. Tom’s door cracked open just as I passed, and he peeked out, Nia right behind him.

“Milo?” Confusion was thick in her tone. “What’s wrong?”

“Askhim.” I pointed a thumb at Tom, and his face sagged with guilt. Yeah. Screw him, too.

I marched past them. Threw open Logan’s door and slammed it behind me, shutting out the world.

Logan’s room. Fuck. Not just his anymore—I’d left parts of myself here. A change of clothes in the wardrobe, a book by the bed, my idiot heart at his feet. Too much light flooded in through the wide windows, illuminating the tattered details of my broken hopes.

He stood by the wardrobe, buttoning up a crisp white shirt, all businesslike. His head whipped around at my abrupt entrance. One look at me, and his face—God, his fuckingface—fell as though he didn’t have it coming. He took a quick step forward while I froze, water rushing in my ears.

Logan Prescott. Liar. I love you. I hate you.

“Milo.” He raised a hand as if to reach for me, palm up.

I fucking hate you.

“Were you ever gonna fucking tell me?” The words tasted like bile.

“I can explain.” His tone was quiet, imploring, and it snapped me out of my stupor.

“Explain what?” My voice cracked. I fought to steady it, fought to steady myself, to drape myself in protective sarcasm—like an almond-stuffed date wrapped in bacon, hard core and deceptive sweetness hidden by a sting of salt. God, what evenwasmy brain? “Explain how Richard just fired me for playing house with the bosses’nephew?”

Logan blinked and straightened. “He can’t do that.”

“You really thinkthat’sthe issue here?”

“There’ve been complaints about him.” Logan’s brow furrowed in something like confusion, as if this was some minor administrative inconvenience. “It’s part of why I’m here—actually, my uncle is gonna let him go. But Richard’s not supposed to know that yet. Or who I am.”

I stalked closer, anger twitching through me, vision narrowing inon Logan. God,Logan. “And again.” I paused. “You really think that’s the fuckingissue?”

He stood his ground, eyes open and calm, all his attention focused on me. He was good at that—making me feel like I mattered, like he truly saw me. Asshole.

“I was going to tell you,” he said. “Tonight.”

“Oh, were you?” My throat felt raw, each breath scraping along flesh and tissue. “Afterweeksof this, of letting me—”Fall for you. I choked it down. No, fuck that. “Of letting me think I knew you.”

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