Page 37 of Sapphire Sunset

Instead, he felt like a stranger inside his own body. Partof him was dead, the other part nursing fantasies of Connor confronting him atthe hotel and doing someJerry Maguirespeech in front of the entirestaff that sealed their fates together forever.

But in the long days that followed, Connor didn’t show hisface at Sapphire Cove.

And after a few nights of having his heart clench up everytime his rounds took him past the spot where he’d followed the guy down thesteps that hugged the cliff and toward something that had felt like a beginningand not an end, Logan made a deal with a coworker that got him out of nightlyrounds.

For the time being, at least.

In the end, it wasn’t much of a comfort. Whenever he wasalone on duty or watching TV with his dad, Logan found a way to check his phoneand stare at the blank screen following his last text to Connor. And wheneverhe had to check in on an event in the Dolphin Ballroom, he saw Connor dancingunder its chandelier.

Eventually these feelings would go away, Logan told himself.

The whole thing had been a mistake. A messy, split-secondmistake. For both of them.

If Connor didn’t see that now, he would eventually.

Hell, eventually Connor might thank him.

Word around the hotel was that the prince had gone on ashort vacation to New York before his job started. That was good. It would givethem both time to brace for the initial awkwardness. In the beginning, theymight have to ignore each other to keep things easy. Then one day they’d runinto each other in the lobby during work hours—preferably daylight ones—and if enoughtime had passed, things would be all business, back to normal. Someday theymight even tease each other about the crazy night they’d shared. By then, Loganwould have a boyfriend who couldn’t rent Rolls-Royces on a moment’s notice, whoknew what it was like to split a doublewide with your dad. And Connor would beengaged to some other Prince Charming whose idea of slumming it was flyingcommercial.

But a little more than a week after their last meeting atLaguna Brew, Sapphire Cove was shaken by a piece of news that inspired gossipfrom the front desk to the back offices of the security team.

The prince hadn’t just taken a vacation to New York City.

The prince had found a job there.

And he wasn’t coming back.

That night, Logan told the guy he’d traded late-night roundswith that they could go back to their usual schedules.

That night, Logan went down to the sea cave for the firsttime since he’d been there with Connor, only this time the surf gurgling throughthe rocks sounded like the whispers of ghosts. Something brief and bright andhot and magical had flared here briefly and then been lost forever. Swept outto sea.

Cast out to sea. By good sense. By responsibility.

By him.

“Some hero you are, dude,” he whispered to the ocean winds.

Five Years Later

5

“Kiss me,” the bleached blonde with zeropercent body fat moaned.

Uh oh,Logan thought.

Logan had learned to keep lip-locks and cheap sex asseparate as he’d keep a match flame and kerosene fumes. It was the only way toprevent overpowering flashes of the best kiss he’d ever shared with another manfrom wrecking his love life for good.

He’d had plenty of quick and dirty hookups with strangerssince letting Connor Harcourt roll out of his life in a Rolls-Royce. But he’dtold them all point blank that make-out sessions were not included.Sorry,buddy. That’s not how Sergeant Stud rolls. So if they wanted to get theirhands on the broad, muscle-plated chest featured in his profile photo or runtheir fingers over the globe and anchor tattoo on his right shoulder, thosewere the terms. Most guys were fine with it.

Not the ornery little dude writhing beneath him now.Apparently he’d experienced a change of heart. During their chat session thatafternoon, he’d consented to Logan’s conditions with a long string of thumbs-upemoji. But now that Logan had crossed the guy’s threshold and entered the latticeworkof harsh sunlight cutting through vertical blinds the guy had only partiallyyanked closed, Blondie was determined to neck like a teenager on prom night.And if he didn’t quit, Logan would have to politely bail, maybe head home forsome quality time with his Xbox and a Heineken. Anything to avoid the memory ofa name he still had trouble saying aloud.

This time around, he’d told himself he could spend a monthon the apps, tops. A month of filling his spare time with quick, meaninglesshookups in between heavy work weeks and visits to Donnie in San Diego.

Now he was well into month three, and the hamster wheel ofanonymous, instant gratification Grindr offered was starting to give him abackache. And possibly a neck sprain thanks to a guy who wanted to share a kissbefore they shared real names.

If they ever shared real names.

At least the dude wasn’t a catfish. He was, in fact, theowner of the lean torso and chiseled eight-pack he sported in his profilephoto, and the other far more explicit images he’d texted Logan earlier thatday in an attempt to seal the deal. But now, after throwing the guy down ontohis unmade bed, after playing the part of the big, tough former Marine toperfection while he roughly stripped the guy of his clothes, Logan was usingevery trick he knew to render his midday conquest boneless with pleasure,anything to stop the determinedtwinkfrom zeroing inon his latest target—Logan’s mouth. So far, nothing was working, and he wasalmost out of tweaks, nibbles, grips, thrusts, and twists.