Page 28 of Head Over Eels in Laguna
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“So. You’re going to North Andros.” I pressed a hand to my chest. “I’mgoing to North Andros.”
She stared at me. “What are the odds?”
“Uncomfortably high,” I muttered, mostly to my coffee.
“Wanna share a charter flight?” she asked. “I figure if the Chickcharney doesn’t get me, the mosquitoes will, and I’d rather die in front of a witness.”
I laughed. I didn’t mean to—it just kind of escaped. It felt... good.
“Sure,” I said. “Why not? What could possibly go wrong?”
She grinned.
We both left out the part where we were each keeping secrets.
