“How was your swim?” she asked as I sat at the picnic table.
“Awesome. How’s your book?”
“It sucks.”
“It does?”
She nodded, her sky-blue eyes peering at me over the top of the book. “The main character’s boyfriend just died.”
“Ouch. Succumbed to a disease? Injured in a car wreck? Devoured by a man-eating shark?”
“She killed him.”
“That’s not good.”
“Actually, that’s the good part. He was an a**.”
“Then why did you say it sucked?”
“Because she got caught.”
I chuckled, thinking maybe I should thank London for taking the bullets. “Remind me not to piss you off this week.” I scanned the scenery. “There’re way too many places here to dispose of a body.”
She lowered the book to her lap, shooting me a mischievous grin. “It’s good for a man to feel a little fear.”
“Should I sleep with my door locked tonight?”
Her smile widened. “You should sleep with your door locked every night.”
No comments:
Post a Comment