I need a vacation. Yes, me, Bryn O'Riley, assistant to the assistant architect who had to sell a kidney (just kidding, Mom) in order to make this solo trip to Florida happen. Nothing will derail my plans-the ones I've carefully typed out and laminated. Number one on the list: survive my first plane ride. How hard could it be to ride thousands of feet in the air, trapped inside a tin can at night? Don't answer that. After breaking it off with my ex-fiancé, I'm not looking to settle down. I don't need a man, a pet, or an InstantPot to make me happy. Just a vacation. For all my careful Googling, I forgot to prepare for a hot, single, surfer guy I met in the security line. His smile alone makes me want to take scissors to my plan. Too bad they didn't let me bring those on the plane. I should be on a flight back home to California, but surprise! I'm not. I've learned that some opportunities only come around once, and also that I'm not a cat person. But that's a different story. After meeting a beautiful woman with a label maker in her purse and a penchant for blood-my blood (it was an accident...I think)-I purchased a new ticket to alligator country. She keeps reminding me that we're strangers, but she's also checking out my biceps. I'm not mad about it. I'm flattered, really. She is the first girl to turn my head in a while. And now I can't look away. We have one flight to figure out if our relationship is cleared for take off or headed for a crash landing.