Page 145 of Menace in Vegas

I don’t care if I’m sore. Don’t care that I’m exhausted.

All I care about is him.

And the way he makes me feel.

60

CONNOR

Our last night in Vegas should be quiet. Romantic.

Instead, it’s chaos on steroids.

The madness starts with Ford and Jake challenging each other to a tequila showdown to see who can take the most shots without making a face.

Spoiler: neither of them wins.

Gram does.

“Jesus Christ,” I mutter as she slams her empty shot glass down, grinning like she just claimed the Iron Throne.

Jake groans, head on the table. “She’s not human.”

Ford squints at her. “Are we sure she’s not some kind of ancient goddess?”

Harper snorts. “She did survive the Great Bar Fight of ‘72. Pretty sure that makes her immortal.”

I look at Ford. “Your best friend’s family is terrifying.”

He shrugs. “But entertaining.”

Harper nods solemnly. “Tragically accurate.”

Allie smirks, elbowing her. “You married into this, bestie.”

“I wouldn’t change a thing.” Harper grins.

That’s when Cole barrels onto the casino floor, arms thrown wide. “I just won five grand at blackjack, bitches!”

The group explodes.

Drinks are spilled. Chairs are knocked over.

Chloe jumps on his back like he’s a decorated war hero.

“You’re buying all our drinks!” Tara yells.

“Oh, hell yeah I am!” Cole shouts, dragging us toward the bar.

Somewhere between shot number four and the world’s most unhinged group toast, Gram decides we need karaoke.

And what Gram wants, Gram gets.

That’s how we end up in a private lounge where Harper and Chloe are scream-singingLike a Virgin.

Ford and Jake are dramatically holding hands while beltingI Will Always Love You,and I’m trying not to die from secondhand embarrassment.

Then, Allie grabs the mic.

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