Page 168 of Menace in Vegas

Something big.

It’s time to stop pretending everything is fine.

And start preparing for the war that’s already knocking on the door.

73

ALLISON

Connor and I had breakfast, walked the beach, and browsed through three souvenir shops—all while he acted like everything was totally fine.

But it’s not.

He keeps checking his phone, scanning crowds, and flashing that tight-lipped “I’m totally relaxed” smile that means he’s two seconds from snapping a pool cue in half.

I let it slide earlier.

But now I want answers.

We’re back in the bungalow, and he’s pacing like a lion in a cage.

I step in front of him, arms crossed. “Okay. Time to talk.”

He halts mid-step. “Talk about what?”

I raise a brow. “You’re acting weird. Your posture’s stiff. You keep staring into the distance like you’re the brooding lead in a low-budget mystery series. What’s going on?”

He opens his mouth.

Closes it.

Runs a hand through his hair like he’s weighing how much to say.

Then… he smiles.

And that’s how I know he’s up to something. Because it’s that smile, his charming menace smile he uses when he’s absolutely full of shit.

“I’ve been planning a surprise,” he says smoothly.

My eyes narrow. “A surprise?”

He nods. “For you. Because you’re my wife. And I love you. And you’ve put up with Gram, churro confessions, and old man teeth. You deserve something special.”

My suspicion deepens. “Why do I feel like this is less about a surprise and more about stalling me?”

“Because you’re terrifyingly perceptive,” he says, kissing my forehead. “But also wrong. I just need a few hours.”

“To do what, exactly?”

Before he can answer, the door swings open, and in walks Gram, wearing a massive sunhat, a T-shirt that says “I Got Lei’d in Key West,” and a scarf made of tiny plastic flamingos.

Connor lights up like he’s just spotted the exit sign in a burning building. “Perfect timing.”

Gram squints at us. “Why do I feel like I’m about to regret walking in?”

Connor turns to her like she’s his personal getaway driver. “Gram. I need you to take Allie out for a few hours. Show her around. Keep her entertained.”

She raises a brow. “Like I’m your chaotic emotional support raccoon?”

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