Page 69 of Menace in Vegas

Ipull into the parking lot of a tiny diner, staring at the run-down building.

The sign is half-lit, the paint’s chipped, and I’m pretty sure the menu hasn’t been updated since 1983.

Allie’s stomach was growling an hour ago, but she refused anything but coffee for breakfast.

So here we are.

Hopefully, we don’t get food poisoning.

I glance over at her.

She actually looks... relieved. Like this place is a safe zone. Like she’s finally getting a break from me.

I smirk as I push open the door.

Not happening, sweetheart.

* * *

Inside,a tired-looking waitress greets us. "Booth okay?"

Before Allie can answer, I nod.

I place a hand on her waist and follow the waitress.

She slides into the booth. I slide in right beside her.

She goes rigid like I dumped ice water down her shirt.

Clearly, she expected me to sit across from her.

Too bad.

I stretch my legs out, letting my thigh press against hers.

She scoots away.

I scoot closer.

She scowls at me.

I ignore it.

“This place has a lot of options, wife," I murmur, flipping open a menu. "What are you in the mood for?"

She lets out the cutest growl I’ve ever heard.

“I’m in the mood for you to leave me the hell alone and stop calling me wife."

I chuckle.

“Cute. But not gonna happen."

She grabs a napkin, balls it up, and throws it at me.

I catch it without breaking eye contact, grinning at her.

She drops her gaze and pretends the menu is fascinating.

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