Page 72 of Menace in Vegas

Oh, this is delicious.

He doesn’t even react to me calling him husband, but his bodydefinitelyflinches.

“Oh, baby," I murmur, placing a hand on his bicep. "That must be so stressful for you."

He stills.

I bat my lashes. "You okay, sweetheart?"

His eyes darken.

Got him.

I trail my fingers down his arm, pretending to examine the tire. Then I pout dramatically.

“This looks bad," I whisper. "Do you know how to change a tire, Connor?"

His jaw locks tighter. "I play hockey for a living, not work in a fucking garage."

I sigh. "So… you don’t know how?"

His eyes snap to mine. "I didn’t say that."

I bite my lip, nearly bursting from the inside out.

“Oh, of course not. Because my big, strong hockey player can do anything, right?" My voice is sugar-coated poison.

His nostrils flare.

I pat his chest.

“You look tense, baby," I purr. "Maybe you should take off your shirt. You know, so you don’t get it dirty."

He blinks, looking like I just short-circuited his entire brain.

Stepping in close, I drag a finger down the center of his chest. "Bet you’d look real good fixing that tire with your shirt off."

He exhales sharply.

Boom.

I smile sweetly and step back.

"Good luck, husband!"

Then I sashay back to the car like I didn’t just shatter every last shred of his sanity.

Sliding into my seat, I sip my Coke and grin.

Vengeful Allie – 1

Hot Hockey Menace – 0

26

CONNOR

Ifix the tire in the muggy heat while Allie’s voice echoes in my head.

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