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.
