Page 63 of All Bets Are Off

Connor cocks his head at the menu boards, then blushes. “Can I get a giant slab of the quadruple chocolate cake? Like, the biggest slice you’re allowed to serve me without getting in any trouble. And then whatever milkshake she’s having, thanks.”

The woman rings us up and Connor swipes his credit card. When she turns her back to get our order started, I raise a teasing eyebrow at Connor.

“Why do you look so embarrassed about ordering some chocolate cake? It’s okay, Cons. No one has to know this was our Saturday night dinner.”

He laughs—a hearty laugh from deep inside his chest—and crosses his arms, pulling my focus to the assortment of tattoos inked along his forearms and around his bulging biceps. “Because it’s a quadruple chocolate cake, Addy. That’s a fuck ton of chocolate that I’ll probably regret in the morning.”

“Well, that’s tomorrow’s problem.”

“Seems like everything is tomorrow’s problem with you,” Connor grumbles, then instantly squeezes his eyes shut and sucks in a breath when he sees the way my smile fades. “Shit. Sorry, Addy. I just . . .” He opens his eyes again. “I just can’t bite my tongue around you right now. You mean too much—”

“Here’s your cookies!” the woman behind the counter calls out. “And your cake.”

I fetch the two boxes from her, one with my random selection of cookies and one with Connor’s giant slice of cake, all while ignoring the heat that flares through my body. Moments later, the woman presents our alcoholic milkshakes on the counter, and my eyes nearly bulge out of my skull. Yeah, there’s no way I’m drinking that mountain of sugar without feeling nauseous later.

“Let me just point out now that this was your idea,” Connor says. He hands me one of the shakes and takes the other for himself, then taps them together. “Cheers to Vegas and bad decisions.”

“Cheers to Vegas and bad decisions,” I repeat, then take a giant slurp of the milkshake through the chunky straw. The hinge of my jaw tingles, like my salivary glands can’t handle the overstimulation. “Okay, that’s seriously delicious.”

Connor screws his face up, recoiling from the taste. “Why does it taste like alcohol?”

“Did you even read the menu? They have rum in them.”

“Rum? In a milkshake?” He looks absolutely horrified, but takes another hesitant sip, anyway. “Hmm. I guess it’s not too bad.”

We grab ourselves a seat and Connor tucks into his chocolate cake, while I taste-test all three of my cookies. The chocolate chip one is the best, and I wash them down with my boozed-up milkshake.

“Nice chocolate mustache, Willy Wonka,” I tell Connor.

“You’re lying.”

I grin as I watch him scramble for his phone, opening his front camera to check his reflection. “Yeah, I’m lying,” I say.

Connor flips me the middle finger and I bubble over into laughter. His playful glare eases and soon he’s smiling too, but then I sense my phone vibrating inside my purse.

What if Evie is in trouble? I set down my milkshake and fumble through my purse for my phone, and when I see Liam’s name on my screen, my shoulders sink instantly.

It’s not how you should feel about your fiancé. I know that. And now guilt comes flooding through my veins too—a potent mix that triggers an instant panic.

“Hi, babe. You’re awake,” I answer the call gently, and I try my best to ignore the way Connor watches me closely with a hardened expression. I twist in my seat, turning my back on him to tune him out. “How are you feeling?”

“Addy,” Liam croaks. “I feel like death. Where is everyone?”

“We’re all just downstairs in the casino,” I tell him, and it surprises even me how quickly I’m able to lie to him. There is no way I can admit I’m hanging out alone with Connor while I have no clue where anyone else is. “We were leaving you to sleep off all those tequila shots.”

“I’m going to kill those guys,” Liam groans. I hear him gulp down the water I left for him on the bedside table. “Can you come up to the room? I want you here with me.”

“I’ll be right there,” I promise him.

“Thanks, Addy. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

When I hang up the call, I’m almost too nervous to turn back around to face Connor again. He won’t like that I’m running off to be with Liam, that I put Liam first each and every time he needs me, because that’s how it should be with the man you’re marrying. “Connor . . .” I murmur, angling toward him.

“I’ll walk you up there,” he simply says, but there’s a coldness in his voice that stings. It’s like disappointment, almost. It feels like my decisions are letting him down, and I hate that I’m disappointing him. “Let’s go.”

Connor discards our trash then reaches for my hand, pulling me to my feet. We head for the elevators in silence. I should really tell him I don’t need an escort, but I know that our brief evening together is coming to an end, and a small part of me isn’t quite ready for that yet. To say goodbye to the safe familiarity of Connor Lexington as I return to my pathetic little life of walking on eggshells around Liam Hartman . . . So I let Connor walk me all the way down the long corridor to his and Liam’s hotel room, the tension palpable in the space between us.