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ALLISON

I should be mad about missing the flight.

Frustrated that we have to drive to Vegas.

Irritated that I’m stuck in a tiny car for hours with Connor.

But I’m not.

Call it “Operation Distract Allie,” but messing with Connor has been the highlight of my life since my ex dumped me via a video call five weeks ago.

Harper and I have dissected my relationship with Mark countless times. She never missed a chance to remind me she wasn’t a fan. She hated that I was never a priority in his life, calling him my safety net.

She was right.

I dated Mark because he was a businessman. Despite his frequent travels, I thought he was steady.

Or, as Harper says, boring and safe.

I never expected him to cheat on me.

Then I booked a flight to Harper’s hometown for her wedding, staying at Serene Lake B&B.

That’s when my life changed the first time I met the brooding man in the driver’s seat.

Once I got over him nearly beheading me with a hockey stick, the sparks between us were electric. I’d never felt anything like it.

His flirtatiousness and undivided attention rattled me to my core.

He made every excuse to be around me, and since our best friends were getting married, we were thrust together a lot.

I thought I could handle Connor.

He was a wildcard, constantly joking and flirting, so I didn’t take him seriously.

At least, not until he chased after me when I saw the text from Mark, saying he couldn’t come to my best friend’s wedding.

The genuine concern in Connor's eyes affected me too much. Showed me he had layers.

Then I made the cardinal mistake of kissing him.

Not once, but twice.

I ran from him, but that only made things worse. He enjoyed the chase.

The only thing I’ve found that gets under his skin is when I act like he doesn’t affect me.

So missing our flight?

Not a big deal.

Even though we’re trapped on a road trip together, I can entertain myself by getting under his skin.

And I’m having a hell of a lot of fun doing that.

Watching Connor suffer is hilarious.

Even funnier is watching a professional hockey player drive a pink Barbie car.

That’s my new favorite sport.

I should video this.

Reaching down, I grab my phone from my purse.

“Don’t you fucking dare, Payne.” Connor’s eyes laser into mine, dark and dangerous.

“What?” I try to hide my smile, feigning innocence.

“Don’t ‘what’ me. You were going to video me driving this deathtrap. Probably post it to all your socials.”

I lift one shoulder. “Sounds like a great idea. I can caption it, ‘Vegas Road Trip Shenanigans.’ Or maybe ‘Chaos in Vegas.’ No wait?—”

He grips the steering wheel so hard, I’m surprised he hasn’t ripped it from the column. “You’re a fucking menace, Allie Payne!”

I raise my brows. “Oh, that’s a great caption.”

I hold up my phone and press the video button. “You know, ‘Menace in Vegas’ has such a nice ring to it. Don’t you think?”

He stares at me like he wishes he had the hockey stick he nearly decapitated me with.

I smirk, not at all intimidated by him.

Before I can react, he knocks my cell phone from my hand. “Don’t. Fuck. With. Me. Payne.”

I gasp, bending over and grabbing my phone. “You’re a buzzkill, Byrns. You should try having some fun.”

I discreetly position my phone to record him while he’s smashed against the steering wheel.

“Don’t even think about posting that,” he growls.

“Oh, I won’t post it,” I lie sweetly. “This is strictly for my private collection. You know—for blackmail purposes.”

He mutters something under his breath that sounds like a prayer and a curse word blended together.

“Smile for the camera, Petal,” I whisper.

His head whips toward me. “ What did you just call me? ”

“Petal. The car. That’s her name, remember?” I tap the dashboard affectionately. “And you’re one with her now.”

“I will crash this car on purpose.”

“You wouldn’t dare. You’d miss me too much.”

“I miss silence. That’s what I miss.”

I turn my face to the window, biting my lip to keep from laughing.

Connor is six feet two inches and built like a Greek god. This car is the size of a roller skate.

He is so uncomfortable.

His knees are jammed into the dashboard. His broad shoulders barely fit in the seat. The steering wheel is practically in his lap.

But my personal favorite part is the sheer, unfiltered misery on his face.

He deserves it.

The amount of torture he inflicted on me during the pre-wedding dinner kept me awake all night. It caused me to inflict a life-changing event on myself by making me doubt Mark.

I called him for reassurance, but ended up getting humiliated.

Twice.

Because let’s not forget Bombshell Barbie, who draped herself over Mark’s shoulder.

I frown, my head turning to look out the window so Connor doesn’t see my expression.

I’ve always carried extra weight on my petite frame.

And while I like to refer to myself as curvy, I’ve grown to embrace them.

Mostly.

But when I’m around someone who’s model pretty and thin, my insecurities come to the surface.

Connor sure didn’t make you feel average when he kissed you in the bathroom.

I curl my hands into fists, my nails digging half-moons into my palms.

We aren’t thinking about that.

I need a distraction.

Grabbing my coffee, I take a sip before inflicting more misery on Connor. "You look tense.”

His grip tightens on the wheel. His jaw flexes, but he says nothing.

God, this is too easy.

* * *

We’ve been driving for what feels like forever, but I’m having so much fun, I barely notice.

I reach over and begin messing with the radio. I flick through stations, stopping on the cheesiest love song I can find.

He exhales sharply. "Turn that shit off."

I crank it up.

A vein pops in his forehead.

I try not to laugh as I begin loudly singing while he white knuckles the steering wheel.

The bright sun streams through the window, making me warm. It sparks an idea.

My gaze moves to the buttons, searching for the one I want.

Bingo.

I press the button. The roof slowly slides back. Wind whips through the car.

Ahh. That’s so much better.

Connor grits his teeth. "Allie."

I bat my lashes. "Yes, dear?"

"Close. The. Roof."

I smile innocently. "What’s the magic word?"

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he grunts, nearly snapping the steering wheel in half.

I stretch, arching my back. Tilting my head, my hair brushes his arm. I let my fingers trace the hem of my shorts just to see if he notices.

Oh, he notices.

His jaw clenches so tight I hear his teeth grind. His eyes flick toward me, dark and unreadable.

I smirk. "Something wrong?"

He inhales sharply like he’s trying to find the will to live. "You," he mutters.

I grin. "Me?"

"You’re a goddamn terror."

My smile is wide. I’ve been called a lot of things, but never a goddamn terror.

And the way Connor says it, his voice dark and rumbly, sets a smattering of goosebumps over my skin.

Calm down, hormones on parade. This is all fun and games.

I sigh happily.

"This is much better than being on a plane.”

Connor says nothing.

Just grips the wheel like it’s the only thing stopping him from committing a felony.

His entire body radiates tension.

I glance at his lap.

His big, powerful thighs are spread wide, muscles flexed, while his fingers twitch over the gearshift.

He startles me when he grabs my thigh.

His grip is firm. Possessive.

My breath catches.

His fingers tighten slightly.

"Keep testing me, sweetheart,” he growls.

I swallow, my heart thudding hard in my chest.

His hand lingers on my skin — warm, rough, dangerous.

Then he pulls away like he didn’t just brand my skin with his touch.

Like he didn’t just set my entire body on fire and leave me gasping for more.

I blink, forcing myself to breathe.

I glance over at him.

For the first time since he started driving the Barbie car, he actually relaxes into the seat.

He knows he affected me.

I smirk, determination coursing through me.

He doesn’t stand a chance against me.