The Tourist Attraction (Moose Springs, Alaska)

by Sarah Morgenthaler

  “That doesn’t actually hurt.”

  “It’s not supposed to. I’m establishing a defensive perimeter.” Content she was successfully defending her territory, Zoey reached over and stole a bite of his breakfast. Graham could have defended his own territory too—his reflexes weren’t that bad—but her little smirk of victory was worth it.

  “You’re dangerous, Zo.”

  Misunderstanding his meaning, Zoey sighed. “Yes, but a girl needs her Krav Maga. If it means anything, I just wasn’t expecting a chainsaw. And you had that super scary mask.”

  “Which was protecting my face from wood chips.”

  “So you claim.”

  When he leaned in, resting his weight on his forearms and wiggling his fork at her, Zoey flicked his arm in warning. Graham relaxed backward in his seat, nudging his plate toward her so she didn’t have to reach as far to steal from him.

  “So did you make up for lost time yesterday?”

  Zoey cringed in remembrance. “Lana felt bad about missing my calls, so she ‘made it up to me’ too.”

  “Something tells me her version of an apology isn’t quite as carbo-loaded as mine.”

  “No, she felt like taking me to have our body hair violently ripped out by the roots by a woman with anger issues.”

  “Ahh. You met Grace.”

  “You’ve met Grace?”

  “Of course. Grace is my go-to when I need some manscaping.”

  Zoey’s jaw dropped in shock. He leaned over and brushed his thumb over her chin to close it. “Haircuts and beard trims only,” he promised. “But I like the way you think.”

  Blushing furiously, Zoey scrunched her nose at him. “You don’t get your hair cut at the resort.”

  “No, but I’ve been known to sneak in a mani-pedi or two. A guy can care about his cuticles too, you know.”

  “I have no idea how much of what’s coming out of your mouth is true or just your own personal brand of passive-aggressive societal mockery disguised as a sense of humor.”

  Pleasure spread across his face. “Maybe I just call it like I see it.”

  They ate in a silence far more comfortable than should have been expected from a pair with their deeply sordid history of mutual histrionics.

  “Graham? You wanted me to go out with you to breakfast, but I saw the looks they were giving you. I wasn’t supposed to know about this place, was I?”

  “Busted.” Rubbing an awkward hand over the back of his neck, Graham glanced away. “Yeah, part of not getting overrun by the tourists is not letting them know where our favorite places are. I broke the rules. Frankie wasn’t mad, but she was eyeing you to figure out why.”

  “So…why did you?”

  “Honestly? I really don’t know. I just wanted to see you again, and I thought you might like it here.”

  As admissions went, it wasn’t a great one. Yet she didn’t seem to mind. In fact, a defensiveness in her shoulders started to slide away. This time, the silence was awkward, but as he caught her eye, finding himself smiling somewhat stupidly, that same blush was back on her cheeks.

  “This is a really great cinnamon roll. You’re forgiven.”

  He knew she’d see it his way.

  * * *

  Killian Montgomery was exactly what Zoey expected him to be. Handsome, charming, and rich enough to have the grace not to rub it in her face or the face of anyone else around them.

  The whatsits, Haleigh and Enzo, were far less secure in their importance in the world. There was money and then there was money. And while Enzo seemed to love throwing around names and places as much as Haleigh loved throwing around her designer clothing, Killian just relaxed back, taking it all in.

  Even though Zoey couldn’t eat another bite without going into a diabetic coma, she agreed to join them for a late breakfast, sipping water while Haleigh gave the waitress a hard time over the toastiness of her toast, the saltiness of her caviar, and the freshness of the orange juice watering down her champagne.

  Not for the first time, Zoey saw the bored, disillusioned look in a member of the Montgomery family’s eyes, although with far less eye rolling than Lana was currently doing. The Montgomerys might have been jaw-droppingly wealthy, but they were always exceedingly kind to the people around them. Zoey bet Killian and Lana had never given anyone a hard time over toast in their lives, and clearly neither were impressed by Haleigh’s attitude.

  With a promise she would spend the evening with them, Zoey called a rideshare to take her from the hotel to the car rental place just outside of town. The driver was young and drove a bit fast, but he was far cheaper than arranging a shuttle with the hotel and easier than catching a ride with the preoccupied Lana.

  To his credit, Graham’s suggestion for where to get a rental car was a good one. She’d asked for Leah and got her husband, Collin, instead. After an awkward exchange in which Zoey learned she absolutely sucked at name dropping, a woman with a “Leah” name tag showed up, two young boys at her heels.

  The undeniable smell of reindeer dog and fries wafted from the unmarked paper take-out bag in her hands.

  “You would not believe the line today,” she told her husband. “It actually went around the corner of the store. If he didn’t let me cut in front of everyone, we’d never get anything over there.” Leah shook her head in disbelief. “Here, eat while it’s still warm. I’ll finish up.”

  Sure enough, when they set the contents of the take-out bag on the waiting area coffee table, the hot dogs had cute little paper reindeer antlers.

  Zoey’s stomach rumbled despite the fact Vixen and Comet were being slathered with ketchup in the corner, and she wasn’t even hungry.

  What was the man doing to her? He and his food had crawled into her brain.

  Leah picked up the rental paperwork Zoey had started, read the name on the top, and then she glanced up.

  “So you’re Zoey. Graham said you might be coming by. Can I see your driver’s license? Thomas, James, share with each other. Those fries are for both of you.”

  Convinced it was easier to get ax murdered up here than previously assumed, Zoey had kept her driver’s license in her pocket since the chainsaw, crotch kick debacle. If someone found her beneath a cedar stump, she wanted at least to be identified. Handing the license over, Zoey glanced at the kids. Their fries smelled so good, Zoey’s stomach rumbled a second time, loud enough for the other woman to hear.

  Leah palmed the license and set it on the scanner. “Yeah, me too. I snuck a few fistfuls of fries on the way home. I’d say go get some after you leave here, but it’s brutal over there right now.”

  “Is the Tourist Trap always busy?”

  “From the moment he opens the doors. He started closing between lunch and dinner just to have a chance to breathe. They wait outside like a pack of wolves.”

  As she made a copy of Zoey’s driver’s license, Leah asked, “How do you know Graham?”

  “I kicked him in the groin” seemed bad, especially since this was a friend of his. Or at least someone the diner owner knew well enough that his name meant Zoey not paying the exorbitant prices listed on the sign behind Leah. “He recently kept me out of prison” seemed equally awful.

  Curious eyes locked onto her, and Zoey realized she’d hesitated too long. “We met at his restaurant.” Yes, that was safe.

  “You mean the bane of his existence,” Leah chuckled. “Graham is my husband’s cousin. He’s our sons’ godfather. Thomas and James adore him.” Nodding her head toward the two boys playing in the corner, she added, “I’m praying nothing ever happens to us, because they’ll have to take care of Graham, not the other way around.” Even as she said it, a fond look crossed her face. “Okay, here.”

  “Don’t you need my credit card?”

  “This one’s on the house.” Leah wasn’t hiding her curiosity very well. “Graham asked
for me to be nice to you, and he’s never personally referred anyone to us before. So I’m guessing you did more than just meet at his restaurant. He actively dislikes most of the people who come through his door.”

  “I think he’s tired of having to drive me around,” Zoey said awkwardly, pushing her glasses up on her nose. One day, she would have a pair that didn’t slip, but first she needed a rental car. Still, it felt wrong to have these nice people think the wrong thing.

  Leaving the keys on the desk between them, Zoey hesitated. “This is really nice of you, but you might not want to do me any favors. Full disclosure, I sort of attacked him, got us both arrested, and he might not be able to have children now because of me.”

  Unconcerned, Leah’s grin just grew. She picked up the keys and placed them in Zoey’s hand.

  “Bring it back with the tank full. Don’t worry about the scratch on the door; we know it’s there.”

  The car they’d given her was a cute little SUV, and while it had a few marks on the outside and one deep gouge in the paint near the passenger side mirror, it was clean and smelled like fresh air, not air fresheners, when she climbed in.

  The freedom of having her own vehicle left Zoey feeling like that fresh air was filling her with new life. Okay, so maybe the first day…two days…of her vacation had gone awry. But this was her dream trip.

  She was going to make the most of it.

  * * *

  The day started so well. Then the customers showed up, and it all went to hell.

  Being sore hadn’t helped, especially when it meant Graham couldn’t move as quickly as he wanted. And while he normally would have ripped through the lunch crowd by two and felt little to no remorse closing the doors until the dinner shift, for once, Graham stayed open, trying to get the line somewhere close to gone. Finally, he gave up and acknowledged that he was working a double shift. Or a full shift. Whatever.

  He’d trained the town and the resort to not bother him between the hours of two and six, so it died down to a reasonable trickle by the time trouble in Jimmy Choos came walking through the door.

  “What’s a dame like her doing in a place like this, Jake?”

  The border collie at his feet whined.

  Lana always looked like a million bucks. But when she walked into his diner this time, she was dressed a little closer to the actual number. The slump in her shoulders didn’t match the perfectly tailored, cream-colored jumpsuit and black designer heels. The man with her seemed more interested in talking on his phone in the corner of the diner than ordering, so she approached the counter alone.

  “Sorry, L,” Graham said in greeting. “I can’t serve you anything today. I’ve seen what you do with the ketchup bottle, and I can’t afford the dry cleaning bills.”

  Flapping a hand at him, Lana focused on the customer seated closest to where Graham worked.

  “May I sit here when you’re done?” She asked politely, unaware of the effect of her thousand-watt smile on the poor fool. Lana waited patiently for him to decide if the comfort of a highly coveted seat at the counter was worth accommodating her request.

  Apparently, it was. “Erm, yeah. Sure. I’m done anyway.”

  Taking a napkin from the dispenser, Lana settled into the seat, delicately wiping residual crumbs from the previous occupant into a little pile.

  “Is it time for the air horn?” she asked hopefully. “This place is starting to look hammered.”

  “I’m not closing today. I’ll wipe things down in a minute.”

  “You? Clean? Love, the day you lift a finger to do work you don’t have to is the day I renounce the family business and go bunk up with Zoey.”

  “What’s wrong with bunking up with Zoey?”

  “Absolutely nothing, which is why I would stay with her. Although she has a turtle. I’m not sure I can live in a house with a turtle.”

  “It would be a travesty of epic proportions,” he murmured.

  “You do know they carry salmonella.” Lana shuddered. “I’m not interested in a repeat of that particular experience. Once was more than enough.”

  “The turtle’s named after a Renaissance artist, isn’t it?” When she raised a confused eyebrow at him, Graham shook his head. “Never mind. Hey, Lana? You and I need to talk. Something’s off with you. Since when do you bail on friends and not pick up your phone?”

  Lana hummed playfully. “I’m in trouble. Be careful. I might like it.”

  “I’m serious. What are you doing?”

  “That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out.” Sighing with feigned distress, Lana leaned against the bar. “What would you say if I bought the resort?”

  “I’d say I’m packing my belongings and running north as fast as humanly possible. You don’t have the staying power for a business like that one, and by the time you were bored enough to sell it, my town would be ruined. Don’t. Buy. The resort.”

  Graham held her eyes, trying to use his frown and all his nonexistent telewhatever powers to psychically influence the most dangerous person he knew.

  With an actual sigh, Lana set her elbows on the bar and stared sightlessly at the wall behind him. She only pulled out of her head when Graham set a shot glass in front of her with a single fry in it. Then, because he genuinely liked her, no matter how much of a pain in the butt she was, he added a second one.

  It just seemed wrong to have an L without some resemblance of happiness on her face. “You look like you need a double. Talk to me, goose.”

  “If I do, you’re going to be mad at me.”

  “You’re not actually buying the resort, are you?” Concern creased his brow deep enough he could feel the lines digging into his skull. “I’d love having you around more, but it’s a bad idea.”

  “Why?”

  “Because the only positive thing about the place is the Shaws. Jax grew up with us. They raised their son here. They’re not local but they aren’t—”

  Pursing his lips, Graham stopped himself from saying something hurtful, no matter how much he believed it.

  “They aren’t the enemy,” Lana provided, her beautiful features hardening, even though her voice was soft.

  “No. The Shaws are just the people who made it easier for the enemy to cross behind friendly lines.”

  Awkward silence fell between them until Lana frowned, reaching for a fry. “I’m not buying the resort. Your deepest, darkest fears are yet to be realized. Speaking of…” Lana waggled her eyebrows comically. “I’ve been busy, but I’m not blind. Someone’s been consorting with the enemy.”

  Leaning on the counter, Graham stole her second fry and shot that sucker without a chaser. “L, do I have a story for you.”

  Chapter 6

  The adventure excursions weren’t cheap. When she had booked them nearly six months prior, Zoey hadn’t cared.

  There simply wasn’t any way she was traveling all the way to Alaska and not doing every single thing possible to make the most of her vacation. Digging deep into her daily living money, Zoey paid ahead of time for a “Deluxe Excursion Package” through Moose Springs Adventurers, the top excursion package the budget off-site travel company offered. And if she lived off ramen and peanut butter for months to compensate, it was worth every penny.

  Moose Springs Resort provided their own arrangements for experiencing Alaska, but those catered to a clientele financially superior to herself, starting with a deluxe excursion package about four times pricier than the one Zoey reserved, with fewer activities on the list. Their “Luxury Package” and the “Too Stupidly Expensive for Any Mere Mortal Package” were heavily advertised in her and Lana’s room, but she doubted that was the limit to what the resort was willing to offer. With their own helicopter landing site on the grounds and a fleet of staff ready to jump when a guest so much as sneezed, they could have arranged any type of adventure Zoey could dream of, as long as th
e price was right. Which…well…it wasn’t.

  Zoey was going deluxe with Moose Springs Adventurers, and that was that.

  Now that she wasn’t drunk on a Growly Bear, incarcerated, or letting herself be stranded somewhere, Zoey was ready. She was pumped. She was driving down small, winding mountain roads, singing at the top of her lungs to the radio, and letting the wind whip through her hair and fill her nostrils with the scent of the Alaskan wild.

  When a small sign poked out of the tree line, Zoey almost missed it. “So much for advertising,” she murmured, performing a careful three-point turn in the middle of the road. “Come on, tires. Stay out of the ditch.”

  Ditch wasn’t the right word. Cliffside drop-off was more accurate.

  Her first excursion was a guided horseback ride through the mountains, the brochure provided by Moose Springs Adventurers promising wildlife sightings of everything from deer to grizzly bears. Two and a half hours of tranquil hoofbeats, softly swishing manes and tails, and stunning terrain.

  Zoey turned onto a rough, uneven lane with heavy, large-stone gravel difficult to drive over. The tires on her SUV slid, fighting for traction, so she slowed down to a crawl. At the end of a mile-long drive, Zoey turned a bend and inhaled a breath, eyes wide. The heavily forested road opened to a clearing, blanketed with rolling pastures, a small pond, and several barns dotting the landscape. There were even those big round bales of hay stacked along the side of the largest building where everyone was parking.

  Only a few horses remained in the pastures, wandering around and nibbling on the short green grasses available to them. The rest were tied up beneath a long, open-sided barn, already saddled, their noses clipped to the gate and a row of round, beautiful horse butts swishing their tails to shoo away flies.

  Zoey had made sure to leave early in case she had gotten lost, but she’d underestimated how long the line would be, how many liability release forms she would have to fill out, and how chaotic the group of riders would be as they raided a stack of protective riding helmets.