Zoey would never know what she would have answered, dangerously distracted by Graham’s proximity and far too focused on the feel of his thumb tracing the smallest of patterns on her wrist.
“Well, tonight’s a bust. Are we bailing? Or are we throwing them out?” A slender woman approached, her features creased in annoyance. The stone-faced mountain of a man behind her was impossible to read, but he certainly wasn’t smiling.
“Ash, Easton, this is Zoey. Zoey, welcome to the Lockett twins. They’re trouble. Keep an eye on them. Guys, Zoey’s even more trouble. You’re going to love each other.”
“Twins?”
“I know. Spitting image, huh?”
Never in her life had Zoey ever seen two people who looked less alike. They were both tall and they had the same warm brown eyes, but everything else was completely different. Easton was the tallest man she’d ever been next to, with shoulders that wouldn’t fit through most doors. Ash was slender, maybe six foot if she went on her tiptoes. Ash’s short, spiky hair was bubblegum pink with turquoise tips, and she had more piercings in her ears than Zoey could safely count without staring too long. She was easily one of the most beautiful women Zoey had ever met.
Zoey supposed somewhere beneath all that beard, Easton had a face.
“Stay if you want. I’m out.” Ash shot a disgusted look at Zoey’s companions, then headed for the door. Easton stayed, dropping down to a stool several seats away, focused on the UFC fight on the television behind the bar.
Graham turned to Zoey, lips curved with amusement. “Ash doesn’t like tourists.”
“I’m beginning to see why.” When Zoey frowned at Enzo, he caught her glaring at him and gave a cheeky smirk. Turning her back on him, Zoey focused on Graham instead.
“I didn’t win you. But I’d like to buy you a drink in apology.”
“We spend a lot of time apologizing to each other. I don’t think you have anything to apologize for.” His kindness cut through her displeasure, bringing her focus right back to him. “How about we make a deal? No apologies unless someone really deserves it.”
They shook in agreement, and when he hooked her pinkie finger and made her pinkie swear on top of it, the rest of Zoey’s upset disappeared.
“You’re doing it wrong,” she insisted. “That’s not how you pinkie swear.”
“That’s not how you pinkie swear. Alaska is more adept at these things.”
Somehow it turned into a heated discussion while simultaneously becoming a pinkie war, which Zoey lost badly because Graham might play fair, but he sure wasn’t going to take it easy on her. Pinkie muscle for pinkie muscle, he had her solidly outmatched.
Zoey didn’t see Lana approach until she was right there, watching them in their finger death battle.
“We’re taking off,” Lana told Zoey before turning to Graham. “And I’m stealing Zoey this time. Sorry to ruin the fun, but she’s mine tonight. We’ve got some hot tub time to catch up on.”
“That’s just rubbing salt in the wound,” Graham decided. “All right, ladies, a guy knows when he’s second-best. See how they treat me?”
Rick and Easton just ignored him. Easton focused on the fight, and Rick was trying to cover how uncomfortable being around Lana made him. The poor guy had cleaned the same glass four times since Lana had stepped up to the bar. As Lana headed toward the door, Graham didn’t watch her go. Hmm. Zoey liked that. She waved her fingers in goodbye and started to leave, but Graham caught her hand halfway to the door, again asking her to wait.
“Hey, Zoey? Have you noticed L’s been off today? More distracted than normal?”
“Yeah, a little. I know this is a work trip for her, but I haven’t seen her as much as I thought I would. She seems stressed.”
Brow furrowed, Graham glanced at the door, to the woman waiting outside. “That’s what I thought too.”
Warmed by his concern, Zoey squeezed his hand. “It’s nice of you to worry.”
“I don’t like tourists, Zoey.” Leaning over, Graham spoke quietly in her ear. “But I love my friends. Keep me in the loop, okay? If something’s wrong, we’ll take care of it.”
And as he headed to the bar, back to Easton and Rick, back to a life and routine foreign to her, Zoey couldn’t help but smile.
She didn’t know this man, but somehow, she believed him completely.
Chapter 7
“Your mother made pot roast last night. The really good recipe from Easton’s grandmother. You know the one.”
As he pulled out of his drive, Graham put his cell phone on speaker and set it on the seat next to his hip. “Yeah, Dad, I know the one.” Half-asleep, he eyed the bucket of coffee balanced between his legs.
Graham’s family was a close one, and he made a point to call his parents as often as he could. He knew they missed him since moving to Anchorage for his mother’s work. But he hadn’t factored in enough time this morning to cover a detailed explanation of the week’s activities. They kept busy, the Barnetts. As the designated lazy one of the family, Graham highly suspected he was adopted.
“She’s also knitting you a scarf. Make sure you love the scarf.”
“I always love the scarves.” He did. They were good scarves.
“Did you tell him about the scarf?” His mother’s voice called in the background. “I made him a new scarf.”
“He knows you made a new scarf,” Graham’s father replied.
Both had become harder of hearing in the last few years, so the volume of the phone conversation had grown increasingly loud. “Does he want some leftover pot roast? Ask him about the pot roast.”
“I don’t need the pot roast, Dad.” Trying to interject failed. Neither one was listening to him, so Graham waited patiently until his mother replaced his father on the phone.
“Hi, sweetie. We missed you last night. I made that pot roast. You know Ruby Lou Lockett’s recipe?”
With an indulgent nod, Graham agreed. “Yep, Ma. I know the recipe.”
“I’m having your dad drive the leftovers down to you. It’s your favorite.”
Knowing he was outmatched, Graham capitulated. “Okay, but I have to work all day. How about we have the pot roast the next time I see you? Maybe in the next couple days?” Before she could ask when that would be, Graham’s phone beeped with another call. “Hey, Ma, I’ve got to take this other call. Love you.”
“This better be important,” he drawled, switching to the other line. “I’m going to have to start that whole conversation over again.” The truck’s front right tire caught a pothole, splashing coffee in his lap, bringing a curse to his lips.
“Food safety is in town,” a teenager’s bored voice told him. “They just caught Mom.”
“Harold alert, huh? I’ll pass it on. Tell Luce I’m sorry, and thanks for taking one for the team.”
Hanging up, Graham pulled to the side of the road. “On a Friday too. You sneaky son of a bitch. You think we won’t duck you on the busiest day of the week, don’t you?”
The Alaskan Food Safety and Sanitation inspector was getting inventive. Unfortunately, Lucy’s One-Stop was closest to the main highway running through the mountains, just before the turn-off to Moose Springs. Everyone in Moose Springs knew everyone else, and Graham kept the numbers of every single restaurant owner, bar, and food-serving establishment in his phone. One mass message was all it took to warn the town to gird their respective loins.
As he received a plethora of thank you messages, general grumpiness, and a few choice phrases about timing, Graham absently scratched the ears of his passenger.
“Well, buddy. Looks like today was the wrong day for me to sneak you into work with me.”
Tongue lolling out, Jake wagged his tail furiously.
“Who am I forgetting? I feel like I’m forgetting someone.”
The border collie barked twice, his bl
ind eyes turning toward the window, nose snuffling at whatever scent he caught in the crisp morning air.
“Yeah, I suppose. Think she’ll be excited to hear from me?”
Jake whined.
“Good point,” Graham agreed as he dialed her number. “I don’t think she’s ever forgiven me for—hey, Hannah. It’s me.”
“It’s a little early for you to be bothering me, don’t you think?” She yawned, clearly tired from coming off a midnight shift at the resort.
“Early or late?” Graham joked. “Hey, FSS is on their way.”
There was a pregnant pause, followed by the kind of sigh only the truly exhausted could utter. Then a string of expletives that made Graham snicker into his coffee.
“And you warned everyone already?”
“The least I can do,” he replied modestly.
“Looks like I’m going back to work. The day manager has a doctor’s appointment and isn’t coming in until eleven. You suck, you know that, right?”
“Love you too, Hannah.”
A growl and the ending of their call was her reply. Chuckling, Graham took another sip of his coffee, just as a familiar patrol car pulled up next to him.
“Everything all right, Graham?”
“Yeah, it’s a Harold alert. Lucy’s boy called.”
A pained expression crossed the police officer’s features. “Dang. I was looking forward to breakfast too. Do you think Frankie’s will still be open for the next fifteen?”
“I doubt it. Better luck tomorrow, Jonah.”
Making a second person sigh that day, Jonah drove off, heading toward the One-Stop out near the highway. If Lucy had already been hit, at least she would stay open today. And with two small children, a pregnant wife with her own job, and as much overtime as he could handle, Graham doubted Jonah had more than some Slim Jims and a few energy shots in his squad car.
This would be a long, hungry day for Jonah unless someone had mercy on the poor schmuck and snuck him something from the resort.
Graham pulled onto the road, resisting the urge to drive faster than normal. When FSS came to town, it was every man, woman, and moose for themselves. Jonah was on his own.
The last FSS inspector had been a kind, no-nonsense Native Alaskan woman whom Graham adored. She’d spent too much of her very precious time helping him get his diner up to code before opening. He’d been there for her first baby’s christening, and he still exchanged Christmas cards with the family every year. But three years ago, she had been promoted, and the town’s beloved FSS officer was replaced by Harold.
And oh. Did they hate Harold.
Moose Springs wasn’t big on change, especially not the kind of change that took away the people they cared about. Still, no one would have been actively unfriendly if it weren’t for poor Rick down at the pool hall. On his first surprise visit into town—because Harold preferred his surprise visits to a friendly message saying he was coming by—Harold had taken Rick entirely by surprise. Rick only served frozen pizza and alcohol as snacks for his customers, but Harold had gone through the place with a fine-toothed comb and a point to prove.
By the time he was done, he’d had Rick’s now ex-wife in tears and the quiet, kind pool hall owner ready to take a swing at him. Harold moved on to Frankie at the bakery, then Graham himself that day before heading up to wreak his personal havoc on the resort.
Graham wasn’t fond of the power hungry, especially when they actively hurt his friends and community. So they’d started a “Harold watch” program. Undoubtedly, he’d get one of them. There was no helping it. Harold was as determined as he was mean.
But Moose Springs jumped for no man. Especially not one who liked making people sweat.
When he reached the Tourist Trap, Graham parked in the back out of habit. Whistling a little tune to himself, he wrote a paper sign saying they’d be closed for the day, taping it to the inside of the window. He’d learned his lesson about just leaving the doors closed on an unexpected day off. At least his lunch shift in lockup with Zoey had only been met with a few angry reviews and one strongly worded phone call.
Sometimes the tourists got a little unruly when denied their food. Graham had a cracked window and some dented dumpsters to prove it.
Even as he hung the sign, Jake’s ears perked up. A sleek black Lamborghini pulled in front of the diner. Two familiar people in the previous night’s clothes tumbled out of the sports car, leaning on each other as they staggered toward the front door.
“Great,” Graham murmured to his dog. “These two.”
“Are you open?” Enzo knocked loudly on the glass door, even though Graham was standing right there, face inches away. “Hellooooo.”
“It’s nine in the morning. What do you think?”
“Come on, man. My woman’s got the munchies.”
“And yet I still won’t be opening.”
Enzo flipped him off, which Graham chuckled at, shaking his head good-naturedly. But when he saw Enzo pull a small bottle out of his pocket and take a hard swig before climbing back in the sports car, Graham saw red.
Graham was out the door, hearing it hit against the side of the diner with a loud crack. “Hey!”
“Maybe they’re opening?” Haleigh paused halfway to the passenger door, glazed eyes sparking with hope. “I want a burger so bad.”
Striding to the driver’s side door, Graham smacked his arm on the top of the Lamborghini. “There are people here, jackass. This is a town with kids who play in their yards, and you’re driving drunk.”
“Bite me.”
Okay. Well, if that was how today was going to play…
Graham wasn’t the biggest of guys, but he’d earned his fair share of strength hauling downed logs out of the woods for his carving. He was more than capable of snagging this idiot by the collar and hauling him right back out of his car. Enzo took a sloppy swing at him and missed, stumbling. Graham didn’t bother returning the favor. In another time and place, Enzo might have put up a better fight, but his eyes were glazed with more than alcohol.
“Do you know who I am?” Enzo demanded.
Graham frowned at him. “I couldn’t care less. Get in the back seat.”
“What?”
“Either I call the cops on you and risk getting stuck here to be Harold-ed, or I drive you two idiots home.”
“There isn’t a back seat.”
“Noooooo seat…” Haleigh echoed before dissolving into mindless giggles all over again.
“That’s your problem to figure out.”
Every moment Enzo and Haleigh blinked stupidly at him, Harold got closer. So Graham just aimed them both at the passenger seat and gave a little nudge, letting the pieces fall as they may.
Which was how Graham ended up in a stupidly expensive sports car, his dog’s wagging butt on a Prada purse. A drunken Haleigh cooed and petted Jake, her own butt in the way every time Graham had to shift. Beneath dog, purse, and woman was a very squashed Enzo, half-passed out.
“Someone kill me,” Graham muttered to himself.
Haleigh poked her half-conscious boyfriend with a long fingernail. “Killian’s going to kill you if he finds out someone else drove.”
Enzo’s response was a garbled mumble.
“This is your idea of a vacation, huh?” Graham ignored the confused gateman at the resort entrance and just kept going. When he pulled up in front of the hotel, the result was too many bodies tumbling out into the waiting valet’s arms.
Jake wasn’t as familiar with their location as other places in town. Tucking his tail, he whined as all the new smells assaulted him.
“Jake, stay.” A firm barking order glued his pup’s paws to the pavement as Graham tossed the keys to a second valet and rounded the back of the car. He scooped Jake up under one arm, catching Haleigh around the waist to keep the weaving woman on her heel
s and not face-planted on pavement.
Since Enzo had been an ass last night to Zoey, Graham didn’t mind watching him trip and tumble to the concrete sidewalk.
“These belong to you,” he told the staff, shaking his head at the two drunks. “Don’t let them drive until you’re sure they’re sober.”
“Sir, we can’t—”
A snarl of frustration pulled from Graham’s throat as he handed Haleigh off to a valet. “They’re. Drunk. Handle it, or I’m going directly to the Shaws.”
“Sir. Remain calm. Please, stay calm.”
Closing his eyes, Graham counted to ten, then counted backward from ten, then thought about football for a while. Then he opened his eyes and looked at the kid standing in front of him. Good old Grass had come to the valets’ rescue, eyes reddened from the night shift and expression determined. Armed with a cell phone and some sort of martial arts stance, Grass edged between the valets and Graham, keeping one eye on the inebriated pair being helped into the hotel and one on Graham. The phone was probably already set to 911.
“I have a puppy.” Hoisting Jake higher up his side, Graham tried to look unthreatening. “Can’t ninja-kick a guy with a puppy.”
“Sir, that’s a full-grown dog, sir.”
“Kid, you have got to lighten up.”
“Sir, remain calm!”
“I am calm!”
Hmm. Yelling hadn’t helped because Grass had his hands up, ready to rumble. Groaning, Graham stepped back from the situation.
“Okay. I really need to stop coming to this place.”
Moving away from the hotel’s entrance, Graham pulled out his phone, deciding of all his friends, Easton would give him the least amount of crap for having to come pick him up. Before he could make the call, Jake began to whine, his “I recognize someone” whine. Or maybe it was an “I have to pee” whine. He stepped on the wide, manicured lawn and set Jake on the ground.
“Fine, buddy. Do what you gotta do, then we’re out of here.”
Jake was off across the grounds like a shot. Cursing at his own stupidity, Graham jogged after him.
The Tourist Attraction (Moose Springs, Alaska) Page 13
