The Tourist Attraction (Moose Springs, Alaska #1)(41)

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 blind eyes turning toward the window, nose snuffling at whatever scent he caught in the crisp morning air.