The Tourist Attraction (Moose Springs, Alaska #1)(42)

“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.”