The Tourist Attraction (Moose Springs, Alaska #1)(50)

“Yes, and she won my last reindeer dog eating competition. Proper chowder is an art form.”

“Mmmmm. It’s soooooo good.” Zoey moaned in pleasure.

“Don’t go all Sally on me now.”

She popped an oyster cracker in her mouth, then squeaked as the boat dipped, splashing water over the bow and chowder over her lap. With a sad little noise, she uprighted the Styrofoam cup and scraped the last third of her meal off her jeans.

“Karma.” Graham nodded sagely. “For saying I’m not cool.”

“I didn’t say it,” Zoey replied, a cute little smirk on her lips. “I thought it, but I never said it.”

Graham winced as he got kicked in the shin this time. “I really do love kids,” he promised her, eyes watering.

“There’s a viewing deck,” she offered. “It’s probably less violent.”

“Yeah, let’s do that. Children, have a lovely day and enjoy your whale watching.”

The little girl stuck her tongue out at him, and Graham almost—almost—caved to doing the same right back at her.

As the boat left the harbor, they found a little coffee station near the center of the main deck. Unfortunately, everyone else had discovered the same thing, meaning they had a wait on their hands. At least no one was kicking him anymore.

“You said poodles make terrible girlfriends,” Zoey said randomly, causing Graham to blink and try to catch up. “Back at the resort. Is this experience talking?”

“If you think I’m dumb enough to go down that train of thought, you’re crazy,” he said decidedly. “But I will say that I like women who wear mud boots just as much as women in Manolo Blahniks. Maybe more.”

“Lana thinks you’re a complete snob.” She arched an eyebrow. “I might be starting to agree with her.”

“It’s possible.” Chuckling, Graham poured himself a cup of coffee, then stepped aside and waited while Zoey fiddled with her own. The line was impatient, but Graham took position beside her, smiling congenially at the other passengers while guarding her right to get her coffee to creamer ratio absolutely perfect. “Hey, Zoey?”

“Hmm?”

“I’d like you even if you had fuzzy duck slippers.”

A cute blush reached her cheeks. But was that guilt in her eyes? Unable to stop himself, Graham shifted closer, smiling down at her. “You have some, don’t you?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Coffees in hand, they stationed themselves at a window near the front of the viewing deck. The intercom screeched, making them both wince as the captain came back on. “Brace yourselves, ladies and gentlemen. The next few minutes will be particularly rough.”

No kidding. As they picked up speed, heading out of the harbor, the boat rose and fell on the waves so aggressively, Graham felt like a bobber in the ocean.

“To distract yourselves, I’d recommend looking out to the left. Sometimes we can see dolphins swimming alongside the boats in this passage.”

Zoey went up to her toes as she looked out the window, trying to see anything remotely close to a splash caused by an animal.

“Graham, I don’t see anything.”

“Don’t worry. These guys get paid to find—oh crap.”

The boat hit rougher water, sending them staggering and Graham’s coffee nearly spilling onto Zoey. “Sheesh, level it out, man.”

“The captain wants everyone in their seats for the next couple minutes,” a crew member said, coming past them.

Neither of them wanted to return to the still-crying little girl and her leg-attacking brother, so they found a small bench against the wall, barely big enough for the two to sit squished together. Graham’s stomach lurched at the roiling of the vessel, and he focused on the view outside to distract himself.

“See that?” He nodded at the shoreline in the distance.

“What am I looking at?”

“I don’t know. I figured you would.”

She gripped the wall for purchase. “Landmasses aren’t my expertise.”

“I’ll make it up for you. Okay, right there, that’s Moose Turd Isle.” When Zoey slapped his arm lightly in admonition, Graham wondered if she knew her attempt not to giggle was all the encouragement he needed to bust out his inner thirteen-year-old.

Amid his describing Big Bazonga Mountain far off in the distance, a look of disgust passed Zoey’s face. “Eww. Another one?”

“Another what?”

“Have you noticed how many people are throwing up?”

Honestly, Graham had been doing his best not to think about it. Even as they reached relatively calmer water, the waves were still enough to have the boat pitching about.

Now that she pointed it out, though, there really were a lot of people growing sick.

“We got another one. The kid with the pointy shoe.”

“Eek, his mother too,” Zoey added.

Everyone was throwing up. With each new gagging noise, another broke ranks and began hurling too. Even Graham was getting grossed out, the smell leaving him more than a little nauseous himself.

Zoey kept twisting around, looking at the other passengers in concern. “Do you think they’ll cancel the trip if too many people get sick?”