The Tourist Attraction (Moose Springs, Alaska #1)(52)

“No shuttle bus,” Graham groaned. “Leave me. Save yourself.”

“Come on, big guy,” Zoey said, pulling his arm around her neck and wrapping hers around his waist, giving him something solid to lean on. “It’s not so bad.”

“Zo, I will give you anything you want to convince you to take a rideshare back to the big house. I know people. Good, smooth-driving people who will come pick us up.”

“All of whom will have to drive here first and then take us back. The sooner you toughen up your squishy little spine and get on the shuttle bus, the sooner you can be home.”

“Women aren’t the gentler sex.”

“No, we aren’t. Okay, handsome, in you go.”

She pretty much had to stuff him through the door, and Zoey wasn’t surprised at all when he took a three-seat bench all for the two of them, flopping down dramatically and telling anyone who tried to sit with them they’d rue their decision for the next hour. Unsurprisingly, the sheer volume of space Graham took up encouraged the others to accommodate him.

“I know you feel terrible, but there’s no excuse for this kind of manspreading,” Zoey chided him. “At least get your legs in our area.”

“Manspreading?”

“You know, when guys take way too much space because they think they inherently deserve it.”

Tucking his legs in a few inches more, Graham sighed. “Better? Because my manness can only inverse spread so much.”

The shuttle bus rolled a few feet, then lurched to a stop, turn signal on. Graham groaned and turned his face into her shoulder. Zoey patted him on the back of the neck.

“You’re manspreading again. Tuck ’em up there, handsome.”

“Sorry. It’s been an educational day for my pelvis.”

To his credit, Graham tried to keep his long limbs contained from there out. But the motion sickness medicine finally kicked in, along with the drowsiness. The face hiding mournfully in her shoulder became an actual head sleeping on her shoulder.

And a sleeping Graham sprawled.

“I don’t actually know him,” Zoey told the others in the bus as he began snoring. Aggressively. Taking his chin in her hand, she gave him a little shake. “Graham. You’re driving everyone nuts.”

He blinked at her, gave her a sleepy smile, and then winked. He winked. Then he was out again.

The bus driver picked up his piece of paper, the bus wobbling as he jostled paper, steering wheel, and his intercom.

“On the left, you’ll see the Chugach Mountain Range—”

He was reading the same thing. The exact same spiel that had interested her on the trip there, except they weren’t in Moose Springs, and the mountains were on the right, not the left.

Sleeping Graham said what they all were thinking, a loud snort of disgust, followed by a few choking noises.

About halfway into the trip, Zoey gave up trying to wake Graham and looked out the window. As they drove higher into the mountains, Zoey sighed wistfully. She would have given anything to stop and look around, to hike into these mountains and feel the earth beneath her feet. Smell the fresh air and hear the birds singing in the trees above her head. The need was visceral, like a hand wrapping itself around her heart and pulling her.

Smooshing her forehead against the safety glass and staring longingly was the best she could do.

Only in the last few minutes leading up to their arrival in Moose Springs did Graham start to stir, a feat requiring some significant effort on Zoey’s part. The speed bump just after the Moose Springs Resort gatehouse finally pulled him awake.

Thank goodness, because there was only so much drool her shirt could soak up, and he’d reached maximum capacity.

“Hey there, Zoey Bear.” Sleep made his voice rougher and sexier, lashes framing those warm eyes as he gazed at her.

“Are you feeling better?”

Graham yawned, a mighty yawn, and stretched his muscled arms above his head, vertebrae cracking in a way that must have been pleasant. “Yeah, it was a good nap. How about you?”

“I’m thirty seconds from clawing either my eardrums or your eyeballs out. So please. Pretty please. Move.”

Blinking, Graham stood up, backing into the aisle to give her a clear escape route. “Was I snoring?”

“There are no words for what you were doing. You need a sleep apnea test. You’re at risk for a stroke.”

“Hmm. Would you believe you’re not the first woman to tell me that?” Graham followed at her heels, giving a parting wave to the rest of the bus.

Zoey dutifully tipped the tour guide, then headed inside, sidestepping Diego and his pamphlets as she pulled out her phone. “We may need to use yours to call Lana.”

“What. The. Hell.”

At Graham’s horrified tone, Zoey looked up. Instead of having to track her down—a feat proven difficult this trip—Lana was waiting for them in the lobby, ever-present phone in one hand and a glass of champagne in the other. Head to toe glam luxury, Lana was dressed in the kind of silky red and gold romper that only women of her level of attractiveness could pull off. Not for the first time, Zoey felt woefully outclassed by her friend, but it was impossible to hold it against her when Lana beamed at her.

“Oh, I was hoping you would be here soon. How was the tour?”

“There was a whale.” Zoey tried desperately not to let her disappointment show through.