The Tourist Attraction (Moose Springs, Alaska #1)(53)

“Just one?”

Just one. And a lot of vomit.

“What the hell did you do to my dog, L? Did you bedazzle him?”

“Stop being such a baby. It’s just some bling.”

Graham whistled for Jake, but the animal stretched out at Lana’s feet never moved.

“I told you,” Lana said smugly. “You don’t take nearly as good care of him as you should. Right, dearest?”

Jake barked in complete agreement.

*

Since Graham was sick, Zoey drove him home this time.

Having left his truck at the Tourist Trap earlier, he promised he could catch a ride into town tomorrow with Easton. Zoey didn’t doubt his ability to find someone to help when Graham clearly knew everyone in Moose Springs.

Even though his land was right up against the resort property, the actual access road took a while to reach, meaning he had time to fiddle with the settings on her rental car, finding the better stations—so he claimed—and not making it as hot as a desert in there. Then he went about trying to scrape the crystals cemented to Jake’s freshly clipped and painted toenails with his pocketknife.

“This was invasive,” Graham grumbled. “Who blings someone else’s fur child?”

“Keep those crystals,” Zoey advised. “They’re probably diamond chips.”

“That’s absurd. Even L wouldn’t do that.”

“Wanna bet?”

Shaking his head, Graham kept working, but he did make a careful little pile of crystals on the center console of her rental. They pulled up to his house right as the light started to shift from the bright blue of day to a softer, yellowing color, the only indication evening was approaching.

“Violent illness aside, did you have fun at all?” Zoey asked, setting the car in park.

“I always have fun with you.” He seemed loathe to leave, and to be honest, Zoey wasn’t ready to part either. “Walk a fellow to his door?”

Charmed despite knowing better, Zoey climbed out and offered him her arm. Like the gentleman he was, Graham took it and made a deal of leaning on her for help.

“It was so awful, Zoey.” He turned his head, groaning into the top of hers, leaning in playfully. “Everyone thought it was fish chowder, but no one realized it was poison. My pain is still palpable.”

“You had the chili.” Unable to help pointing that out, she patted his head. “I promise you’ll live.”

“You’re not as cruel as I thought.” Stepping away when they reached the door, Graham started to open it for her, then hesitated.

“I’d invite you in, but I have a firm no tourists rule.”

A quick glance of apology wasn’t quite enough to take the sting from his rejection.

“It’s fine.”

As she turned to leave, Graham caught her fingers, drawing her back. Stepping close, Graham rested a warm, strong hand on her hip, gazing down at her. “It’s not you, Zoey; it’s me. I set a no rotating door policy on my life a long time ago. I’m not wired to live that way, so I keep some boundaries. But that doesn’t mean I want you to leave.”

Softening the words with a sweet smile, Graham held up a finger to say he’d be right back. Disappearing into the house, Graham left Zoey and Jake on the porch, a scratchy puppy tongue licking at her fingers and a strong tail thumping against the back of her knee. He returned moments later, leaving the door open but the screen door shut behind them. Sitting down on the porch steps, Graham lifted a pair of old-fashioned bottled root beers in his hand.

“Thirsty?”

“Definitely.”

Tilting a bottle her way, Graham handed the drink to her. Zoey took a sip of her root beer as Jake stretched out on the step below them, resting his chin on his furry paws. “This is good.”

Jake’s ear flicked between Zoey’s direction and then Graham’s, following the conversation as they spoke.

“Ash’s aunt home brews the stuff and sells it in town if you want to take some home. She sets some aside for the rest of us, because the visitors usually clean her out.”

Us. Them. Clearly, Graham had a line drawn in the sand between the two, and the distaste in his town for “them” was impossible to ignore. Zoey took another sip, tipping her head. “All jokes aside, you don’t like the tourism in town, do you?”

Graham opened his own drink and took a long swig, draining half the bottle. “I wouldn’t say that.”

“You hate it?”

“Closer.” Shrugging, Graham nudged Jake’s furry tail with the toe of his boot. “Let’s just say, I like my town a lot better when we’re left to our own devices. This is a great place. We don’t need idiots wrapping their Ferraris around trees in our front yards.”

She waited, letting him choose his words.

“I was just a kid when the Shaws built that place. Their son, Jackson, and I grew up together. Jax is a good guy, and we had a blast running around up there, causing trouble. But the older I got…I don’t know. Too much crap goes down that shouldn’t. We’re a good town with good people. We try to be welcoming, but at some point, enough is enough.”

Pursing his lips, Graham finally grunted. “I keep telling myself that one of these days, I’ll pull stakes and move north where I won’t have to deal with any of this anymore.”