The Tourist Attraction (Moose Springs, Alaska #1)(63)

Easton gave him a look that spoke volumes. “You need to hire help.”

“Yeah, yeah, but if someone was relying on me for their paycheck, then I’d actually have to care about this place.”

“You mean it, don’t you?”

Choosing not to answer, Graham split his focus between laying out a fresh set of patties and the sexy little bit in the corner. Easton came back, looking just as annoyed as when he left.

“The one with the weird makeup made a pass at me.”

“Who, L?”

“No, the brunette.”

Six feet if she was an inch, the woman in question wasn’t the first supermodel to come into his diner. Graham didn’t recognize her, and he also didn’t like how she was seated next to Zoey but wasn’t acknowledging her presence. “Eh, don’t bother, buddy. Not worth the headache.”

“Looks who’s talking,” Easton said, making Graham frown.

Over with Zoey, Jake was having a blast. Zoey had found his dog a seat and a pair of noise-canceling headphones. Her hands in his coat and the leash draped over her knee seemed to be all the security blanket Jake needed.

“You jealous?”

Looking away from her table to the hulking beast of a man standing at the counter, Graham snorted.

“Of her? Naw, Jake still loves me.”

“I meant of him.”

Graham opened a bottle of beer and passed it over to his friend. “I plead the fifth. But if I don’t stop staring at her, people are going to talk.”

“People are already talking.”

Graham shook his head. “Great.”

“It’s your own fault. You’ve been following her around since she came to town like she’s got a leash on both of you.”

“Lovely imagery, buddy. My male pride thanks you.”

Easton shrugged. “Just calling it like I see it.”

“Zoey, Zoey, Zoey.”

The table of awfulness began chanting her name. Poor thing’s face was bright red, and she kept shaking her head with the kind of vehemence of someone who really, really didn’t want to sing in front of a group of strangers.

“You’re staring again,” Easton rumbled. Smug jerk had the audacity to look amused.

“She’s a customer. I have to pay attention to my customers.”

Even Graham wasn’t buying it. Easton took a long draw on his beer, then he said, “You’re screwed. Ash wanted me to tell you that.”

“Thanks, man. Duly noted.”

Leah and Collin had joined Ash and Easton’s table, along with half a dozen others who found karaoke night to be better than a movie for entertainment value. The thing was, too many of these people were so utterly convinced of their own masterfulness that they took it way, way too seriously. Every once in a while, one of his people would go up there too, a passive-aggressive mockery of those attempting to sing their hearts out.

“Lana, I don’t want to sing!”

“You’ll be fine.”

“Come on, Zoey. I bet you have a great voice.” Killian squeezed her hand in encouragement.

Graham’s own hand squeezed the ketchup bottle so hard the top popped off.

Easton grunted. “Is he a problem?”

Graham didn’t know. What he did know was marching over there and throwing Killian Montgomery the fifty-eighth through the window was not in his best interest. All the effort would gain him would be an embarrassed Zoey, perhaps another trip to the drunk tank with Jonah, and a potential lawsuit Graham would not win.

But it sure was tempting.

“Don’t let them bully you, Zoey Bear.” Graham popped a fry into his mouth, ignoring the curious eyes his comment drew. “They only want you up there so they don’t have to sing.”

Lana twisted in her seat, still sipping her Growly Bear. Usually, she chugged the things, but she was milking it tonight. “Killian wants her up there because he can’t sing. I want her up there because she can.”

“Lana, no,” Zoey insisted.

“Come on. Your signature song. Just one song, and I will leave you alone the rest of the night.”

“The rest of the night, Lana. You promise.”

“I swear.”

Grudgingly, Zoey rose and went to the cleared area, Jake’s leash in her hand. She fiddled with the microphone with her free hand, not looking anyone directly in the eye.

Up until this point, it had subconsciously occurred to Graham that Zoey was as close to perfect as he could have imagined. And there was a very big difference between perfect and perfectly real.

As she stood there with Jake at her feet and a shy blush on her cheeks, she was perfect. Then Zoey opened her mouth and showed Graham how real she could be.

It wasn’t that she had a bad voice. Zoey had a good voice. Not an award-winning voice but a second row in Sunday’s choir type of voice. Pleasant. Sweet. Comforting. None of which matched her…unfortunate…choice in songs.

Easton stopped drinking his beer, for once startled. “Is she singing—?”

“Yeah.”

“By—?”

Graham tilted his head, brain trying to understand what he was hearing and seeing. “Oh, yeah. East, is this really happening?”

“It’s happening,” Easton grunted, a note of confusion in his voice. “But I don’t think it should.”