The Tourist Attraction (Moose Springs, Alaska #1)(83)
“Fun to watch too.” Setting a hip against the sink, Ash playfully aimed the sprayer toward her twin. “You’re smelling a little ripe yourself, East. Want the same?”
“I’ve been in the woods all night,” he rumbled. “What’s your excuse?”
“Children, behave.” Stripping his now soaked dress shirt off, Graham grabbed a kitchen towel from the stack of freshly laundered ones. Scrubbing the water from his hair and face, he turned back to his friends. “I don’t suppose anyone was nice enough to bring me a change of clothes? Or my dog?”
“No, we just figured we should sober you up before the lunch shift. Jake’s with Dad right now. We didn’t want him to smell you like this.” This time, there was only one Ash when she took his chin in her hand, peering up at him critically. “You good in there?”
“Better.” Pulling her in for a quick hug, Graham smirked at her noise of protest.
“You smell terrible, Graham.” Ash freed herself, then looked at him seriously. “Hey, we need to talk.”
“About how my stupid ass broke up with my dream girl last night over an emotionally disturbed moose?”
“Worse.”
The news really wasn’t good. Graham listened to what Easton and Ashtyn had heard through word of mouth, then he went straight to the source, Jackson Shaw. Graham could have called Lana herself, but he had…feelings…about all this, and he didn’t trust himself not to lose another friend and burn a second bridge in the heat of the moment. So he listened to Jax tell him all about the gala’s main excitement: the revealing of the multimillion-dollar luxury dream homes that were soon to be a permanent scar on his already disfigured mountain.
“Is there any way we can stop this?” Graham asked, his hangover building into a powerful headache between his temples.
“Mom and Dad already sold her the land. Nice of them to leave me as the one fielding all the calls today. Do you know how many times my ass has been chewed just this morning?”
“We’ll block it at the permit stage,” Graham decided. “Listen, I’ve got a line building up outside, and I need to find a shirt. I’ll call you later to discuss this some—”
“Why don’t you have a shirt?”
“Why do you care if I don’t have a shirt?”
“I’m not the one running a restaurant. That’s gross, man.”
Graham didn’t bother saying goodbye before hanging up. Easton and Ash left with a promise to bring Jake by soon. Easton refused to give Graham the shirt off his back, but Graham did find a sweatshirt stuffed in the back of his truck. It smelled like campfire smoke and bread, which wasn’t a terrible combination. Better than what was happening with the rest of him. Turning his phone off, Graham stuck it in his truck, the physical distance keeping him from calling Zoey and Lana, begging the first to forgive him for being an idiot and telling the second she had lost extra Growly Bear privileges.
The day was long, the dress shoes hurt as he wore them standing behind a grill, and all anyone coming through the doors could talk about was Lana’s condominiums. People wanting to know what they would cost, speculating on the types of floor plans, and buzzing over who would get one.
Graham didn’t bother letting himself get angry. The town council would never let this happen. He knew because he was there for every council meeting, and most of the discussion involved how to limit tourism’s effect on their daily lives, not increase it. This would be handled. If L was out some money, that was unfortunate, but she had plenty more. She would be fine.
A shower, a change of clothes for both him and Jake, and distracting himself with balancing the business’s books killed the time he had between lunch and dinner. As the evening wore on, Graham kept hoping Zoey would walk in and then immediately was grateful when she didn’t. He’d hurt her last night, and Graham needed to apologize. But the break had been made, and it was probably for the best. Reaching out to her would only make things worse.
Graham waited as long as he felt necessary before driving the customers out of his diner. Focused on straightening chairs and wiping down tables, Graham didn’t immediately notice the woman standing next to Barley the Biker Bear.
Raising his eyes to hers, the tension Graham had carried in his chest all day clenched down painfully tight.
“Hey there, Zoey Bear,” he said, voice softening. “I’ve been thinking about you all day.”
Which was brutally true. Even faced with the news about the condos, all Graham could focus on was the hurt in her eyes as he’d driven her away from him. When she gave him a small, worried look, his heart tried to turn itself inside out.
“I know you wanted me to leave. But I need to tell you something really important. I tried to call, but your phone went to voicemail.”
“Yeah, I kept it off today. I do that on days I’m hungover and pretty sure I majorly screwed up.”
“How are you feeling now?”
“Like I’m an idiot who’s sorry. Like my hangover’s gone and I really, really screwed up.” Graham stood close, inhaling the scent of her hair. “Zoey, last night—”
He drifted off, unable to formulate the words.
“Last night was a bad night for you,” she said, kindness and sympathy in her eyes. “And I’m worried I’m about to make tonight bad too. I need to tell you what they announced at the gala yesterday. Lana’s done something that’s going to upset you.”