“It’s a little early for you to be bothering me, don’t you think?” She yawned, clearly tired from coming off a midnight shift at the resort.
“Early or late?” Graham joked. “Hey, FSS is on their way.”
There was a pregnant pause, followed by the kind of sigh only the truly exhausted could utter. Then a string of expletives that made Graham snicker into his coffee.
“And you warned everyone already?”
“The least I can do,” he replied modestly.
“Looks like I’m going back to work. The day manager has a doctor’s appointment and isn’t coming in until eleven. You suck, you know that, right?”
“Love you too, Hannah.”
A growl and the ending of their call was her reply. Chuckling, Graham took another sip of his coffee, just as a familiar patrol car pulled up next to him.
“Everything all right, Graham?”
“Yeah, it’s a Harold alert. Lucy’s boy called.”
A pained expression crossed the police officer’s features. “Dang. I was looking forward to breakfast too. Do you think Frankie’s will still be open for the next fifteen?”
“I doubt it. Better luck tomorrow, Jonah.”
Making a second person sigh that day, Jonah drove off, heading toward the One-Stop out near the highway. If Lucy had already been hit, at least she would stay open today. And with two small children, a pregnant wife with her own job, and as much overtime as he could handle, Graham doubted Jonah had more than some Slim Jims and a few energy shots in his squad car.
This would be a long, hungry day for Jonah unless someone had mercy on the poor schmuck and snuck him something from the resort.
Graham pulled onto the road, resisting the urge to drive faster than normal. When FSS came to town, it was every man, woman, and moose for themselves. Jonah was on his own.
The last FSS inspector had been a kind, no-nonsense Native Alaskan woman whom Graham adored. She’d spent too much of her very precious time helping him get his diner up to code before opening. He’d been there for her first baby’s christening, and he still exchanged Christmas cards with the family every year. But three years ago, she had been promoted, and the town’s beloved FSS officer was replaced by Harold.
And oh. Did they hate Harold.
Moose Springs wasn’t big on change, especially not the kind of change that took away the people they cared about. Still, no one would have been actively unfriendly if it weren’t for poor Rick down at the pool hall. On his first surprise visit into town—because Harold preferred his surprise visits to a friendly message saying he was coming by—Harold had taken Rick entirely by surprise. Rick only served frozen pizza and alcohol as snacks for his customers, but Harold had gone through the place with a fine-toothed comb and a point to prove.
By the time he was done, he’d had Rick’s now ex-wife in tears and the quiet, kind pool hall owner ready to take a swing at him. Harold moved on to Frankie at the bakery, then Graham himself that day before heading up to wreak his personal havoc on the resort.
Graham wasn’t fond of the power hungry, especially when they actively hurt his friends and community. So they’d started a “Harold watch” program. Undoubtedly, he’d get one of them. There was no helping it. Harold was as determined as he was mean.
But Moose Springs jumped for no man. Especially not one who liked making people sweat.
When he reached the Tourist Trap, Graham parked in the back out of habit. Whistling a little tune to himself, he wrote a paper sign saying they’d be closed for the day, taping it to the inside of the window. He’d learned his lesson about just leaving the doors closed on an unexpected day off. At least his lunch shift in lockup with Zoey had only been met with a few angry reviews and one strongly worded phone call.
Sometimes the tourists got a little unruly when denied their food. Graham had a cracked window and some dented dumpsters to prove it.
Even as he hung the sign, Jake’s ears perked up. A sleek black Lamborghini pulled in front of the diner. Two familiar people in the previous night’s clothes tumbled out of the sports car, leaning on each other as they staggered toward the front door.
“Great,” Graham murmured to his dog. “These two.”
“Are you open?” Enzo knocked loudly on the glass door, even though Graham was standing right there, face inches away. “Hellooooo.”
“It’s nine in the morning. What do you think?”
“Come on, man. My woman’s got the munchies.”
“And yet I still won’t be opening.”
Enzo flipped him off, which Graham chuckled at, shaking his head good-naturedly. But when he saw Enzo pull a small bottle out of his pocket and take a hard swig before climbing back in the sports car, Graham saw red.
Graham was out the door, hearing it hit against the side of the diner with a loud crack. “Hey!”
“Maybe they’re opening?” Haleigh paused halfway to the passenger door, glazed eyes sparking with hope. “I want a burger so bad.”
Striding to the driver’s side door, Graham smacked his arm on the top of the Lamborghini. “There are people here, jackass. This is a town with kids who play in their yards, and you’re driving drunk.”
“Bite me.”
Okay. Well, if that was how today was going to play…
Graham wasn’t the biggest of guys, but he’d earned his fair share of strength hauling downed logs out of the woods for his carving. He was more than capable of snagging this idiot by the collar and hauling him right back out of his car. Enzo took a sloppy swing at him and missed, stumbling. Graham didn’t bother returning the favor. In another time and place, Enzo might have put up a better fight, but his eyes were glazed with more than alcohol.
“Do you know who I am?” Enzo demanded.
Graham frowned at him. “I couldn’t care less. Get in the back seat.”
“What?”
“Either I call the cops on you and risk getting stuck here to be Harold-ed, or I drive you two idiots home.”
“There isn’t a back seat.”
“Noooooo seat…” Haleigh echoed before dissolving into mindless giggles all over again.
“That’s your problem to figure out.”
Every moment Enzo and Haleigh blinked stupidly at him, Harold got closer. So Graham just aimed them both at the passenger seat and gave a little nudge, letting the pieces fall as they may.
Which was how Graham ended up in a stupidly expensive sports car, his dog’s wagging butt on a Prada purse. A drunken Haleigh cooed and petted Jake, her own butt in the way every time Graham had to shift. Beneath dog, purse, and woman was a very squashed Enzo, half-passed out.
“Someone kill me,” Graham muttered to himself.
Haleigh poked her half-conscious boyfriend with a long fingernail. “Killian’s going to kill you if he finds out someone else drove.”
Enzo’s response was a garbled mumble.
“This is your idea of a vacation, huh?” Graham ignored the confused gateman at the resort entrance and just kept going. When he pulled up in front of the hotel, the result was too many bodies tumbling out into the waiting valet’s arms.
Jake wasn’t as familiar with their location as other places in town. Tucking his tail, he whined as all the new smells assaulted him.
“Jake, stay.” A firm barking order glued his pup’s paws to the pavement as Graham tossed the keys to a second valet and rounded the back of the car. He scooped Jake up under one arm, catching Haleigh around the waist to keep the weaving woman on her heels and not face-planted on pavement.
Since Enzo had been an ass last night to Zoey, Graham didn’t mind watching him trip and tumble to the concrete sidewalk.
“These belong to you,” he told the staff, shaking his head at the two drunks. “Don’t let them drive until you’re sure they’re sober.”
“Sir, we can’t—”
A snarl of frustration pulled from Graham’s throat as he handed Haleigh off to a valet. “They’re. Drunk. Handle it, or I’m going directly to the Shaws.”
“Sir. Remain calm. Please, stay calm.”
Closing his eyes, Graham counted to ten, then counted backward from ten, then thought about football for a while. Then he opened his eyes and looked at the kid standing in front of him. Good old Grass had come to the valets’ rescue, eyes reddened from the night shift and expression determined. Armed with a cell phone and some sort of martial arts stance, Grass edged between the valets and Graham, keeping one eye on the inebriated pair being helped into the hotel and one on Graham. The phone was probably already set to 911.
“I have a puppy.” Hoisting Jake higher up his side, Graham tried to look unthreatening. “Can’t ninja-kick a guy with a puppy.”
“Sir, that’s a full-grown dog, sir.”
“Kid, you have got to lighten up.”
“Sir, remain calm!”
“I am calm!”
Hmm. Yelling hadn’t helped because Grass had his hands up, ready to rumble. Groaning, Graham stepped back from the situation.
“Okay. I really need to stop coming to this place.”
Moving away from the hotel’s entrance, Graham pulled out his phone, deciding of all his friends, Easton would give him the least amount of crap for having to come pick him up. Before he could make the call, Jake began to whine, his “I recognize someone” whine. Or maybe it was an “I have to pee” whine. He stepped on the wide, manicured lawn and set Jake on the ground.
“Fine, buddy. Do what you gotta do, then we’re out of here.”
Jake was off across the grounds like a shot. Cursing at his own stupidity, Graham jogged after him.
Coming around the corner into another one of the resort’s lawn areas, Graham found himself nose-to-yoga pants with the second set of bottoms of the day. But since one was Zoey’s, he found this situation far less annoying than the first one.
“Suddenly, my day has gotten so much better,” Graham murmured, watching his dog fall in love with her all over again.