“That was amazing.” Unable to keep from beaming at him, Zoey accepted Graham’s offered hand, getting a foot safely on the ice. “Did you see—”
It wasn’t the rope’s fault that things went to hell in a handbag. It was all the ice’s fault. Or maybe it was the stake having wriggled just loose enough in the warming surface of the glacier. Or maybe, just maybe, the glacier was as fed up as the locals were at having their home territory crisscrossed by the curious feet of exuberant tourists, because when the rope went, it took the stake and Zoey right along with it. That would teach them to not pay attention to climate change.
With a squeak of surprise, Zoey slipped. She kept slipping, right off the edge of the shelf into the cave. Graham lunged for her, snagging her wrist as she went over. Dangling twenty feet above the floor of the cave, only Graham’s strength keeping her from falling.
“Hold on!” Graham bellowed, tightening his grip on her wrist. “Ashtyn, get a rope! Zoey, give me your other hand.”
She tried to stretch, but the movement only made them both slip more. “Graham—”
“No way.” A feral snarl escaped his throat. “I’m not letting you go.”
“Actually, I was going to say please don’t let me go. I will eat every reindeer dog in Alaska until Santa’s sleigh is permanently stuck on the ground if you don’t—”
A cry of fear escaped her lips as Graham’s purchase gave a few inches.
“Ash, move! She’s slipping.”
Not just Zoey. They both were slipping. As terrified as she was, it occurred to Zoey maybe it would be a good thing to make Graham let her go. If someone was going to get eaten by an ice cave, it was better for her than him. He had a much better chance of getting help.
At first, Zoey thought they were falling. It took her a moment to realize that they were both dangling, only now he had a two-armed grip around her waist from grabbing her. Graham’s face squashed painfully into her left breast as he cursed like a sailor.
“Did we die?”
“Not yet, gorgeous,” he grunted. “I’m going to hoist you up. Grab onto Ash and don’t let go. If you have any muscles, you use them.”
“I have muscles.”
“Prove it, Zo, because I’m not at my best position to be tossing tourists right now. One, two, three.”
Maybe he wasn’t in his best position, but when he hit three, Graham muscled her up past him. If he had been cursing like a sailor, up on the ice, Ash was as foulmouthed as the sailor’s disreputable uncle, ice ax clenched between her teeth as she rewrapped the rope that now held Graham’s leg secured around a new stake in the ground. Between the two of them, Zoey and Ash grabbed Graham’s legs and hauled him high enough he could get the top half of his torso out of the ice cave.
Graham dropped back on the ice, inhaling deeply to regain his wind. “Thanks for saving our bacon, Ash. That was exciting, wasn’t it?”
It took a moment for Zoey to realize that the pounding in her ears was actually her heart beating violently in her chest.
“I think our versions of exciting may be a little different,” Ash groaned, sitting on the ice near them, winded.
Zoey looked over and realized Graham’s face was two shades paler than it usually was, and his hand was tight around her own.
“That was brave,” she whispered, rolling over and wrapping her arm around his waist. “Thank you. Both of you.”
He hugged her tight, a much-needed comfort for both of them. Smoothing his hand over her hair, Graham looked into her eyes.
“You know how life-and-death situations bring things into sharper clarity? I just realized something very important.”
“What is it?”
Nose-to-nose, Graham panted, “I am so glad I’m not a wuss.”
* * *
“Did you ever see Dirty Dancing? You’re carrying a watermelon, Zoey.” With that, Graham dropped something bulky in her arms. It wasn’t a watermelon, but the sticks of firewood he gave her sure weren’t light.
Grunting under the weight, Zoey followed Graham down the sandy beach where a party full of strangers waited for them. “I feel like you use too many pop culture references.”
Graham hefted his own firewood bundle up higher, balancing it in one arm and taking a handful of her top pieces to add to his own.
“I have it.”
“Yes, but I don’t want you to fall the wrong way. Stick a foot in a mud flat, and I won’t be able to get you back out again before the tide comes in and you drown or freeze to death.”
“Ha ha.”
“No joke. Stick to the dry stuff, and you’ll be fine.”
Eyeing the frothy, crashing waves next to them, Zoey stepped closer to Graham’s side. “It’s a dangerous day to be us, huh?”
“Don’t worry,” he said, eyes sparkling in the soft July sunlight. “When a guy finds a woman he likes, he tends to not let her die of exposure in a mud flat.”
Not letting her die seemed to be Graham’s mission of the day.
His friends were having a late-night bonfire along the coastline, and Graham had invited Zoey to come along. They dropped off their armfuls of firewood, and Zoey helped pull pieces of driftwood over to the slowly growing fire for seating, careful to keep a safe distance from the mudflats Graham warned her about.
Zoey was grateful he was such a large, talkative personality. Even though she had come with him, there were certainly some curious looks and a few less than enthusiastic ones. But everyone loved Graham, and the more he pulled her around introducing her, the more Zoey started to enjoy herself.
She knew more people than expected, and it was clear Graham knew them all. Easton and Ash, Rick from the pool hall, and Frankie from the bakery were familiar faces in the group. Diego, the resort pamphlet pusher, sat silent at the edge of the fire, carving a piece of cedar and ignoring the rest of them. Leah gave her a nice hug in greeting, although Zoey would have preferred not to have Officer Jonah there, even if he was distracted with his kids and a newly pregnant wife. Despite the late hour, several families had brought their children to make s’mores. Flirting teenagers played a game of touch football just past the firewood, and one infant was sound asleep in his mother’s arms.
Watching Graham play with his godsons was so much fun, and it was clear as the three played a game of soccer that Thomas and James were far more skilled. After Graham’s pride had been crushed and no one could eat another bite of graham cracker, melting chocolate, or fire-toasted marshmallow, they all settled in around the bonfire. It was a teeny tiny little thing, not nearly large enough to fit this many people around comfortably. Zoey perched on her allotted section of driftwood, hoping there weren’t too many creepy-crawlies making their way toward her, Graham on the ground at her side.
Ash pulled out a guitar, skilled fingers strumming the chords quietly, drawing the attention of the entire group.
“I didn’t know she played,” Zoey leaned over and murmured to Graham.
“The Locketts are a talented family,” he agreed. “But don’t tell them. Their heads are big enough as it is.”
Ash snorted without missing a chord. “Shut up, Graham.”
Ignoring Ash, Graham stretched his legs out in front of him, relaxed and at peace.
The wind was crisp, blowing strands of her hair across her forehead and into her eyes. Zoey pushed them away, then glanced over and saw Graham watching her. Was he shivering?
“Are you cold?”
“Are you offering to keep me warm?” Graham asked hopefully.
Rolling her eyes, Zoey couldn’t help but laugh when he rubbed his arms with dramatic excess.
“Brrrr.” Leaning his shoulder against hers, Graham adopted an expression of shivery misery.
He was a lot taller than her, but seated on the ground as he was, it wasn’t hard to drape her arm across his shoulders.
“You just want to cop a feel.” Graham sighed. “Women are all the same.”
Which wasn’t true at all, because Ash was amazing. As her fingers strummed the strings, Zoey found herself entranced, drawn into the music that somehow fit perfectly with the low crash of the waves against the shoreline. The flickering firelight left the forest behind their circle in darkness. She might have been nervous if she had been alone, but these strangers were as relaxed and comfortable as Graham. The wilderness was their home.
A deep longing hit her hard, a desire to be here, not as a person who’d carried a watermelon but as an actual person who belonged.
Even though the fire grew in warmth, the wind still left her chilled enough that Zoey leaned into Graham’s shoulder, unconsciously seeking the heat of his body next to her. His hand rested loosely on the driftwood between them, and when she shivered just a little, Graham slipped his arm around her. He tugged her those few critical inches from the driftwood seat onto his leg.
“Is this okay?” he murmured.
When Zoey nodded, he curled his muscled arm around her waist and snugged her against his chest.
“That was almost smooth,” she said, smiling.
Graham returned her grin with a quick one of his own. “I do my best.”
His best wasn’t too bad. To his credit, Graham was very good at holding a woman. His strong torso was the perfect place to cuddle into, her head resting on his collarbone as he traced lazy patterns with his thumb on her knee.
Warm breath on her neck, just beneath her earlobe, made her shiver. “Do you want to take a walk?” His low masculine rumble left her knees weak.
Murmuring a yes, Zoey rose to her feet. Eyes followed their movements, causing her cheeks to heat at the raised eyebrows and speculative looks.
As soon as they slipped out of range of the firelight—and curious ears—Zoey gave Graham a rueful look. “They think we’re hooking up.”
“Hey, whoa there, killer. What kind of guy do you think I am?”
As he teased her, Graham wrapped his arm around her shoulders, keeping Zoey tucked to his side as they skirted the beach. He was much better at it than she was, and the warmth of his body cut the chill significantly.