“Yes?” A familiar purr answered on the fourth ring. “I’m rather busy, love.”
“Lana, it’s Graham. Tell me you didn’t give Zoey drugs when she was drinking. Do I need to call an ambulance right now?”
“Oh, no. She’s a lightweight. She never drinks.”
Graham growled. “And you convinced her to start with a Growly Bear? Come on, L. I trusted you.”
“Hmm, I’m sure she’ll be fine. You always take such good care of us.”
“What did you give her?” Speaking slowly and making sure to enunciate through his gritted teeth, Graham tried to keep his temper. “Lana, this isn’t funny. She’s looped.”
“Zoey only took a couple baby aspirin for her headache. I’ll come back for her. In my defense, I thought she’d already gone back to the resort. She never stays out this late.”
And he was sure Lana looked her hardest too.
Graham cursed under his breath. “No thanks, I’ll handle it. You’re a terrible friend, you know that, right?”
Not bothering to listen to her answer, Graham hung up, focusing on the woman in front of him. He didn’t take a lot of things seriously, but Graham had a singular distaste for people bailing on each other.
“Your eyebrow is twitching. Up down up down.” Zoey tried to waggle her own eyebrows, glasses slipping.
“Yeah, well, Lana makes me twitchy.” Wrapping an arm around her waist, Graham helped her to her feet.
“Don’t be mad,” she slurred. “It’s not her fault. Money makes people crazy.”
Graham caught a hand in the jaw as she gestured exuberantly in demonstration. “Like, crazy. And she’s got so much. So. Much. Where’s my cab? Imma call another one.”
“Sorry, Zoey, I’m going to take you home. I’m not calling you a ride at this time of night, because the good drivers are already taken. Trust me, you don’t want the B-team of Moose Springs rideshare drivers.”
“What’s the mileage on your meter?” One drunken eyeball narrowed suspiciously. “Overcharging is wrong. Is wrong.” When she poked him in the chest with her finger, Graham’s grin widened. “I’m watching you, mister.”
This sloshy little bit was quickly in the running for his favorite customer ever. And since Lana had taken a dive off the ladder of Graham’s good opinion tonight, the position was currently open.
Juggling Zoey while closing would have been easier with an extra hand, but Graham was dexterous with his feet when needed, and she was determined to help. By the time they killed all the lights and locked the front door, Graham’s truck was the only vehicle left by the building. With some effort, Graham pried open the passenger side door, freshly bent from Ulysses’s wooing.
“In you go. Seat belts aren’t optional.”
“Nope. Nope nope nope. Stranger danger.”
“I’m not a stranger,” Graham promised. “We’ve already met.”
Again with the narrowed eyes. She was a suspicious one. Chuckling, Graham took her phone, snapped a picture of the two of them together, then messaged it to Lana. “See? Now there’s proof I was with you tonight. The cops will come looking for me first if you never arrive safely. Lana will tell them.”
“What if she doesn’t arrive safely either? S’not a good plan.” Even as she argued with him, Zoey crawled into the front seat with all the grace and dignity of a newborn baby goat. He clipped her seat belt and closed her door. Graham sighed as he went to the driver’s side and climbed in.
There was a burrito at home. He’d planned on eating it by now. But apparently, he was going to the big house instead. This was definitely a Tuesday.
“Where’s your mirror?”
“Ulysses got it in the divorce.”
Zoey tilted her head sideways in confusion and kept on tilting. She tilted all the way over to rest her head on the bench seat back between them, then beamed at him.
“I’m in Alaska.”
It had been a long time since he’d seen someone so filled with joy. Even if it was Growly Bear driven, Graham couldn’t help but enjoy her happiness.
“You’re in Alaska. And you’re going to love it here.”
If she loved it even a tenth as much as Graham did, she’d never want to leave.
The short night and the angle of the sun below the horizon left the winding mountain road toward Moose Springs Resort blanketed in a soft gray hue. Thick evergreens closed in as they passed a sign for the resort, darkening the blacktop enough Graham finally flipped on his lights.
If he hadn’t spent his entire life in Moose Springs, Graham might have waxed poetic about the idyllic setting, a small town nestled in the loving embrace of the towering Chugach Mountain Range. But to Graham, his home was a bowl of cereal. The best of everything was in the bottom of the bowl, with the mountains keeping everything else out. And the resort was a big, crusty piece of cheese that survived the dishwasher and was still stuck to the side of the bowl, currently ruining his breakfast.
The Tourist Trap was near the clustered housing most of the residents lived in, safely in the bowl. Just outside town, higher up in the foothills to give an incredible view of the mountains and access to the best skiing, sat Moose Springs Resort. A huge, sprawling cedar lodge blending high-class luxury and rustic log cabin mountain charm.
If Graham could have scraped the crusty thing off the side of his mountain and flicked it away, he would have in a heartbeat.
When the grass on either side of the road shifted from wild to perfectly mown, Graham slowed down. The entrance sign was impossible to miss, as was the guardhouse everyone had to pass to get inside. Graham knew the bored-looking gate guard, so he didn’t bother signing in. Instead, he raised two fingers in greeting as he rolled past, keeping one eye on the artfully patterned concrete driveway and one on the woman next to him as he drove through the resort grounds. At some point during the drive, she’d leaned the other way, her forehead pressed to the window. The moose goo on the outside of the window didn’t seem to bother Zoey as she stared at the approaching hotel, lights twinkling in the soft dimness of the mountain’s shadow.
“You still good over there?” he asked her.
“S’like Christmas.”
“Yeah. You should actually see it at Christmas. It’s ridiculous.”
“Hmm.” A soft sigh escaped her lips.
Graham never—never—went up to Moose Springs Resort if he could avoid it. The place was one big playground for the rich, and they all seemed to find him down at the diner, no matter how hard Graham tried to avoid them. But he’d been there enough over the years, Graham could have driven to the resort with his eyes closed. He parked his truck by the hotel’s valet station and motioned the valets away when they hurried over.
Graham was more than capable of opening his own doors and collecting the drunk woman staring blearily at his dashboard. When she swayed on her feet, Graham called it a loss and simply scooped her into his arms. She squeaked at the change of elevation, leaving Graham to wave awkwardly at the staff as he strode through the hand-carved entry doors the valets held open for him.
“Nothing to see here,” Graham declared cheerfully to the startled desk attendant as he went past. “Continue your lives as normal.”
Halfway to the elevator, it occurred to him that he didn’t know where he was going. And the bookworm draped romantically in his arms was a solid little thing. That or maybe he needed to start going to the gym more often. Either way, he was going to drop her. So he turned around and headed back to the desk and to the stranger manning check-in, a curly-haired youth named…Grass? Seriously? Who named their kid Grass?
Grass must have been seasonal, because Graham knew all the locals. And none of them would have borne that name on a name tag.
When they reached the counter, Graham set Zoey down on her feet, keeping one arm around her waist to steady her. Upon seeing Zoey’s confused expression, Graham tilted his head to catch her dazed eyes. “Hey, Zo, you still in there?”
“Violent delights have violent ends.” She dissolved into drunken giggles, poking at Graham’s white T-shirt. “A sail! A sail!”
Shakespeare. She was quoting Shakespeare while trashed. “Good to know.” Glancing at Grass, Graham jutted his chin toward the woman he currently held upright. “This is Zoey. I think she’s staying with Lana Montgomery. How do I find her room?”
“Umm, we’re not allowed to give out a guest’s room location, sir.” The clerk typed rapidly at the computer in front of him, but Grass quickly twisted the monitor away when Graham leaned over to sneak a peek.
“Yes, but she’s not really all that mobile right now.”
“We can take care of Miss…” Grass hesitated, as if unwilling to even share her name. While Graham appreciated the safety in their protocol, it was late, he was tired, and there was a microwavable burrito at home whimpering his name.
“Just call Jackson. Or the Shaws. They know me, and they’ll give you the go-ahead. Oh, give me a key to her room too.”
Grass looked at Graham in horror. “I can’t call the owners or their son this late. It’s two in the morning in New York. I’ll get fired.”
Why was it always him who had to put out the fires? Didn’t the world understand Graham was much better left to his own devices? Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he dialed a number. It rang three times before a tired voice answered.
“This better be worth it.”
“Women always are,” Graham joked. “Hey, man. I’m at the big house. Tell them to call your folks. I need an authorization to drop off someone in her room. One of my customers decided to mix headache medicine and liquor.”
“Just let the hotel staff do it.”
“I don’t know the staff.” At the offended look from Grass, Graham shrugged. “What? I don’t know you, and you’re named Grass. It’s weird, man. Jackson says to let me through.”