“Graham doesn’t want whatever this is, Lana. He made that crystal clear.”
“That boy has no idea what he’s doing, but how he feels is not up for negotiation.” Setting the brush aside, Lana wrapped her arms around Zoey’s shoulders, pulling her close. “I know a lot of people, dearest, but I think you’re my only real friend.” By the softness in her voice, Zoey knew Lana had been scared too. “And as my only friend, it’s my job to tell you that he loves you. If you love him too, he deserves to know. Even if this is done, he still should know.”
Zoey nodded wordlessly, then leaned into Lana’s shoulder, listening to the rain outside. Trying to find the courage to do something even more reckless than four-wheeling in a storm.
* * *
Punching someone hurt like a son of a bitch.
It had been a long time since Graham had gotten into a real brawl. His temper had gotten him in more than one scuffle in high school, but it seemed like the only times he ended up in a full throw down was over a woman.
“Women are rough, Jake. You’re lucky you’re neutered.”
From his place at Graham’s feet, the border collie wagged his tail, acknowledging being acknowledged. Graham had been icing his busted knuckles on and off since he’d come home, and the swelling seemed to have reached the worst it was going to get. Two Tylenol had taken the edge off the soreness, but it would be a while before flexing his fingers didn’t make him wince.
“Guess I’ll have to close tomorrow. I deserve a day off, don’t you think? You and I could hang out and lick our wounds together?”
Jake’s ears perked, then he whined. His blind eyes followed the path of whatever vehicle was coming down the driveway.
“Whoever it is, they can keep on going,” Graham grunted sourly.
Gravel crunched as the car came to a stop outside.
This time, Jake’s whine was softer, happier, his tail wagging furiously as he wriggled and scooted toward the door. He only acted like that for one person.
They both only acted like that for one person.
When she knocked, Graham stayed at the table, staring down at the faded yellow tablecloth. Maybe it was time he changed it.
“Graham?” That voice, sweet but strong, was seared into his memory. He’d never forget her, not a single inch of her. “You don’t have to let me in. I just need to know you’re okay. You weren’t picking up your phone.”
No. No, he wasn’t. Because it was still sitting in his bathroom, bloodied from Killian’s face exploding all over them both.
“I just…” Zoey drifted off, then cleared her throat. “I just wanted to say thank you. Thank you for caring enough to look for me. I was really scared, and if it wasn’t for you, I’d still be out there, still scared. So…thank you.”
When Zoey fell quiet, Graham knew she would leave. If he just stayed in his seat, kept his heart and his eyes and his mouth shut, she would leave and this whole thing would be over. He could go back to life as normal.
That was the problem. Normal would never feel like normal again. Not after Zoey had walked into his life and wrapped her slender fingers around his heart. Right now, it felt like those fingers were squeezing for all they were worth.
But she was going to leave.
Right this instant, she was leaving.
Here, at his kitchen table, the rain thrumming on the metal roof, was where he lost her.
Jake whined again, more plaintively this time, but Graham was already on his feet. The border collie scooted out of the way as he opened the door.
“Haven’t you spent enough time in the rain today?” he asked quietly.
She looked tiny on the other side of the screen door, still pale and drawn, but the fear no longer lingered in her eyes. It was the fear that had flipped his rage from barely contained to unreasonable in the big house. Graham couldn’t stand it, the idea that she would ever be anything but safe.
Her palm was against the screen door. And when Zoey saw him, she sighed with the same longing that was tearing him apart and leaned her forehead against the screen.
“Thank you, Graham. For everything.”
Closing his eyes, Graham placed his hand to the screen opposite hers, resting his forehead to Zoey’s own.
And when her thumb pressed into his, the lightest of touches, Graham was done.
“I can’t do this anymore.” His words a desperate rasp of misery as all reason abandoned him.
“I know. I just—”
Jerking open the screen door, Graham took her face in his hands and kissed her. He kissed her because not kissing her was like trying to swim backward in a riptide. Whether he liked it or not, his heart had pulled him to her, and there was no going back now. She was leaving, and Graham couldn’t do a damn thing to stop that.
All he could do was make the most of what time they had left.
When Zoey pulled away, breathless and eyes wide, Graham allowed himself a moment to let this sink in. To enjoy the anticipation of having her in his arms. Running a thumb along her jaw in silent question, he waited for her. And when she nodded, reaching for him, wrapping her arms around his neck, Graham picked her up, walked a few steps, and set her on the counter.
He closed the door with his free hand, locking it this time because he was not getting interrupted. Wanting her was like breathing, an involuntary reaction necessary for survival. Touching her was coming home. Never had Graham known how lost he was, but he was lost without her.
Tonight proved it.
“You’re breaking my heart, Zoey Bear. You know that, right?” Those gorgeous eyes gleamed with instant tears. She started to pull back, but Graham shook his head, smiling against her lips. “You’re worth it. You’ve always been worth it.”
“Graham? I love you.”
Brokenhearted wasn’t anywhere close to what this felt like. With four soft words, she had destroyed him.
And as he drew her into his arms, into his bed and too deep into his life, Graham knew that no one else would be able to fix what loving her had done to him.
Chapter 17
The sun never really set up there, leaving a soft glow of gray light around the edges of the window shade. After two weeks of sleeping on a couch, it felt good to curl up on a real bed, a pillow beneath her head that wasn’t starched and perfectly pressed. This pillow was soft and lumpy and real. It smelled like shampoo and Graham, deodorant and bakery bread, and was warm like the space next to her in the now empty bed.
For a moment, it hurt like nothing had ever hurt before, waking up in his bed alone. But then Zoey opened her eyes and saw the small take-out bag on the nightstand next to her, with the label marked from that morning. Opening the bag revealed a cinnamon roll from Frankie’s.
He’d snuck out of bed and gotten her favorite breakfast. A whole different kind of warmth filled her, and Zoey rolled onto her back, wriggling deeper in the bedding.
“You get points for that one,” she decided.
He got points for more than breakfast. As she closed her eyes, memories of last night curled around her as pleasantly as Graham’s arms had as she slept. Being with Graham was a perfect combination of sweet kisses and soft teasing, tempering an otherwise unbridled passion that left her shivering in remembrance. He’d put it all on the table, letting her see how much he wanted her.
The sound of a chainsaw was muted enough she almost didn’t notice it, so lost in her memories. Curious, Zoey rose out of bed—nearly stepping on a snoozing Jake.
“Sorry,” she murmured, patting his head before peering out the window. The large door to Graham’s workshop was swung closed but still slightly ajar.
“What’s he up to, Jake? Or did he just wander off on you like normal?”
The border collie wagged his tail adorably in answer.
After dressing, Zoey found a sticky note on the bathroom mirror pointing at a
still packaged toothbrush sitting on the counter. Smiling to herself at his thoughtfulness, she finished getting ready, then headed outside.
Graham had moved outside his workshop, chainsaw in hands and welding mask over his face. There was a looseness to his stance, a relaxation to his shoulders that matched what Zoey felt. Circling the log, Graham seemed to consider it, tilting his head to the right for a moment. Then he lifted the chainsaw higher and started carving.
Watching him work fascinated Zoey. By the time he was done, little bits of wood and a thin coating of sawdust clung to his arms and chest. Graham set the chainsaw aside, pushing the welding mask up from his face. He eyed his work critically but for once seemed pleased with the result. As Graham ran a careful thumb along the newly carved lines in the log, Zoey couldn’t help but remember the night before.
That was how he touched her too.
“Hey there, Zoey Bear,” Graham murmured sweetly. “Did I wake you up?”
“Only in the good way.”
Meeting him at the log, Zoey went up on her toes and kissed his cheek. The corners of his eyes crinkled as she made a face, wiping her lips to remove sawdust from them.
“The fiber’s good for you,” he reminded her even as he peeled his shirt off and used the inside of the fabric to scrub his face and neck clean of debris.
The view around her was fabulous, but the view in front of her was good enough to leave her mouth watering.
Remembering those same broad shoulders and muscled arms from last night, she closed the distance between them. Tracing her palms over his stomach, Zoey felt his muscles contract beneath her touch. When she glanced up at him, Graham was watching her with heat in his eyes.
“Sorry, not sorry. The goods were on display.”
Snorting a laugh, Graham wrapped his hands around her hips and pulled her closer. “Voyeur.”
“Maybe.”
They snuck into the workshop, craving privacy even though they were alone. The steel shipping container that had once freaked her out was now the perfect place to wrap her arms around Graham’s waist. This time, there wasn’t sawdust when she kissed him, only the hint of coffee and the same minty toothpaste she’d used herself. Graham deepened the kiss, taking a step forward so that her hips bumped his work bench. Sitting on top of the bench worked a lot better. Zoey didn’t have to crane her head back to kiss him, and his muscled torso was far more accessible.
Graham kissed his way down the side of her neck, nipping lightly at the junction of her shoulder and making her tighten her knees into his hips.
“Here?” she murmured.
“Why not?”
“Because I’ll get splinters in my butt. And other places.”
He hoisted her off the bench, turning and settling down on a cheap folding chair with her on his lap. “There. Safe and sound.”
“Aren’t we too heavy for this?” she asked.
“Naw.” His mouth pressed slow, deliberate kisses along her pulse point, leaving her heart racing. Safe and sound wasn’t the descriptor Zoey would have used for how Graham made her feel. Burning alive from the inside out was far closer. And as she leaned in to kiss him again, she knew she never wanted this feeling to end.
* * *
Eventually, she abandoned his lap for his artwork. Or what he hoped was art.
Graham watched Zoey move about his workshop, slender fingers tracing the lines of his most recent failure like it was something precious. “This is beautiful.”
“It’s better, but it’s not…” Graham trailed off, swallowing the knee-jerk reaction to joke about what was wrong with the carving. “It’s better,” he finally said. “Zoey?”
“Hmm?”
“Did you ever watch Ghost?”
She snickered, moving deeper into the workshop. “If you’re suggesting we recreate the pottery wheel scene with a chainsaw and wood chips flying, you’re reaching high.”
“It’s not my fault you’re top shelf.”
Her cheeks flushed at the compliment, eyes dropping down to what was supposed to be a chair. It was more like a butt-sized bowl chopped out of a stump.
“I love this.”
Graham loved her, but he had absolutely no idea what to do about it. The only logical option was to follow her around the shop, a puppy on a string that she had no idea was tied to her pinkie finger. She rounded the table and ended up back at the butt stump. It didn’t fit Graham at all, but it was perfect for her. When Zoey wriggled in delight when the seat ended up holding her curves perfectly, Graham was done.
“Hey, Zo?”
“Hmm?”
“I like your glasses.”
“No one likes my glasses.”
“I do.” He gently took them off her face, leaving her blinking owlishly at him. Smiling, he replaced them on her nose. “That’s why I don’t want to scratch them.”
“Why would you scratch them?”
“Because I want to recreate Ghost.” Graham covered her glasses with his welding mask.
“You want to carve things with a chainsaw all sexy like with a half-blind woman in a welding mask?”
“Well, when you put it that way…yes. Absolutely.”
He led her outside where they clipped Jake to his tie-out on the porch so he wouldn’t be in reach of any flying wood chips. Then, in the exact same place where she’d once kicked him and run screaming because of his chainsaw, Zoey hefted her own chainsaw and gave him an excited grin.
Teaching Zoey to carve was fun, even though it was louder than pottery, and they didn’t have a killer theme song. Arms around her to guide the movements of the saw, Graham helped her carve her name into a chunk of cedar. Then, because he was an absolute idiot for her, he added Jake’s name too with a few three-dimensional hearts surrounding both.
“Don’t tell anyone I’m this lame,” Graham whispered against her neck when they’d turned off the saw.
“Oh, I’m telling everyone,” Zoey promised.
She squealed when he made a playful grab for her. This time, Graham didn’t suffer any physical pain or have the cops called for running after Zoey in his yard. Instead, he ended up with the woman of his dreams in his arms as Jake barked from the porch, whining because he wanted in on the fun.
“House?” he asked her, because she had that look in her eye, the one he couldn’t say no to.
“I have a better idea.” When she dragged him back into the workshop instead, Graham remembered all over again why she was perfect for him.
There were logistical issues with making love in a woodworker’s workshop. Still, Graham didn’t think he’d made too much of a mess of things. Afterward, Zoey curled up on a bench he had made, her head pillowed on his balled-up, sawdusty shirt as she took a nap, simultaneously the cutest and sexiest thing Graham had ever seen.
He didn’t blame her for being exhausted. Yesterday’s ordeal would have been enough for anyone to be worn down, but Graham had spent the night showing her how much she mattered to him. He’d taken his time, careful to make sure their passion wasn’t one-sided. Watching her fall apart in his arms had been one of the best experiences of his life.
Now the little tourist who had stolen his heart had also stolen his bench. And he didn’t mind one single bit. Unwilling to wake her up, Graham untied Jake and went about organizing his shop instead of continuing to carve. Jake had been napping at her feet, but at the sound of gravel crunching beneath tires, he lifted his head and gave a warning woof.
“I know, buddy. I’m not sure who thinks it’s a good idea to bother us right now.”
Us. Him and Zoey and Jake. Graham’s little island of happiness that he didn’t want invaded just then.
She could sleep through anything, even Easton’s hulking figure appearing in the doorway. “We need to talk.” He must have noticed her—how could he not—because Easton kept his voice low.
> “Then talk.” Graham continued wiping down a smaller half-finished piece of art, considering his next cuts.
“In private.”
Glancing at Zoey, Graham nodded and followed his friend outside. It took a lot to rattle Easton, but he looked shaken.
“Lana’s got too much sway. The council is going to agree to the project.”
Inhaling a deep, steadying breath, Graham counted to three. Then ten. Then thirty. “So that’s it?” he finally asked.
“That’s it.”
Exhaling explosively, Graham folded his arms over his chest. Two days ago, it was the worst news he could possibly have imagined. But compared to what he was about to lose, Graham struggled to find the emotions he normally would have felt on hearing his town was about to be ruined.
“Maybe it’s for the better.” Nudging a cedar chip with the side of his work boot, Graham looked at the trees rising around him. “Maybe L will do this right.”
Easton didn’t seem convinced, but there was nothing either of them could do at this point. Discussing it only left them both without any ideas, so they talked about Easton’s climbing season instead. He was considering taking one more group up Mount Veil, the beast of a mountain not far from Moose Springs, but it was risky. This late in the season, the cold weather could hit fast and hard up there. Eventually, Easton went home, leaving Graham to consider his little home and what would become of it.
He went back inside his workshop, because contemplating his future felt a little rough right now. It was easier, better to contemplate her. Zoey was awake, sitting up on his workbench when he returned. Graham went to her, gazing down, memorizing her in that moment.
“You leave tomorrow morning?”
She nodded, sadness in her eyes. That just wouldn’t do.
“We’ll worry about tomorrow when it happens.” Graham kissed her again, soft, slow kisses, then he pressed his face to her neck, stealing one more kiss as he murmured, “This is your last day in Moose Springs. How do you want to spend it before we say goodbye? What is the epic adventure of your dreams?”
The Tourist Attraction (Moose Springs, Alaska) Page 31