“Which means I have ten sips to redeem myself.”
“I’m sorry about them. I don’t even think they realize how they act.”
“I’m used to the type.” Shrugging off the situation, he caught her gaze again, smiling sweetly. “You won me, fair and square. Or lost and got me, technically. Now that you’re stuck with me, what are you going to do with me?”
“I can’t believe I let Lana goad me into that. I’m a female Neanderthal. A Neanderthaless.”
“You’re also a better pool player than Lana.” Graham’s eyes crinkled. “You could be buying us all a round right now.”
“He was trying to embarrass you and bully me. Screw him and his money.”
Zoey didn’t realize her hands were still shaking until Graham gently took her fingers in his larger, rougher ones. Squeezing lightly, he sat backward on the barstool next to her, body facing the room but his eyes gazing down warmly at her.
Holding her hand in front of far too many curious eyes.
“Trust me. I’d put up with his type to get to spend time with you any day of the week.” Voice softening, Graham asked again. “So, since you have me, what are you planning on doing with me?”
Zoey would never know what she would have answered, dangerously distracted by Graham’s proximity and far too focused on the feel of his thumb tracing the smallest of patterns on her wrist.
“Well, tonight’s a bust. Are we bailing? Or are we throwing them out?” A slender woman approached, her features creased in annoyance. The stone-faced mountain of a man behind her was impossible to read, but he certainly wasn’t smiling.
“Ash, Easton, this is Zoey. Zoey, welcome to the Lockett twins. They’re trouble. Keep an eye on them. Guys, Zoey’s even more trouble. You’re going to love each other.”
“Twins?”
“I know. Spitting image, huh?”
Never in her life had Zoey ever seen two people who looked less alike. They were both tall and they had the same warm brown eyes, but everything else was completely different. Easton was the tallest man she’d ever been next to, with shoulders that wouldn’t fit through most doors. Ash was slender, maybe six foot if she went on her tiptoes. Ash’s short, spiky hair was bubblegum pink with turquoise tips, and she had more piercings in her ears than Zoey could safely count without staring too long. She was easily one of the most beautiful women Zoey had ever met.
Zoey supposed somewhere beneath all that beard, Easton had a face.
“Stay if you want. I’m out.” Ash shot a disgusted look at Zoey’s companions, then headed for the door. Easton stayed, dropping down to a stool several seats away, focused on the UFC fight on the television behind the bar.
Graham turned to Zoey, lips curved with amusement. “Ash doesn’t like tourists.”
“I’m beginning to see why.” When Zoey frowned at Enzo, he caught her glaring at him and gave a cheeky smirk. Turning her back on him, Zoey focused on Graham instead.
“I didn’t win you. But I’d like to buy you a drink in apology.”
“We spend a lot of time apologizing to each other. I don’t think you have anything to apologize for.” His kindness cut through her displeasure, bringing her focus right back to him. “How about we make a deal? No apologies unless someone really deserves it.”
They shook in agreement, and when he hooked her pinkie finger and made her pinkie swear on top of it, the rest of Zoey’s upset disappeared.
“You’re doing it wrong,” she insisted. “That’s not how you pinkie swear.”
“That’s not how you pinkie swear. Alaska is more adept at these things.”
Somehow it turned into a heated discussion while simultaneously becoming a pinkie war, which Zoey lost badly because Graham might play fair, but he sure wasn’t going to take it easy on her. Pinkie muscle for pinkie muscle, he had her solidly outmatched.
Zoey didn’t see Lana approach until she was right there, watching them in their finger death battle.
“We’re taking off,” Lana told Zoey before turning to Graham. “And I’m stealing Zoey this time. Sorry to ruin the fun, but she’s mine tonight. We’ve got some hot tub time to catch up on.”
“That’s just rubbing salt in the wound,” Graham decided. “All right, ladies, a guy knows when he’s second-best. See how they treat me?”
Rick and Easton just ignored him. Easton focused on the fight, and Rick was trying to cover how uncomfortable being around Lana made him. The poor guy had cleaned the same glass four times since Lana had stepped up to the bar. As Lana headed toward the door, Graham didn’t watch her go. Hmm. Zoey liked that. She waved her fingers in goodbye and started to leave, but Graham caught her hand halfway to the door, again asking her to wait.
“Hey, Zoey? Have you noticed L’s been off today? More distracted than normal?”
“Yeah, a little. I know this is a work trip for her, but I haven’t seen her as much as I thought I would. She seems stressed.”
Brow furrowed, Graham glanced at the door, to the woman waiting outside. “That’s what I thought too.”
Warmed by his concern, Zoey squeezed his hand. “It’s nice of you to worry.”
“I don’t like tourists, Zoey.” Leaning over, Graham spoke quietly in her ear. “But I love my friends. Keep me in the loop, okay? If something’s wrong, we’ll take care of it.”
And as he headed to the bar, back to Easton and Rick, back to a life and routine foreign to her, Zoey couldn’t help but smile.
She didn’t know this man, but somehow, she believed him completely.
Chapter 7
“Your mother made pot roast last night. The really good recipe from Easton’s grandmother. You know the one.”
As he pulled out of his drive, Graham put his cell phone on speaker and set it on the seat next to his hip. “Yeah, Dad, I know the one.” Half-asleep, he eyed the bucket of coffee balanced between his legs.
Graham’s family was a close one, and he made a point to call his parents as often as he could. He knew they missed him since moving to Anchorage for his mother’s work. But he hadn’t factored in enough time this morning to cover a detailed explanation of the week’s activities. They kept busy, the Barnetts. As the designated lazy one of the family, Graham highly suspected he was adopted.
“She’s also knitting you a scarf. Make sure you love the scarf.”
“I always love the scarves.” He did. They were good scarves.
“Did you tell him about the scarf?” His mother’s voice called in the background. “I made him a new scarf.”