Shifting out of her path was instinctual, but Graham continued to hold the door for her and the breathless desk clerk at her back.
“Morning, Hannah. Grass. As always, a pleasure.”
Grass narrowed his eyes, edging through the door sideways so as not to offer his blind side to Graham. Huh.
“How’s Harold this morning?”
“He’s already made the sous-chef weep.” Hannah the—oh. She was the night manager of the hotel, or at least that was what her name tag said. Hannah turned to Zoey. “I hope you’re enjoying your stay, Ms. Caldwell.”
“I hope you’re enjoying your stay,” Graham mimicked in a squeaky voice, earning himself a swat of Hannah’s hand.
“Don’t start, mister. Graham, today has been a nightmare.” As she went through the door, the hotel manager put her hand on his arm and squeezed. “But it would have been a worse nightmare without the warning. Thank you.”
“I know it’s stressful up here, and they have you way overloaded.” He gave Hannah a softer version of his normal greeting. “Anytime you want out, let me know. I’m down for a rescue mission.”
“If I ever need rescuing, I’m more than capable of doing it myself.” Hannah bumped her shoulder to his playfully. “And I like running this place, even on the bad days. Now get out of my hotel. You always cause trouble when you’re here.”
Graham let the door close, following Zoey to the sidewalk.
“You’re friends with the manager?” she asked cautiously, aware she was prying.
“Hannah’s my ex. I’m the one that got away.”
“Does she think that?”
“I assume she does.” Graham glanced down at her. “Why, are you jealous, Zo?”
“Nope.” Definitely, probably nope. “I just think it’s nice you’re friends with your ex.”
“Hannah’s good people. Besides, I think I’m just acquaintances with my ex,” Graham told her, eyes sparkling in amusement. “I may have lost actual friend status the third time we broke up.”
“Was that recently?”
“About a year ago, give or take a few months.”
Zoey nodded, unsure of what to say.
“You know how some things seem like a good idea when you’re tired or lonely or you had a bad day? I’m Hannah’s too much whiskey, didn’t get the raise, current boyfriend and she broke up call. By the next morning, everyone involved remembers it’s a bad idea.”
“Do you pick up?”
Amused eyes gazed down at her. “Depends on how good an idea it seems at the time.”
His statement hung between them for a moment, leaving Zoey feeling awkward and oddly unhappy. Then Graham shrugged. “Hannah’s great, but we’ve never been in sync. Even when we were together, I wasn’t what she really wanted. Opposites attract, but some people have forward momentum, and some prefer their lives to be in a holding pattern.”
“Are those your words or hers?”
“My mom’s.” Graham flashed a sexy grin. “It’s her nice way of saying I’m lazy.”
“You’re not lazy,” Zoey teased just as the shuttle bus turned up the Moose Springs Resort’s drive. “You seem like a conservation of energy type of guy, not the truly unmotivated.”
“I knew from the moment we met, you get me, Zoey.”
A middle-aged man in a collared shirt half a size too small trudged out of the shuttle bus, mustering up a polite greeting. “Welcome to Moose Springs Adventurers, where all your adventures are moose-tastic. Caldwell and Montgomery?”
Zoey stuck her elbow in Graham’s side to quiet his snickers. “Caldwell and Barnett, actually. We called the office a minute ago and changed everything.”
“They didn’t call me.”
“I’m sorry. But yeah, my friend had to work and he—”
“Played hooky,” Graham provided cheerfully from behind her.
“Had to close his business for the day for—”
“Nefarious purposes.”
“Yes. Nefarious purposes. So we called and changed Lana Montgomery’s ticket to Graham Barnett.”
The driver frowned. “I can’t let him on the shuttle if he doesn’t have a ticket.”
At which point things went downhill. Not drastically, but a soft, gentle slope downhill, involving twitchy passengers aiming some serious side-eye in Zoey and Graham’s direction through the window. Both Zoey and the driver ended up on the phone with the reservation office at the same time, while Graham leaned a shoulder against the side of the shuttle, every so often rapping his knuckles against the fiberglass.
“Nice shuttle. What year would you say this is?”
“’Ninety-three.” Their driver grumpily turned back to the phone. “No, she said Barnett. B-A-R. N-E-T.”
“Double T. Two T’s.” Zoey waved her hands in front of the driver’s face, raising her voice to get his attention. “You have to tell her two T’s. That’s why you can’t find him.”
“What is this? Fiberglass? I bet this gets cold in the winter. Do you do a lot of tours in the winter?”
The driver gave him a pained look.
“Graham. Barnett.” The call kept cutting in and out, not helping the situation. “No, Barnett. Oh, for the love of…just give me your phone too. No, seriously. Give me your phone. Okay, I’m on speaker phone with both of you. You’re both in the same office. It’s Barnett with two T’s! Come on people, focus.”
“You probably need a good strong heater, huh?” Graham murmured. “But that’s a lot of people in there. Body heat’s good in the winter. Still, fiberglass…I wouldn’t have chosen—”
“Graham. Shut. Up.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Zoey didn’t buy his easy, aww shucks agreement for one second. But then the office finally figured out their tickets, and the even surlier bus driver stepped aside to let them on.
The bus was packed, with no spots together available, and thirty sets of eyes all glaring at her and Graham in varying forms of disgruntlement and impatience.
“Ooh, tough crowd,” he murmured from behind her. “Hey, has anyone here ever heard of the Tourist Trap? I know the owner. He’ll hook you up with a free meal if someone lets us sit together.”
“That was shameless,” she whispered back.