“You’re going to get hurt. Graham!”
It would be so easy to pull her into his arms, to keep kissing her, but her words registered deep in the part of his brain that knew better. A little singeing on the grill didn’t matter. But the ability she had to set literal fire to him finally gave Graham the strength to pull away.
The apron string was nice and browned, but so was the reindeer dog. The burgers were dangerously close to being dry, but he managed to save those in time.
“Don’t worry. The burgers are ours, but the dog is mine,” Graham assured her.
“I’ll share it with you,” Zoey offered. “You can have half of my burger. If these are an acquired taste, I don’t mind trying to acquire it. This place is the town’s claim to fame.”
Graham glanced down at the grill, feeling his eyebrows scrunch together. “I doubt it.”
“Have you ever checked your rating online? Or travel restaurant recommendations? You’re actually in Luffet and Mash’s book.”
“That guy is a disaster. Seriously, don’t listen to him. He’s got a screw loose.”
“You meet a lot of people, huh?”
Groaning, Graham shook his head as he plated their food. “You have no idea. Some of the crazies that come through these doors…”
Just like every other time, he slipped a pair of antlers on her reindeer dog, drawing a startled face with little soda drops dripping all over the dog.
She giggled when he offered it to her, which only cemented the fact he’d have to do the same to every food product he prepared for her.
Which, unfortunately, would only be a few more days of food products. Graham killed the heat on the grill, then joined her at the counter. She wrinkled her nose at the first bite of her reindeer dog but gamely powered through her half, the half with the soda-covered face.
“Maybe if they were less cute, it would feel less mean.”
Graham patted her knee, chuckling. “I’m sure there’s a lot of cows out there right now who are very offended by your statement.”
“Cows have it coming. They’re mean. And they’re contributing to global warming. Did you know the amount of methane produced by their flatulence has a direct impact on greenhouse gases?”
“Did you know that one supervolcano eruption will do far worse to the environment than some poor cows eating their greens?”
“Did you know that using theoretical geological events to counter current environmental issues is not only statistically inaccurate, it’s also lazy?”
“Are you calling me statistically inaccurate?” he asked, eyes once more on her mouth as she licked the salt from her fries off her lower lip.
“Do you like me calling you statistically inaccurate?”
“It’s turning me on, gorgeous. I won’t lie.”
“You are seriously the weirdest person who has ever lived.” Even as she said it, Zoey raised her eyes to his. “Graham? If a drink with you is still on the table, I wouldn’t say no.”
* * *
For a moment, his eyes darkened with the kind of desire she’d seen before he’d kissed her earlier. Then a lopsided smile crossed his lips as Graham leaned in.
“I’m happy to make you a drink, Zoey, but I probably need to pass. I’m not sure my liver would appreciate it after last night.”
As he spoke, his hand resting on her knee slid half an inch higher, squeezing her thigh lightly.
“And?” She raised an eyebrow.
“And I don’t think it’s a good idea,” he admitted in a rough voice, sounding unusually vulnerable. “I’ve had enough emotional whiplash over the last twenty-four hours to last me a lifetime. I’m not sure if mixing you and alcohol is going to help.”
“Hey, Graham?”
“Yeah?”
“I promise I’m not going to hurt you. Or…do anything else to you…tonight.”
She’d rarely seen Graham blush before, but as his cheeks rushed with color at the idea of “anything else,” Zoey leaned over and hugged him. “Why don’t you make me a drink, and we’ll leave it at that?”
Dropping a kiss to her temple, Graham rolled to his feet. “Whatever you want, Zo.”
The way he murmured it, Zoey could believe he meant every word.
The Growly Bear was much better on a full stomach, and the fact that he made her a much smaller one than her first helped even more. To his credit, Graham added several extra gummy bears to the concoction. She left them floating in the drink, soaking up the growly part so that she could munch on them later.
They moved outside beneath the front window, leaning against the concrete blocks that made up the diner’s wall. The asphalt parking lot ran all the way up to the building, with faded lines and a cracked concrete bumper, none of which should have been comfortable, but Zoey was more than content to sit with her legs folded beneath her, alternating sips of water with her drink. He was milking a third root beer, and neither one felt inclined to move. Graham had started out next to her, but when she reached over, running her fingers through his short hair, he sighed and flopped down to the ground with the kind of laid-back dramatics he had made his specialty. Apparently, her lap made the perfect pillow.
Every so often, Graham would ask her to count backward from twenty using prime numbers. She was pacing herself, because at some point, Zoey was going to need to drive herself home tonight. And as of right then, she was not going to be in any condition to drive anytime soon.
Even a baby Growly Bear packed a punch.
“Tell me something about you,” Zoey said. “Something normal.”
Graham raised an eyebrow even though his eyes remained closed. The empty root beer bottles were lined up next to them. To the outside eye, it looked like they had a solid party for two happening beneath stars softened by the midnight sun.
So far, he hadn’t choked on the root beer, even when swigging it on his back, which was impressive.
“I wear a size extra-large shirt. And Easton’s a jerk who won’t share his clothes.”
“That’s too normal. Give me medium normal. Everyone always wants to know deepest, darkest secrets about each other.”
“I have deep, dark secrets,” Graham promised.
“Do you?” Zoey ran her fingers lightly through his hair, because she enjoyed it and because he kept making soft little happy noises every time she did. “I get the feeling what’s on the outside is your deep, dark secret,” she teased. “Either that or you really are a chainsaw murderer, in which case I really don’t want to know. Give me something normal.”