“Haven’t you noticed, Zoey?” Graham moved closer, because she wasn’t the only one who could flirt. “I keep making exceptions for you.”

Zoey declined the drink but did take a soda, a small order of fries, and Jake, insisting on paying for everything except his border collie. Graham didn’t think of himself as a hoverer or invasively nosey, but he glanced at her wallet when she counted out the bills. Even someone not paying attention could tell her cash stash was shrinking. So he snuck an antlered reindeer dog onto her plate while she focused on Haleigh’s rousing and entirely believable rendition of Katy Perry’s “Last Friday Night.” And because it was Zoey, he drew little music notes falling out of the reindeer’s open, singing mouth in ketchup.

While Graham was busy finishing Zoey’s perfect, musically inclined dinner, Easton abandoned his own table, joining Graham at the counter. “So.”

“So what? Hey, can you give this to Zoey? And tell the rest of them to come get their crap? It’s ready.”

Easton gave him a look that spoke volumes. “You need to hire help.”

“Yeah, yeah, but if someone was relying on me for their paycheck, then I’d actually have to care about this place.”

“You mean it, don’t you?”

Choosing not to answer, Graham split his focus between laying out a fresh set of patties and the sexy little bit in the corner. Easton came back, looking just as annoyed as when he left.

“The one with the weird makeup made a pass at me.”

“Who, L?”

“No, the brunette.”

Six feet if she was an inch, the woman in question wasn’t the first supermodel to come into his diner. Graham didn’t recognize her, and he also didn’t like how she was seated next to Zoey but wasn’t acknowledging her presence. “Eh, don’t bother, buddy. Not worth the headache.”

“Looks who’s talking,” Easton said, making Graham frown.

Over with Zoey, Jake was having a blast. Zoey had found his dog a seat and a pair of noise-canceling headphones. Her hands in his coat and the leash draped over her knee seemed to be all the security blanket Jake needed.

“You jealous?”

Looking away from her table to the hulking beast of a man standing at the counter, Graham snorted.

“Of her? Naw, Jake still loves me.”

“I meant of him.”

Graham opened a bottle of beer and passed it over to his friend. “I plead the fifth. But if I don’t stop staring at her, people are going to talk.”

“People are already talking.”

Graham shook his head. “Great.”

“It’s your own fault. You’ve been following her around since she came to town like she’s got a leash on both of you.”

“Lovely imagery, buddy. My male pride thanks you.”

Easton shrugged. “Just calling it like I see it.”

“Zoey, Zoey, Zoey.”

The table of awfulness began chanting her name. Poor thing’s face was bright red, and she kept shaking her head with the kind of vehemence of someone who really, really didn’t want to sing in front of a group of strangers.

“You’re staring again,” Easton rumbled. Smug jerk had the audacity to look amused.

“She’s a customer. I have to pay attention to my customers.”

Even Graham wasn’t buying it. Easton took a long draw on his beer, then he said, “You’re screwed. Ash wanted me to tell you that.”

“Thanks, man. Duly noted.”

Leah and Collin had joined Ash and Easton’s table, along with half a dozen others who found karaoke night to be better than a movie for entertainment value. The thing was, too many of these people were so utterly convinced of their own masterfulness that they took it way, way too seriously. Every once in a while, one of his people would go up there too, a passive-aggressive mockery of those attempting to sing their hearts out.

“Lana, I don’t want to sing!”

“You’ll be fine.”

“Come on, Zoey. I bet you have a great voice.” Killian squeezed her hand in encouragement.

Graham’s own hand squeezed the ketchup bottle so hard the top popped off.

Easton grunted. “Is he a problem?”

Graham didn’t know. What he did know was marching over there and throwing Killian Montgomery the fifty-eighth through the window was not in his best interest. All the effort would gain him would be an embarrassed Zoey, perhaps another trip to the drunk tank with Jonah, and a potential lawsuit Graham would not win.

But it sure was tempting.

“Don’t let them bully you, Zoey Bear.” Graham popped a fry into his mouth, ignoring the curious eyes his comment drew. “They only want you up there so they don’t have to sing.”

Lana twisted in her seat, still sipping her Growly Bear. Usually, she chugged the things, but she was milking it tonight. “Killian wants her up there because he can’t sing. I want her up there because she can.”

“Lana, no,” Zoey insisted.

“Come on. Your signature song. Just one song, and I will leave you alone the rest of the night.”

“The rest of the night, Lana. You promise.”

“I swear.”

Grudgingly, Zoey rose and went to the cleared area, Jake’s leash in her hand. She fiddled with the microphone with her free hand, not looking anyone directly in the eye.

Up until this point, it had subconsciously occurred to Graham that Zoey was as close to perfect as he could have imagined. And there was a very big difference between perfect and perfectly real.

As she stood there with Jake at her feet and a shy blush on her cheeks, she was perfect. Then Zoey opened her mouth and showed Graham how real she could be.

It wasn’t that she had a bad voice. Zoey had a good voice. Not an award-winning voice but a second row in Sunday’s choir type of voice. Pleasant. Sweet. Comforting. None of which matched her…unfortunate…choice in songs.

Easton stopped drinking his beer, for once startled. “Is she singing—?”

“Yeah.”

“By—?”

Graham tilted his head, brain trying to understand what he was hearing and seeing. “Oh, yeah. East, is this really happening?”

“It’s happening,” Easton grunted, a note of confusion in his voice. “But I don’t think it should.”

“Is that interpretive dance?”

“It’s…something.” Her performance was the most glorious of train wrecks, and he couldn’t force his eyes anywhere else.

To his credit, Jake did his absolute best to support Zoey in her current decision, adding in the kind of arr-arr-ooo’s the original artists never thought to incorporate in their music. And when the pair of misfits were done, there was a full standing ovation, with screams and cheers and pounding of hands on tables.

“East, buddy? I think I might love her.”

Easton just took another pull from his beer.

There was nothing else he could do. Raising his fingers to his mouth, Graham let out the most piercing whistle he could. “Zo-ey. You show ’em, darlin’.”

The adorable, disturbed woman beamed at him, Jake a wriggling mass of happiness in her arms as they left the stage. Easton stared at Graham, incredulous.

“What? I’d like to get laid again at some point in my life,” Graham muttered out of the corner of his mouth.

The only good thing about karaoke night was the food requests slowed as the singing ramped up, and the bulk of his work was just keeping track of and serving drinks. It took a lot less time to pop open a beer bottle than it did to grill a burger, leaving Graham time to breathe every so often.

And to think of something to say to the woman headed his direction.

Happiness lit her features as she leaned against the counter at Easton’s elbow. “What did you think?”

“You’re a woman of many talents, Zoey.” That was safe enough, right? But Zoey was no fool, and she narrowed her eyes until Graham cleared his throat awkwardly.

Easton snorted but saved him. His man was predictable, and having consumed two beers and a burger, Easton rose to his feet, grabbed a chair, and dragged it to the makeshift stage.

Zoey slipped into Easton’s vacated stool, eyes widened. “Is he going to sing?”

“Looks like it.”

Forearms resting on the counter, Graham mentally acknowledged his arm was too close to hers. Zoey twisted in her seat, and their shoulders bumped together. A surreptitious glance in his direction, as if she were checking to see if he minded.

Oh, he definitely didn’t mind. What Graham minded was the inch still between them.

Since everyone was paying attention to Easton instead of them, Graham slipped his hand between her rib cage and elbow, brushing his thumb across the inside of her elbow in silent question. She leaned into his shoulder, turning her arm into his touch. Permission granted, Graham ran his thumb gently down her arm to her wrist, then entwined their fingers.

“That was smooth,” she murmured.

“I have my good days every once in a while.”

Easton’s voice had brought utter silence to the room, his deep, rumbling croon of “Blue on Black” almost as good as the original. Maybe better, in his own way.

Zoey leaned into Graham’s shoulder throughout the song, her hair brushing his bicep. “Oh, he’s really talented.”

“I knew it. You’re in love with Easton,” he grumbled as Easton finished the final chorus. “He gets all the women.”

A snicker escaped her mouth, not loud but loud enough to draw the attention of half the room. Stiffening at their curious eyes, Zoey started to pull away. Tightening his hand on hers to keep her right where she was, Graham frowned at the people staring. He didn’t give a crap what the sea of strangers thought, but he did care what his people thought. And if they were going to stare, he’d stare right back.

Lana always was good at breaking the tension. She lifted her Growly Bear up into the sky, saying cheerfully, “Graham, you dog, you.”