His words were few, but they carried weight. In that brief moment of shared understanding through music and machinery, I felt like we had made progress—no matter how small.
The silence returned as he continued fixing my car and I wandered around the garage, but it was no longer uncomfortable.
"I'm going to have to keep it for another day," Daryl said finally, closing the hood of my car with a decisive thud.
"What do I owe you?" I asked, reaching for my wallet.
"This one's on me," he replied, brushing off my attempt to pay.
We walked into the lobby of his garage, the warmth inside a welcome contrast to the biting cold outside. As we entered, my eyes caught sight of something I hadn't noticed before—a guitar propped up in the corner. My eyes widened in surprise. How had I missed that?
"Is that yours?" I asked, pointing to the instrument.
Daryl's expression tightened slightly. "Yeah," he muttered, clearly not wanting to discuss it further.
Before I could press him, he changed the subject. "Need a ride somewhere?"
I considered his offer for a moment. "Actually, yes. Could you take me to my café? And then... maybe pick me up tonight for the ceremony?"
He gave me a skeptical look, one eyebrow raised in doubt.
I gave him what I hoped was puppy eyes. It didn’t always work–sometimes I looked constipated, or so my father said through laughter–but maybe…
Daryl sighed, grunting in resignation. "Fine," he said. "But that doesn't mean I'll enjoy it."
"We'll see about that," I replied with a grin.
He groused under his breath but led me outside to his truck.
As we climbed in and drove towards my café, I couldn't help but feel a small sense of victory. Maybe getting Daryl Walker into the holiday spirit wouldn't be impossible after all.
Chapter6
Daryl
The rest of the day, I focused on fixing Beth's friend’s car. My hands moved over the engine, the familiar feel of tools grounding me. It was easier to concentrate on mechanical problems than to think about the strange pull I felt toward her. She was trouble, that much was clear. Too bright and cheerful for my taste. But damn if she didn't make me curious.
Her voice lingered in my mind, that soft singing catching me off guard. I couldn’t remember the last time something like that got to me. Probably never.
I glanced at the trashcan, at where I'd put the cookies she'd brought earlier. I ignored the guilt. Had to. I couldn't stand the thought of her cookies in Connor's mouth?—
Beth had asked about the old guitar. I hadn't played it in years, but her interest made me think about picking it up again. Stupid idea.
I shook my head and tightened a bolt.
The tree lighting ceremony.
It was a waste of time, just like Christmas itself. A bunch of people pretending everything was perfect for one night.
But then there was Beth. Her determination tofixme or whatever she thought she was doing. She didn't know a damn thing about my life or why I didn't celebrate holidays.
Still, there was something about her… Maybe it was her smile or the way she never seemed to give up, no matter how cold I acted. She had a spark that drew people in.
The clock on the wall ticked loudly as I finished up with her car. I wiped my hands on a rag and stared at the engine, all fixed and ready to go. Beth would be pleased.
Would she expect me to show up tonight? Probably. Would it matter if I didn't? Maybe not to anyone else, but it might to her.
I hated this feeling of indecision, like being caught between two gears grinding against each other.
