She smirked, wiping her hands on a towel. “I can be nice, even with someone like Kane.”
“And that’s why you’re on the nice list,” I said with a grin.
Ellie rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her smile. She started cutting the fudge into neat squares while I put the finishing touches on my mashed potatoes.
Once the potatoes were ready, I covered them with foil and took a step back, surveying our work. The kitchen looked like a holiday feast had exploded—platters of cookies, trays of fudge, and bowls of various side dishes were spread out across every available surface.
“I think that’s it,” I said, feeling a sense of accomplishment wash over me. “I’m going to get ready.”
“Meet you in a few?” Ellie asked, gathering the fudge for Kane.
“Absolutely,” I replied, wiping my hands on my apron.
Ellie made sure all the ovens were turned off and gave the kitchen one last look before she left with her tray of fudge. I watched her go, admiring her ability to find kindness even for someone as grumpy as Dr. Gabriel Kane.
With a deep breath, I headed to the small office at the back of the café where I could lock up the safe and go through my mail. Tonight needed something special—a cozy yet festive outfit that would set the right tone for the tree lighting ceremony.
As I organized the bills and the ads, I couldn’t help but think about Daryl and his reluctance to join us tonight. Ellie’s act of kindness towards Kane was proof that anything could happen. After all, if she could make peace with someone like Kane, surely there was hope for Daryl and me.
But those thoughts could wait; right now, it was time to get ready and make tonight as magical as possible.
Chapter18
Daryl
The clatter of tools echoed through the garage as I worked on the Impala. Grease stained my hands, a familiar, comforting sight. The day wore on, but my mind wasn't on the car in front of me. It was back at my place, with Beth and her bright smile.
Beth Morrison had a way of getting under my skin. I'd seen her bubbly types before—too many to count—but she was different. That damn determination of hers. She'd pushed past every wall I put up, even after I made it clear I wasn't interested in Christmas cheer or cookies.
I tightened a bolt under the hood, but my thoughts drifted again to a couple of days ago. Her car had stalled, and I'd offered to help despite my better judgment. While I worked, she sang softly—like she always did—and it struck a chord somewhere deep inside me.
When she spotted that old guitar, she'd asked about it. I brushed her off like usual, but there was something in her eyes, something that told me she saw through the tough exterior I put on.
The Impala's engine purred to life as I turned the key, but the satisfaction of a job well done couldn't erase Beth from my mind. Moving back to this small town was supposed to help, not complicate things.
Beth complicated everything.
I set my wrench down and wiped my hands on a rag, looking around the garage filled with tools and memories. She'd spent the night last night, asking me to take her home. We'd talked—or rather, she'd talked while I listened—and for a moment, it felt like something shifted between us.
And that wasn't even counting the kiss in the snow.
That kiss lingered in my thoughts more than I'd like to admit. It wasn't planned; nothing about Beth ever was. Her lips were soft and tasted faintly of peppermint from the cookies she'd brought. I'd pulled away too quickly, afraid of what it meant.
Until she kissed me again, and then it was easier to lose myself in her.
Shaking off the memory, I went back to tinkering with the Impala's wiring. The logical part of me knew better than to get involved with someone like Beth. But logic had no place when it came to matters of the heart—something I'd learned all too well after losing family.
Her persistence had cracked open something inside me, something I wasn't ready to face yet.
The sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the garage floor. I wiped the last bit of grease from my hands and tossed the rag aside. The Impala was running smoothly now, purring like a contented cat. I glanced at the clock—time to head home.
Locking up, I couldn't shake the thought of Beth's Christmas Eve party. She'd invited me, her eyes bright with hope. Attending meant something—an unspoken confirmation, a step towards... what? Something more than just fixing cars and staying hidden.
Driving through town, memories of earlier at the café floated back. The way folks looked at me, eyes filled with confusion and judgment. What was a guy like me doing with someone like her? They didn't get it. Hell, I barely got it myself.
Beth was sunshine and laughter; I was grease and grit. The attention made my skin crawl. I didn't want to drag her into my mess, to have people question her choices because of me.
But damn it, I wanted to go. To see her face light up when she saw me walk through that door. To feel like maybe, just maybe, I could belong somewhere other than this garage.
