"No problem," I muttered, already circling around to pop the hood. The engine looked like a mess of tangled wires and old parts. Typical for a car its age.
Beth hovered nearby, her hands twisting nervously together. "Do you think it’s serious?"
"Hard to say yet," I replied, reaching into my pocket for a flashlight. The beam cut through the dimness under the hood as I poked around.
"I’ve been meaning to get it checked out," she admitted, sounding almost guilty.
I glanced up at her briefly before focusing back on the engine. "Well, better late than never."
Beth shifted from foot to foot again. "So... how long have you been working on cars?"
"Long as I can remember," I said, tightening a loose connection and checking for other issues.
She nodded thoughtfully. "Must be nice to work with your hands every day."
"Has its perks," I agreed.
A silence settled between us then, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. I could hear her breathing softly beside me as I worked.
After a few minutes of tinkering, I stepped back and wiped my hands on my jeans. "Looks like your alternator’s shot."
Her face fell slightly. "Is that bad?"
"Not great," I admitted, meeting her eyes finally. "But fixable."
I glanced at Beth, noting the concern etched on her face. "We're gonna have to get it back to the shop," I said, tucking my flashlight back into my pocket. "I'll tow it."
Beth's shoulders relaxed slightly. "Okay, how do we do that?"
I pointed to my garage down the street. "Got a tow rope back there. I'll hook it up to my truck, and we'll get your car back in no time."
She nodded, a small smile appearing. "Thanks, Mr. Walker. I really appreciate it."
I shrugged, heading back toward the garage with her following close behind. "No big deal." I paused. "And my name's Daryl."
We walked back toward the garage in side by side.
“Do you like sweets?” she asked suddenly, her voice breaking the quiet.
I paused, glancing over my shoulder at her. “Depends,” I grunted.
“I’ve been working on this new cookie recipe,” she continued, her tone brightening. “It’s a cranberry and white chocolate chip cookie with a hint of orange zest. Perfect for the holidays.”
I glanced over, meeting her gaze. She looked genuinely excited about this cookie of hers. “Sounds… interesting.”
Her smile widened. “I’ll bring some by for you to try. You know, as a thank you for helping me out.”
I just nodded, not quite sure what to say. Sweets weren’t really my thing, but I wasn’t about to crush her enthusiasm.
Beth seemed to take my grunt as an agreement because she kept talking about the cookies.
We reached my garage, and I grabbed the tow rope from the cluttered workbench. Beth stood just inside the doorway, her eyes darting around the space like she was taking in every detail. She didn’t say anything, but her curiosity was clear.
"Come on," I said, heading toward the tow truck parked outside.
The old Ford had seen better days, but it got the job done. I tossed the rope into the bed and walked around to the passenger side. I pulled open the door for her; the hinges creaking in protest.
"Thanks," she murmured, climbing in and settling into the seat.
