"Tree lighting ceremony tomorrow in the town square. Usually draws a crowd." He shrugs. "Not really my scene, but people seem to enjoy it."
"Let me guess. You're not big on Christmas?"
He snorts. "What gave it away?"
"Just a hunch," I say dryly. "Is it the commercialism, the forced cheer, or just a general aversion to joy that bothers you most?"
For a second I worry I've gone too far, but then he laughs, a genuine sound that transforms his face. "All of the above, I guess. Though the music is what really drives me crazy. Same fifteen songs for six weeks straight."
"Valid complaint," I concede. "But surely there must be something about the season you enjoy? Food? Presents? Peace on earth and goodwill toward men?"
He considers this seriously. "The quiet on Christmas morning isn't bad. When everything's closed and the streets are empty. Peaceful."
There's something wistful in his tone that tugs at my heart. Before I can respond, Betty swings by with the check.
"Diesel, honey, Roman called the diner looking for you. Says his bike's making that noise again and he needs you to look at it this afternoon." She sets the check on the table. "This one's on me," she adds, giving me a warm smile. "Welcome to Crimson Hollow, Joe's granddaughter."
"Oh, that's not necessary," I protest.
"Course it is. Your grandpa fixed my carburetor more times than I can count. Never charged me a dime. Consider it paying itforward." She pats my hand and bustles away before I can argue further.
"People are so nice here," I say, slightly overwhelmed by the gesture.
"Small towns." Diesel shrugs. "Everyone knows everyone. Good and bad."
"More good than bad, I'm guessing, since you stayed."
Something flickers across his face. "Yeah. More good than bad."
We head back to the garage, walking side by side in comfortable silence. The afternoon air is crisp, carrying the scent of pine and woodsmoke. Crimson Hollow really is picturesque, like something from a Christmas card.
Back at Grizzle & Grind, Diesel gets a call that pulls him away to deal with some emergency at Roman's place. I spend a few more hours watching Marcus work on other vehicles, asking questions and learning more than I ever thought I'd want to know about automotive repair.
By five o'clock, I'm exhausted but buzzing with new knowledge. My hands are dirty, my clothes are stained, and I've never felt more satisfied after a day's work. Even if that work was mostly watching and handing tools to others.
"Heading out?" Marcus asks as I gather my things.
"Yeah, need a shower and food. Will Diesel be back today?"
Marcus shrugs. "Hard to say. Roman's bike problems usually take a while. Boss might be at it all night."
Disappointment flickers through me, which is ridiculous. I've spent most of the day with the man already. "Well, tell him I'll stop by tomorrow if he's free."
"Will do." Marcus gives me a knowing smile that I pretend not to notice.
Outside, the temperature has dropped, and I pull my coat tighter around me. The walk back to The Mountain Lodge isn't far, but the gathering darkness makes me quicken my pace.
"Sandra!" A voice calls from behind me. I turn to see Diesel jogging to catch up, his breath clouding in the cold air. "Hold up."
"Hey," I say, surprised. "Marcus said you'd be tied up with Roman's bike all night."
"False alarm. Easy fix." He falls into step beside me. "Heading back to the lodge?"
"Yeah, need to get cleaned up." I gesture to my grease-stained clothes. "I'm not used to working with my hands like this."
"You did good today," he says, surprising me. "Most people wouldn't have wanted to get dirty."
"I'm not most people."
