Sage's expression softens. "That's rare. Worth holding onto."
I nod, thinking about tonight's dinner invitation. About what it might lead to. About the fact that I'm falling for him faster and harder than I ever expected.
"Anyway," Sage continues, "just wanted to extend the invitation. Seven o'clock tomorrow in the town square. Hot chocolate, carol singing, the works."
"I'll be there," I promise. "Maybe I can convince a certain grumpy mechanic to join me."
Sage laughs. "I'd pay good money to see Diesel Torres singing Christmas carols. Take pictures if it happens."
We chat for a few more minutes before I continue my walk back to the lodge. My mind is full of Diesel—the heat of his kiss, the strength of his hands, the dinner invitation that feels like a significant step forward.
Back in my room, I spend more time than I'd care to admit going through my limited wardrobe, trying to decide what to wear tonight. I finally settle on a fitted burgundy sweater dress that hugs my curves and black tights. Casual enough for dinner at his place, but nice enough to show I made an effort.
After a long shower, I blow out my hair, letting it fall in loose curls around my shoulders. I apply minimal makeup—just mascara and a tinted lip balm—and check the time. Six forty-five. My stomach flutters with nerves, which is ridiculous. It's just dinner. With a man I've already spent most of the past week with.
A man I can't stop thinking about. A man whose touch sets my skin on fire. A man I'm falling for even though I know it's probably not the smartest idea.
A knock at my door startles me from my thoughts. It's too early for Diesel. Opening it, I find Ellie from the front desk holding a small package.
"This came for you earlier," she says, handing it over. "Special delivery."
"Thanks, Ellie." I examine the package—a small box wrapped in brown paper with my name written in a familiar strong, slanted handwriting. Diesel's.
Once alone, I tear open the paper to find a small wooden box, beautifully crafted with inlaid patterns along the edges. Inside, nestled on a bed of velvet, is a delicate silver keychain in the shape of a vintage car—a Mustang, specifically—with a small green stone set where the headlight would be.
A note accompanies it:
For your car when it's ready. The stone is jade. Supposed to bring luck and protection for travelers. Seemed appropriate. — D
My heart swells at the unexpected gift. It's thoughtful, personal—a perfect blend of practical and meaningful. The factthat he took the time to find something so specifically suited to me speaks volumes.
Another knock, firmer this time. Seven o'clock exactly. I tuck the note in my pocket, slip the keychain into my purse, and open the door.
Diesel stands there in dark jeans and a charcoal button-down that stretches across his broad shoulders. His hair is still damp from a shower, and he smells amazing—sandalwood and something distinctly him. My mouth goes dry at the sight.
"Hi," I breathe, suddenly shy.
His eyes move over me slowly, appreciation evident in his gaze. "You look beautiful."
"You clean up pretty well yourself." I step forward, closing the door behind me. "Thank you for the gift. It's perfect."
He looks almost embarrassed by my gratitude. "Saw it in Luna's shop window. Thought of you."
The simple admission touches me more than an elaborate declaration would have. I rise on tiptoes to press a soft kiss to his lips. "I love it."
He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, his touch lingering on my cheek. "Ready?"
"Absolutely."
His truck is parked outside, warmed up against the chill December evening. As we drive through town, Christmas lights twinkle in storefronts and homes, casting colorful reflections on the light dusting of snow.
"Sage invited me to the tree lighting ceremony tomorrow," I mention, watching his profile in the glow of the dashboard lights. "Sounds fun."
He snorts. "If you like crowds and off-key caroling."
"I take it you're not a fan?"
"Not particularly." He glances at me. "But if you want to go, I could make an exception."
