Nope. Breaking my back would be preferable to listening to Rodney bitch at me all day for being lazy. He wouldn’t be serious about it because he knew I was the hardest-working mechanic he had, but that didn’t mean I felt like listening to his bullshit.
“Nice of you to join us,” Rodney bellowed right on cue. “You just missed your family’s best friend. The mayor was in. Needs an oil change. The way that miserable prick went on about it, you’d think his engine’s going to blow because it’s fifty miles past the date on the sticker. He said he’ll be back in an hour to pick it up.”
My day just kept getting better and better. An hour was more than enough time, but there was no doubt Thompson would find something to bitch about when he picked up his car. The tightwad was always looking for a way to get something for free. Sucked for us that we were the only shop in town, and he was too much of a candy-ass to drive up to Pineville to the quick-change place.
I got to work on the mayor’s car, focused on getting through the job without any distractions. Unfortunately, that was easier said than done. The oil draining from the car reminded me of the flecks in Ezra’s eyes. The annoying Christmas tunes on the radio overhead had me thinking about what type of music he listened to. There was no doubt in my mind he was the type who couldn’t help singing along with every overplayed carol.
He was my opposite. And with as much as I hated the holidays, I needed to keep my distance so I didn’t dull his shine.
Luckily, I could do oil changes in my sleep. More than once, I was pretty sure I had. Too bad for me, I wasn’t sleeping today. Before long, I started adding oil, only to hear it pouring out the bottom of the engine.
“Dammit, Carson, what in the hell’s gotten into you today?” Of course I made the rookie mistake at the exact moment Rodney walked past. I dove under the car, quickly replacing the plug. Luckily, the drain pan was still on the ground. Otherwise, I’d have spent the rest of the day cleaning up the slick. “First, you come waltzing in here twenty minutes late, and then you act like you’ve never even seen under the hood of a fucking car. What gives?”
“Just got shit on my mind,” I hedged, not wanting to tell him what an unholy mess my mind was. Rodney wasn’t the type to want to know how anyone’s day was going, much less listen to them bemoan an existential crisis that had them questioning everything they knew about themselves. “Slept for shit last night. I’ll get it together.”
“You’d fucking better. Otherwise, I’m giving the timing belt to Quentin.” That wasn’t as much of a threat as he made it seem. Sure, the money was good on it, but that job was going to be a pain in the ass. That said, I wasn’t stupid enough to voice my opinion. “And for fuck’s sake, once you get done here, grab another cup of coffee. Or one of those disgusting energy shots I know you keep in your box.”
“You got it.” I gave him a mock salute and went back to what I was doing.
The rest of the day was slightly better, but still a clusterfuck. Everything that could go wrong did, and it wasn’t even because my mind kept wandering to Ezra. If anything, thinking about stopping by the bakery after work kept me from blowing my stack a time or two.
It felt like time was running backward the closer I got to the end of the day. I debated running over to Shiloh’s while waiting for a part to be delivered but decided to fill that time organizing the bays to get back on Rodney’s good side. By three o’clock, when he bailed for an appointment, he was finally able to look at me without muttering under his breath.
An hour and a half later, I’d finished replacing the starter, placed two parts orders for the following day, and scrubbed my hands as clean as they were going to get. I shrugged out of my overalls and pulled on a clean Henley.
“Got a hot date tonight, Langsford?” Quentin teased. He was staying late tonight, and he’d pulled his project car, a 1967 Mustang Coupe, into the bay. The car was in rough condition, but if he managed to get it even halfway to mint, he stood to make a pretty penny on resale. We’d spent plenty of nights together, tossing back beers as I helped him overhaul the engine. That was about the closest I got to having friends.
“Nah, just headed over to the bakery,” I explained. Not wanting to give any signs that I was anxious to get out of there, I leaned against the workbench. “I think Anson’s trying to impress someone, and he roped all of us into helping him put on a big bash for the kids down at Harmony House.”
“Is this the same someone who got him to do that Thanksgiving thing last month? Your brother had better look out, or this girl’s gonna turn him into Harmony Grove’s party planner.” Oh, how wrong my friend was, but it wasn’t my place to correct him.
I’d have been pissed if someone started talking about Ezra and me before I was ready. Well, I imagined I would be if there was an us to talk about. Just like me, there were no indications until recently that Anson was into dudes, so maybe he was just trying to tap into his softer side in preparation for his hopeful seat in the mayor’s office.
“Eh, it’s good for him. Gives him something to do.”
Quentin scoffed. “You’re one to talk. I swear, it’s like the two of you make an art out of being hermits. It’s weird to think you’re related to Billy and Danny.”
“Yeah, well, those two also have partners who force them to do shit,” I pointed out. Quentin didn’t need to know what Danny and his husband, Blake, were always heading to Pineville for. They’d been talking about trying to buy a place here in town so they didn’t have to go so far for their…interests, but I wasn’t sure something like that would fly in Harmony Grove. The assholes around town already like to scream that it was bad enough “the gays were trying to take over” simply by existing. If someone opened a kink club of any sort in town, their little minds would explode.
“Fair enough, but what I said stands. You do realize hanging out with me after hours doesn’t count as having a social life, right?”
“Then what’s your excuse?” If he wanted to call me out, I’d turn those tables right back on him.
“Ain’t found anyone worth giving up time with this beauty.” He slapped the front quarter panel a couple of times. “But trust you me, if there was someone, I’d happily pack away my wrenches at quitting time for them.”
Them. Not her. Interesting.
But that was enough bonding time for one day. I swiped my jacked off the top of my toolbox. “Well, you have fun with your girl. I’m going to head out.”
The jingle of the bell hanging above the entrance greeted me as I pushed open the door to Shiloh’s Sweets. The scent of fresh-baked pastries filled the air, teasing my senses with a delicate dance of vanilla, cinnamon, and a hint of something fruitier. As I inhaled deeply, it was like the whole outside world melted away.
Surprisingly, the ambiance didn’t rub me the wrong way as it usually did during this season. Maybe it was the rustic charm of the place or the thought that Ezra had a hand in the decorations. Speaking of Ezra, my eyes scanned the bakery, searching for that familiar face, the one that had begun to occupy my thoughts more than I cared to admit.
I found him, but not in his usual spot crafting cookies. Instead, he was deep in the kitchen, engrossed in what looked like a new pastry experiment. The overhead light cast a golden halo around him, making him look like a serene figure in a painting. As if sensing my gaze, he looked up, and our eyes met. An unspoken acknowledgment passed between us, bringing with it a comforting familiarity.
Shaking off the moment, I made my way toward the recent addition to the bakery, trusting that he’d find me when he was done. This side, with its larger tables and plush seating areas, was evidently designed for longer stays and meetings. As expected, Christmas had taken over here as well. Garland draped the ceiling, twinkling lights adorned the walls, and rustic wooden Christmas trees stood proudly on every table, each hand-painted in festive colors. It was as if a winter wonderland had been crafted indoors, away from the actual snowy landscape outside.
“No cookies today?” I teased, nodding toward his new creations as he approached.
