I pulled into my parents’ driveway and immediately noticed the line of cars cluttering the lawn. My stomach sank as I braced myself for whatever impromptu family gathering Dad was hosting this time. I grabbed my purse, locked the car, and made my way to the house.
The second I stepped inside, the smell of grilled meat hit me, accompanied by my dad’s unmistakable, booming laugh. I glanced out the living room window and saw him manning his beloved grill in the backyard, surrounded by people from his auto repair shop. He wore that same old grease-stained apron—familiar and comforting, yet somehow embarrassing at the same time.
“Amber!” Dad called when he spotted me, spatula in hand. “Grab a drink and join us! It’s just the guys from work.”
I sighed, kicking off my shoes. “Looks like the whole town’s here,” I muttered under my breath.
Before I could head outside, the doorbell rang. Dad tossed the spatula onto the table, wiped his hands on his apron, and announced, “That must be Steve.” Turning to me, he asked, “You haven’t met him yet, have you?”
I didn’t even have a chance to respond before Dad flung open the door and greeted the newcomer with a hearty clap on the back. “Steve! Right on time. Come on in. Oh, and meet my daughter, Amber.”
I turned and my breath caught. Steve was… striking. Tall, with a rugged edge and silver threads in his hair. Something about his warm smile and steady gaze made my heart flutter.
“Nice to meet you, Amber,” he said, extending his hand. His voice was smooth, and those kind eyes of his held me for a moment longer than I expected.
“Nice to meet you too,” I managed, feeling a slight tremor in my voice.
The rest of the afternoon, I tried to focus on chatting with Dad’s coworkers and friends, but my attention kept drifting back to Steve. He carried himself with a quiet, self-assured calm. Each time our eyes met, a strange, pleasant unease coursed through me. I’d sworn off any sort of romance after my last heartbreak, but something about Steve’s presence made me wonder if I was ready—really ready—to let someone in again.
As people started trickling out, I slipped away to my car. I got in and turned the key, only to hear a sputtering sound before the engine died. Groaning, I leaned my head against the steering wheel, deciding whether to call for Dad’s help.
A knock on my window made me jump. It was Steve, flashing a friendly grin.
“Car trouble?” he asked, lips curving with easy confidence.
“Looks like it,” I admitted. “I was just about to grab my dad.”
“No need,” he said, motioning for me to pop the hood. “Let me take a look.”
I watched him work with skilled, practiced hands. Within a few minutes, the engine purred back to life.
“There you go,” he said, wiping his hands on a rag from his back pocket.
“Thanks,” I said, feeling a bit embarrassed. “I guess I owe you one.”
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