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I snort and gesture for her to follow me deeper into the garage. “This is bay one,” I explain, motioning toward the black Camaro lifted off the ground. “And that’s Gio, the latest addition to the team.” He looks up from organizing tools near the back wall.
“Hi,” he says awkwardly, avoiding Peyton’s eyes.
“Hi, Gio.”
The kid looks mildly panicked. Poor guy. Peyton watches him fumble an entire handful of sockets onto the floor and bites back a laugh. “Did I just psychologically overwhelm your newest hire?” she whispers so only I can hear.
“He does that to himself without any help.”
I lead her farther through the garage, pointing out half-finished projects and the ancient vending machine everyone keeps threatening to replace.
“This place is bigger than I thought,” she admits.
“It’s also kind of a mess, but everything works.”
“No,” she says, glancing around. “It actually feels nice in here.”
By the time we make our way back toward the office area, Heather has her phone out. “Do you two want a picture with the baby?”
Peyton looks flustered. “You don’t have to—”
“Please, let me document this,” Heather interrupts. “It’s both of your first times in the shop.”
Before Peyton can protest again, I’m agreeing with Heather. “Absolutely.”
“Come here.” Peyton passes Tilly to me. She settles against my chest while Peyton moves closer so Heather can fit us into frame. We both look down when Tilly lets out a squeal between us.
Click. My receptionist lets out an aww somewhere behind the phone while Tilly grabs a fistful of my shirt. Click. Click.
“Okay,” Heather says after taking a few more photos. “That’s disgustingly cute.”
Dennis leans over to look at the picture. “Damn. You guys look weirdly official.”
“Nobody asked for your opinion,” I say and take a look myself. Tilly’s wedged between us, one hand curled into Peyton’s dress while I’m looking down at my niece like she personally invented happiness. Peyton’s smiling too, strands of hair falling loose around her pretty face. Behind us, the garage is blurred sunlight and toolboxes and old cars. The photo looks less like a random snapshot and more like a memory that belongs in a picture frame. I have to get a print of it.
Eventually Peyton gathers the empty drink tray and grabs the diaper bag from behind the front desk. “I should probably get her back upstairs before she needs to be changed.”
“Thanks again for lunch,” I say, feeling much more at peace after their surprise visit.
“You’re welcome.” Peyton glances back toward the guys. “Try not to let Ollie survive entirely on frozen waffles whenever I don’t bring him food.”
“No promises,” Dennis calls back.
Peyton shakes her head, smiling faintly before disappearing upstairs with Tilly curled against her chest.
The second the door closes behind her, Dennis turns toward me. “So, I was thinking—”
“No.”
“You don’t even know what I was gonna ask.”
“Yes, I do.”
Dennis grins unapologetically. “Can I ask Peyton out?”
A strange flutter catches in my chest, so sudden it throws me completely off balance. Not jealousy. Definitely not that. It’s more the realization that Peyton has only been here less than a week and already people are circling around her orbit. And Dennis, despite being harmless most of the time, has the subtlety of a fireworks display.
“No,” I say evenly.
