Page 26 of Small Town Sizzle

“It was your mom’s car. It has character.”

The air shifts for a moment, and Alex pauses, his flashlight beam stilling. His expression softens, and he chuckles. “Yeah, and she used to say it had character, too. She was wrong, by the way.”

Maya huffs a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “You’re so full of it.”

Watching their exchange, I see a different side of Maya—a warmth and vulnerability that catches me off guard.

“Take a look at this,” I say.

Alex looks closer as I connect a loose hose.

I clear my throat, breaking the moment. “Okay, try starting it now.”

Maya slides into the driver’s seat and turns the key. The engine sputters, then roars to life.

“There we go,” I say, stepping back and brushing my hands together.

Alex leans against the car door, giving me a small nod. “Thanks for the help.”

“No problem,” I say, turning to Maya. “I can follow you guys home if you want, just in case it dies again.”

She straightens, shaking her head. “We’ll be fine. It’s running now.”

“Suit yourself,” I reply, though I can’t help but notice the genuine gratitude in her eyes.

“Thanks, Garrett,” she says softly, her voice carrying a sincerity that makes my chest tighten.

Jazlyn beams up at me. “You’re really good at fixing cars. Are you a mechanic?”

“Not exactly,” I say, chuckling. “Just picked up a few things here and there.”

“You should teach Alex,” she says brightly, earning an eye roll from him.

“Yeah, no thanks,” Alex mutters, ruffling her hair.

“Hey!” Jazlyn protests, swatting at his hand.

Their bickering makes me smile, and as they pile into the car, I step back, watching them drive off.

Climbing into my own car, I linger for a moment, staring at the empty parking lot. Helping Maya wasn’t exactly how I’d planned to end my night, but somehow, it doesn’t feel like a waste. And as much as I’d like to brush it off, I can’t shake the feeling that there’s something about her—something that pulls me in, even when I’m trying my hardest to stay away.

Chapter Eight

Maya

On Monday morning, the gravel crunches under my shoes as George trots happily beside me, sniffing everything in sight. The youth center comes into view, the late afternoon sunlight casting long shadows over the building. It’s quiet for now, but I know it won’t stay that way for long. There’s always something happening here—after-school programs, tutoring sessions, or just a safe space for kids to hang out.

“Okay, George,” I say, adjusting the tote bag strap slung over my shoulder. “Let’s make this quick. I need to drop off these supply lists and head back home before it gets too dark.”

He responds by wagging his tail and pulling me toward the door as if he understands anything I’ve said.

Inside, the hum of activity fills the air. The sounds of laughter and chatter from a group of kids in the main room greet us. George immediately perks up, tail wagging furiously.

“Hold on, buddy,” I murmur, trying to keep him from darting toward the chaos.

Leti’s voice rises above the noise. She’s standing by the whiteboard, her hands on her hips, mock-scolding a pair of kids who clearly just finished some sort of game.

“Maya!” she calls when she spots me. “What’s up? You bringing George in for some moral support?”