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[color=808080][color=3c6c6b][b]#3c6c6b[/b][/color] [color=2e2c2c]....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c].....[/color] [url=https://i.pinimg.com/1200x/01/99/7d/01997de7aaa5c14fd5e659a0d8c95324.jpg][color=808080][b]outfit[/b][/color][/url] [color=2e2c2c]...............[/color] [color=fcb9c1][b]#fcb9c1[/b][/color] [color=2e2c2c]....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c].....[/color] [url=https://imgur.com/bxaOSvN][color=808080][b]outfit[/b][/color][/url] [color=2e2c2c]...............[/color] [b]boone's garage[/b][/color]
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[indent][indent][indent][indent][justify][color=808080]Sutton stood at the edge of the Municipal Building’s parking lot with her back toward the slowly closing rear exit that groaned and creaked as the door took its sweet time closing. Her gaze kept drifting back toward the rose gold Fiat like it was some forgotten relic that’s only purpose had been decoration over the past couple weeks. She missed her car, missed the tiny sliver of freedom it gave her even within the confines of a small town like Pine Ridge. Perhaps she’d ask for her keys back tomorrow, once the festival went off without a hitch and the Mayor could see how all of her hard work had paid off. Maybe he’d say yes this time.

The loud thud and click of the door shutting and latching, startled her out of her wishful thinking and grounded her back in the misery that awaited her. Out of habit, her thumb pressed the button on the key fob. The black Mercedes Benz parked directly in front of her beeped and its lights flashed, reminding her, as if she had forgotten. Sutton slowly approached the driver’s side door and opened it with a soft sigh that puffed up her lips. She tossed her purse over to the passenger side before lowering herself into the driver’s seat. The sports car was so low to the ground that when she settled it felt as though she might as well have sat directly on the asphalt. 

The amount of time it took her to adjust the Mayor’s car before driving it was a chore in and of itself. The first thing she always did was take off her heels and set them aside on the passenger side floorboard. There was no way in hell she was going to drive a car that cost more than everything she owned with anything more than flats or sneakers on. She only had to go a couple blocks and that was plenty of time for those damn heels to get caught on the gas pedal and cause all sorts of trouble. Next she pressed the little button to the left of the seat and waited as the electronic gears slowly—[i]very slowly[/i]—scooted her forward until her toes brushed the pedals and her hands could reach the steering wheel. Then came the mirrors, which she double and triple checked before ever pressing the ignition button. 

Sutton sat in the idling car for far longer than was necessary, building up the determination to put it into gear. With one final sigh, for courage, or maybe just inevitability, she fastened her seatbelt and reluctantly shifted into drive. To say that she drove that vehicle like she was pushing eighty was an understatement. It rode low to the ground, so it could bottom out any pothole or steep curb, not to mention it was easily three times the size of her own car… which made it feel more like a land boat. She pulled out onto the back road slowly and it was only when she reached the stop sign that she remembered Main Street was closed, which turned her three turn two block excursion into more blocks and turns than she could count. 

By the time Sutton pulled into Boone’s Garage from the alleyway that ran behind it, her knuckles were white around the steering wheel. Her stress levels were far too high for such a simple drive, but all the closed streets, crowded sidewalks, and wandering tourists did nothing to ease her tensions. She eased into the drive, pulling up to one of the open garage doors with a grateful sigh, quickly putting the car into park and shutting it off before it could somehow betray her. After quickly slipping back on her heels, she emerged out of the driver’s side in the least ladylike way possible, grunting softly as she pulled herself to her feet, then stumbling a step or two like she had just hiked a mile in those shoes rather than simply climbed out of an exceedingly low car. 

The door shut with a muffled thud as she turned toward the garage. The doors were open and a dim overhead light was on, which led her to believe it was open. [i]Thank God.[/i] But as she slowly approached, heels clicking along rough concrete, Sutton didn’t see Warren, or anyone else, wandering about. She should have called, she knew it, but it was too late now as she lingered just outside, awkward and oblivious. There was a second where she contemplated going back for her phone which she left in the car, but instead decided to muster whatever courage she had to drift closer toward the open doors and poke her head in. She cleared her throat quietly, before calling out as gently as she could. [color=fcb9c1]"Hello? [i]Warren?[/i]"[/color]

Boone's Garage always smelled the same. Motor oil. Hot metal. Sawdust tracked in from boots. Grease worked so deeply into old concrete that no amount of scrubbing would ever remove it. The familiar scents settled heavily in the warm air while classic rock drifted from a battered bluetooth speaker perched on a cluttered workbench. Hotel California hummed through the garage beneath the occasional clink of tools and the distant rattle of traffic from the street beyond. Warren had the heat running despite the open bay doors, and the difference between the chilly autumn morning outside and the warmth inside the shop felt immediate.

The garage itself stretched deeper than most people expected. Tool chests lined one wall beneath pegboards crowded with wrenches, sockets, and decades of accumulated equipment. Tires were stacked neatly in one corner beside shelves packed with fluids, spare parts, and cardboard boxes labeled in thick black marker. A faded calendar hung near the office door three months behind schedule. Near the back of the shop, old Mr. Rivers sat slumped in a folding chair with a copy of The Hunger Games resting open on his chest, snoring softly enough to blend into the music. Warren hadn't had the heart to wake him, the old man worked hard enough when he was awake.

Warren had left from helping with the festival hours ago, not because anything needed fixing, he'd simply needed something productive to do with his hands before he strangled Jesse or told Heather something he'd regret later. Working always helped. It always had. When his father died, Warren had spent nearly a week locked away in this very garage rebuilding the engine of the old 1967 Chevrolet Impala currently hanging above him. He could still remember Charlie showing up with red-rimmed eyes and stubborn determination, practically dragging him back into the world one sarcastic comment at a time. She'd already lost her own father by then, and their dad had been hers too in all the ways that mattered. Sometimes grief sat easier when shared with people who understood it, so he’d let her think she’d successfully managed to drag him out of the shop.

The same thing happened after Heather. He'd worked until his shoulders ached and his vision blurred from exhaustion. He'd torn apart engines that weren't broken and fixed things that didn't need fixing because it gave his mind somewhere else to go. Cars made sense, parts wore out, bolts snapped, engines failed. There was always a reason, but people were far harder to understand. It had been Harlan who had dragged him away that time, running with Warren through the forests until he felt more like himself again. Which was precisely why he found himself beneath the Impala again, stretched out on a rolling creeper while fighting with the starter motor bolted to the rear of the engine block where it met the transmission. The damned thing engaged the flywheel every time the engine turned over. Without it, the car was little more than an expensive lawn ornament. Warren wanted to repair the original before buying a replacement because he hated using eBay with a passion usually reserved for personal enemies.

The bolt currently refusing to move wasn't helping his mood, he grunted beneath the car and gave the wrench another pull before the sound of heels clicking against concrete reached him through the music. Sutton's voice followed a moment later. Warren jumped, not expecting to hear anyone in the garage, smacking his forehead right into the metal bolt he’d been fighting with this whole time. [color=3c6c6b][i]"Fuck—[/i]damn it, in here."[/color] His voice carried easily through the garage. He planted his boots against the concrete and pushed himself backward on the creeper until he rolled free from beneath the Impala, rubbing his head with one hand and trying not to look too agitated.

Sutton winced at the loud clang that came from under the old car, her head tucking between her tensed shoulders while her face contorted into a pained grimace. [color=fcb9c1]"[i]Shit,[/i]"[/color] she cursed under her breath before pushing off the wall and hurrying over to the side of the car. Her hands lightly pressed against the hood, leaning over to look down at him as he rolled out. Blonde waves, wild and untamed from her rush that morning, framed her face as she surveyed him with concern-widened eyes.

Surprise flickered briefly across his face. Of all the people he expected to walk into the garage today, Sutton hadn't made the list. A genuine smile tugged at his mouth as he sat up and grabbed a rag from the workbench beside him, wiping grease from his hands and forearms. [color=3c6c6b]"Well, what's the prettiest girl in town doing in my shop?"[/color] he asked as he climbed to his feet. His gaze drifted toward the black Mercedes parked outside before returning to her. [color=3c6c6b]"Is that little Fiat giving you issues?"[/color] The smile widened slightly as he tossed the rag aside and hooked a thumb toward the Impala behind him. [color=3c6c6b]"You know they don't make those new cars to be as sturdy as the old ones."[/color]


It was no secret that the Boone brothers were the resident heartthrobs of Pine Ridge. Harlan and Warren were both monoliths of men, tall, dark, and handsome wrapped up with a perfect little bow of kindness that caught a lot of wandering eyes over the years. It had almost been a right of passage for most women around their age to develop a crush on one or both of them. For Sutton it was right after she got back home from college, around the time that she started working for the Mayor. The check engine light was on in her car and Warren was there to help her… because it was his job. But in their brief encounters he was kind, patient, and safe, compared to the constant state of fear and anxiety she existed in around the Mayor. It was something easy for her to fixate on as she adjusted to what was now her norm. She quickly moved past it, as most people did with crushes, but even as that died it didn’t stop Warren from still being distractingly attractive. The grease and overall ruggedness that came with being a mechanic didn’t help matters.

Sutton took a small step back, making room for him as he sat up. Given the considerably loud [i]thunk[/i] that came from beneath the car, she was surprised to be met with a smile rather than a glare and more curses… perhaps she had grown too accustomed to anger and punishment for her every mistake. She let out a quiet sigh of relief as some of the tension slipped from her shoulders and her own apologetic smile bloomed warm and bashful. Whatever kind of greeting she had been expecting, that… wasn’t it. Blonde curls bounced softly along her shoulders as she shook her head and rolled her eyes playfully. [color=fcb9c1]"You’re full of it,"[/color] she muttered under her breath with little to no conviction. She had heard rumors of how charming Warren was. She should have known better. Yet, a soft flush settled along her pale skin as small dimples dipped into her cheeks. 

Warren was entirely too pleased to see that flush creep across her cheeks. [color=3c6c6b]"That's what everyone says right before they realize I'm right,"[/color] he replied easily, though there wasn't much conviction behind the teasing. Sutton's dimples deepened as she smiled, and for a moment she seemed strangely out of place amidst the clutter of tools, oil stains, and half-disassembled engines. The garage was all grit and worn steel, and somehow she still managed to brighten it simply by standing there.

His gaze lingered for a second before drifting away, giving her the courtesy of not staring. Warren had always thought Sutton was beautiful. Sable would undoubtedly hold the title of most elegant woman in Pine Ridge if anyone asked him, and he would happily tell her so too, partly because it was true and partly because he had no interest whatsoever in discovering whether a witch could turn him into a frog. Sutton was different. She reminded him of sunlight breaking through heavy cloud cover, warm and impossible to ignore even when the rest of the world felt gray. It was a dangerous comparison to make, so he kept it to himself.

There were days when he wondered whether things might have gone differently if he hadn't become Alpha. The thought surfaced more often than he cared to admit and never stayed long enough to be useful. Responsibility had a way of swallowing entire futures before a person noticed what they were giving up. Warren had accepted that years ago, accepted the late nights, the constant vigilance, and the understanding that everyone else's problems reached his doorstep eventually. Dragging someone like Sutton into that mess felt selfish, especially when she deserved something steadier than the life he could offer.

That thought soured slightly as his eyes drifted toward the Mercedes parked outside. Sutton worked for Samuel Holt. Whether she knew the truth about Pine Ridge or not, she stood closer to it than most people ever would. The realization sat heavily in his chest for a moment before he pushed it aside and focused back on her instead.

She lifted her right hand, gently sweeping her wild hair back behind her ears as she turned slightly to follow his line of sight toward the Mercedes. [color=fcb9c1]"My car’s fine… [i]I think,[/i]"[/color] she responded with a sigh. [color=fcb9c1]"I don’t really know. I don’t get to drive it much these days,"[/color] she confessed. Sutton slowly turned back around to face him, her gaze following the gesture of his thumb toward the old muscle car that had been living in the garage for as long as she could remember. [color=fcb9c1]"I think we both know that’s too much car for me."[/color] She laughed softly at the thought of her behind the wheel of an old muscle car and the sheer panic she’d be in trying to juggle driving a vehicle the size of house along with shifting gears. 

Her quiet chuckle stopped abruptly, replaced with a gasp as she lifted her gaze to meet his, but instead caught sight of a small cut along his forehead and a drip of crimson that beaded at the end of it. Sutton quickly closed the distance between, shifting up onto her tip toes to try and get a better look. [color=fcb9c1]"Christ, you’re tall,"[/color] she muttered under her breath, unable to get a good view. She looked around the garage for some sort of solution, eventually catching a glimpse of a rolling stool with a cracked leather seat leaning up against a nearby toolbox. Delicate fingers curled around Warren’s forearm and gently tugged him in that direction. Of course if he didn’t want to move, there was no way in hell she’d be able to move him, but she hoped he’d humor her. 

Warren's brows pulled together slightly at her answer. He remembered the day she'd brought the Fiat in for the first time, remembered the way she'd hovered nearby while he worked on it, asking questions and watching everything with genuine interest. Most people treated cars like appliances. Sutton loved hers. The thought of her barely getting to drive it anymore sat wrong with him for reasons he couldn't quite articulate, and he made a mental note to ask about it later if the opportunity presented itself. Before he could, however, she was suddenly moving closer, and his train of thought derailed completely.

He blinked down at her as she tipped onto her toes, brown eyes narrowing in concentration while she searched his face for whatever had caught her attention. Up close, she smelled nice. Not perfume exactly, or at least not entirely. There was something soft about it that reminded him of Charlie's old cashmere sweater, worn thin from years of use and carrying traces of woodsmoke from too many campfires, mingled with the scent of wildflowers that bloomed in the mountain meadows every spring. Her fingers settled around his forearm a second later, cool and surprisingly gentle against skin still warm from working beneath the Impala, and amusement slowly replaced his confusion as he finally realized what she was looking at.

A laugh rumbled quietly in his chest, the cut hadn't even registered and it would be healed in less than an hour. He allowed himself to be tugged a step toward the rolling stool, though the effort accomplished more for her benefit than his. [color=3c6c6b]"Are you sure you aren't just tiny, Thumbelina?"[/color] he asked easily, the teasing slipping out before he could stop it. Warren was more than content to see that pretty blush rise up in her cheeks again.

A quiet scoff slipped out from behind rosy lips and reddened cheeks as she looked up at him incredulously. [color=fcb9c1]"I am five foot seven, [i]thank you very much,[/i]"[/color] Sutton corrected him pointedly. [color=fcb9c1]"That’s above average. And with these shoes—"[/color] She lifted her right foot, bending her knee to wiggle one of the [url=https://imgur.com/n8aAaZn]ivory heels[/url] in the air behind her. [color=fcb9c1]"—I get [i]at least[/i] two more inches,"[/color] she added, because apparently that fact was equally as important. [color=fcb9c1]"You’re just a giant."[/color]

Warren's grin only widened as she defended herself. His eyes followed the motion automatically when she lifted her foot, taking in the ivory heel dangling behind her before his gaze drifted briefly down her legs and back up again. The appreciation stayed firmly locked behind his smile, though it certainly didn't go unnoticed by him. [color=3c6c6b]"Mmhm,"[/color] he hummed, nodding as if he were giving her argument serious consideration. [color=3c6c6b]"Five foot seven and two extra inches of determination."[/color]

[color=fcb9c1]"[i]Exactly,[/i]"[/color] she mused with a pleased smirk as she hooked the arch of her shoe on the footrest of the stool and rolled it closer with surprising coordination. [color=fcb9c1]"Sit,"[/color] she commanded with all the authority of a feisty kitten while gently pushing against his arms. Once he was seated, the tips of her fingers lightly swept along his forehead, brushing the curls that had slipped free from his bun back out of his face. Her nose scrunched in a faint grimace as she studied the cut. [color=fcb9c1]"I think I might get chased out of town with torches and pitchforks,"[/color] she whispered, taking his chin in her hand and tilting it upward slightly so his face caught the light. [color=fcb9c1]"I marred one of the precious Boones,"[/color] she mused. 

The grin tugging at his mouth widened as he settled onto the stool without protest, long legs folding awkwardly beneath him while he rested his forearms across his knees. Sitting finally put them closer to eye level, though Warren suspected she'd still find something to complain about if it meant winning the argument. The warmth of the garage wrapped comfortably around them while Hotel California drifted lazily through the background and old Mr. Rivers continued snoring away in the corner without so much as turning a page. [color=3c6c6b]"There,"[/color] he said, tilting his head slightly toward her. [color=3c6c6b]"Now you can play doctor. What's the verdict?"[/color]

She rolled her eyes and pursed her lips while trying to temper the heat that threatened to settle across her cheeks permanently. Her hand that still held his chin tilted his head back a fraction more before sucking in a sharp, overly dramatic breath through clenched teeth. [color=fcb9c1]"[i]Unfortunately…[/i] I think you’ll live,"[/color] she teased with a gentle warmth that lacked any seriousness whatsoever. Because, in truth, if that single headbump was actually deadly, Sutton would have worried herself sick getting him to a doctor, then spent the rest of her life trying to atone for it. [color=fcb9c1]"You might have a small scar,"[/color] she admitted with a small guilty smile. [color=fcb9c1]"Although, I hear girls like that sort of thing… So, [i]you’re welcome?[/i]"[/color]

Warren's grin sharpened immediately, entirely too pleased with himself as he looked up at her. The hand resting on his chin kept him tilted back, but that didn't stop him from wiggling his eyebrows in exaggerated interest. [color=3c6c6b]"Is that your expert opinion?"[/color] he asked, amusement warming every word. His gaze lingered on her face for a beat before the corner of his mouth crooked higher. [color=3c6c6b]"Are you saying [i]you[/i] like scars?"[/color]


Sutton’s breath caught in her throat as her attention fell from the cut, snagging on Warren’s gaze and suggestive brows as he looked up at her. His eyes were dark and cast in shadow from his prominent brow, but still somehow warm in the way they squinted and creased when he smiled. She felt the heat bloom along her cheeks once again no matter how much she wished she didn’t. Her eyes betrayed her, flicking upwards and landing on the small scar that cut across his left eyebrow before quickly returning to his expectant gaze. [color=fcb9c1]"No comment,"[/color] she whispered while trying to fight the small curve that tugged at the corners of her mouth.

Then a loud snore tore through the garage, cutting through the tension, followed by the soft thud of his paperback book falling to the ground. Sutton started, pressing her hand against her chest with a gasp before devolving into soft laughter at her own jumpiness. After taking a second to calm herself, she took a step back and wagged a finger at Warren. [color=fcb9c1]"You, stay,"[/color] she instructed him, but before heading toward the car, she instead wandered deeper into the garage. She bobbed and weaved around hanging half torn apart engines, greasy toolboxes, and other dirty things she didn’t know the name for, making sure none of her exceptionally light colored clothing brushed up against any of it. 

Warren's grin widened immediately at the wagging finger. He lifted both grease-stained hands in mock surrender and settled more comfortably onto the stool as she disappeared deeper into the garage.. [color=3c6c6b]"Yes, ma'am,"[/color] he called after her, the amusement plain in his voice. Watching Sutton march off with such purpose tugged another smile from him, and he shook his head slightly as the click of her heels echoed throughout the shop. Truth be told, he found the whole thing far more attractive than he probably should have. There was something about a woman who wasn't afraid to tell him what to do that he appreciated more than was likely wise.

After a minute or so, she reached where Mr. Rivers sat slumped in his chair. Sutton crouched with a practiced poise while wearing a skirt and scooped up the book. Her index finger slipped between the pages, attempting to keep his place, although the likelihood of it being at the right spot after the tumble was minimal. She set the worn copy of the Hunger Games open, pages down on the table beside him when the old man snored to life. He looked over at her groggily through squinted eyes. [color=d6d6d6]"Mornin’, Sutton."[/color]

She chuckled and smiled down at him almost like she was caught redhanded. [color=fcb9c1]"Good morning, Mr. Rivers,"[/color] she replied warmly and barely above a whisper.

The old man snorted out a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a snore. [color=d6d6d6]"[i]Mr. Rivers?[/i] That’s my…"[/color] And then he was back asleep just as quickly as he had awoken. 

Warren watched the exchange with a quiet smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Most people ignored Mr. Rivers when he drifted in and out of naps throughout the day, treating him like another piece of furniture that had occupied the garage longer than anyone could remember. Sutton didn’t. 


The old mechanic's half-finished response dissolved back into a snore, and Warren shook his head softly. His gaze lingered on Sutton for a moment longer, taking in the warmth in her smile and the easy kindness that seemed to flow from her without effort. She gave pieces of herself away constantly like that, little acts of care so small most people never noticed them. Warren noticed, though. It was hard not to.

Sutton bit back a chuckle before navigating the maze of a garage, following the same path she took before. She slipped back out the bay doors and made her way over toward the Mercedes that waited patiently in the drive. She pulled open the driver’s side door and stretched across the cabin, reaching for her purse that sat in the passenger seat. The sharp click of her heels echoed beneath the muffled guitar solo that filled the garage as she hurried back over to him. As she approached, she unsnapped the small ivory clutch. Normally, a lady’s purse was filled with things like lip gloss, lotion, or other baubles, but Sutton’s was more like a tiny first aid kit. There was enough room for her phone to wedge in there somewhere and the rest of the space was filled with various medical supplies. 

[color=fcb9c1]"The Mayor wanted an oil change before the festival,"[/color] she finally answered his original question with a small shake of her head as she sifted through the various prepackaged supplies shoved inside. Sutton knew she looked paranoid with all that in her purse, but the crazier part was how quickly she went through it all trying to keep the various bite marks hidden so people didn’t ask questions. Most of the time she hid it, but this was one of the few times where it actually came in handy. A second or two later she found one of the antiseptic wipes with a quiet, triumphant hum. 

There was a moment where Sutton went to place her purse in Warren’s empty hands for him to hold while she played nurse, but then she saw the grease that still clung to the creases in his fingers and beneath his nails. She laughed softly and leaned around him to set it down on the hood of the Impala instead. After ripping open the little packet and pulling out the wipe, she set the trash beside her bag then slowly took a step forward, filling the small space between his knees. Her free hand tilted his head back once again, then brushed back his curls and held them out of the way. She paused for a second, then lightly pressed the wipe against the cut without a warning, gritting her teeth knowingly at the sting that followed. [color=fcb9c1]"Sorry,"[/color] she whispered, leaning forward quickly to blow on the cut and ease the discomfort.

Warren grimaced faintly at the mention of the Mayor. The expression was gone almost as quickly as it appeared, buried beneath years of practice and politeness, but the name alone was enough to sour his mood. If the universe ever decided to do him a favor, Samuel would find himself on the receiving end of a long list of grievances Warren had spent years carefully swallowing. Before that train of thought could go any further, however, Sutton stepped between his knees and effectively derailed it. One second he was thinking about oil changes and town politics, and the next he was acutely aware of how close she was standing.

He watched her lean around him to rescue her purse from his grease-stained hands and couldn't help the small smile that tugged at his mouth. Smart girl. The scent of wildflowers drifted through the warmth of the garage as she returned, accompanied by the faint rustle of medical supplies shifting inside her clutch. When her fingers tilted his chin upward and brushed his curls aside, Warren's attention narrowed entirely to her. There was nothing particularly romantic about antiseptic wipes and minor injuries, yet his imagination briefly wandered toward far more… pleasurable circumstances before he firmly shoved those thoughts back where they belonged.

The sting arrived exactly when expected, Sutton pressed the wipe against the cut and Warren felt the sharp bite of alcohol against broken skin. His face tightened for a fraction of a second before relaxing again as she immediately leaned forward to blow gently across the injury. The cool breath against his forehead felt oddly soothing after the burn. [color=3c6c6b]"I've had worse,"[/color] he said easily, the corner of his mouth lifting into a warm smirk. Years of scraped knuckles, broken bones, and violent wolf fights had a way of recalibrating a person's definition of pain.

His thoughts drifted briefly to his first shift, every werewolf remembered it. Bones breaking and reshaping themselves beneath skin, muscles tearing only to knit themselves back together wrong before correcting again, every nerve in the body screaming in protest while something ancient clawed its way to the surface. Compared to that, an alcohol wipe barely qualifies as an inconvenience. Warren looked up at Sutton and found himself smiling again despite the memory. [color=3c6c6b]"Though if you're trying to impress me with your bedside manner, I should probably warn you that I've survived Harlan’s first aid before."[/color] The teasing warmth returned to his voice as he rested his hands loosely on his thighs. [color=3c6c6b]"That's a pretty low bar to clear."[/color]

Sutton’s lips curved into a soft smile, accented by a quiet, breathy chuckle. [color=fcb9c1]"I’m no longer in the business of trying to impress people,"[/color] she confessed. Blonde hair slipped from behind her ear as she worked with a meticulous sort of patience, slender fingers gently holding him in place and guiding the bit of cloth along his forehead. [color=fcb9c1]"It took some time, but I eventually learned that people will like me, or they won’t, and it’s a waste of my time to try and convince them otherwise."[/color] Her shoulders lifted in a small shrug. After countless failed friendships and her job with the Mayor, Sutton didn’t know where she began and the people pleaser in her ended. Eventually, with enough other stuff on her plate she just sort of… stopped, choosing to live in whatever form that came in. People were free to come and go as they pleased, but her life hardly felt like her own anymore. It wasn’t like she was given the freedom to make or keep friends anyway. 

She drew in a slow breath, feeling the heaviness of… everything creeping in around the edges and threatening to dampen what might have been the lightest she felt in days. When was the last time she smiled or laughed without it feeling like a mask or some forced charade so people didn’t ask what was wrong? She couldn’t remember. Sutton shoved the thoughts away to the farthest recesses of her mind before they could take root. Her gaze found its way back to Warren, pretending as if the sadness didn’t attempt to break free. [color=fcb9c1]"Although I’ll take my gold star for being a better medic than Harlan,"[/color] she mused with a little grin and a prideful spark that she let shine brighter than the lingering darkness.

Warren's smile softened as he listened. The bluetooth speaker crackled quietly through an old guitar riff somewhere behind them, and Mr. Rivers let out a particularly impressive snore from his chair in the corner, yet Warren found himself paying attention only to her. There was something sad tucked beneath her words, something carefully folded away and carried so long it had become part of her. He knew that feeling. Maybe not in the same way, but close enough to recognize it when he saw it.

His gaze lingered on her face as she worked, careful fingers cleaning away the last traces of blood while she talked about people coming and going. Warren thought about how easy it would have been for someone to mistake her kindness for weakness, they would have been wrong. There was a stubborn sort of resilience in Sutton, buried beneath apologies and soft smiles and nervous habits. [color=3c6c6b]"For the record,"[/color] he said quietly, his voice dropping low enough that it felt almost private despite the open garage around them, [color=3c6c6b]"I've always liked you for who you are."[/color] 

Sutton’s hand slowed as her gaze drifted back down to meet his as he spoke. Warren’s words weren’t playful or teasing or laced with his signature flirting that slipped out every other sentence. The confession was offered with a gentle sort of sincerity that settled heavier than any compliment could. Warmth dusted her cheeks as something foreign churned in her stomach, but she didn’t look away, choosing to accept his words as they were offered, open and raw, without false flattery. [color=fcb9c1]"I’m glad,"[/color] she responded quietly, holding his gaze for a moment longer before her hand slowly started moving again.

The seriousness sat between them for only a moment before Warren's grin returned, warm and crooked around the edges. He had no interest in watching that shadow settle back over her eyes, not when she'd been smiling. [color=3c6c6b]"A gold star?"[/color] he echoed, brows lifting thoughtfully as though she had presented him with a particularly difficult problem. [color=3c6c6b]"Hmm. I think I can do better than that."[/color] His eyes drifted briefly toward her purse sitting on the Impala's hood, then toward the Mercedes parked outside, before settling back on her again.

He leaned forward slightly on the stool, forearms resting across his knees as a mischievous spark appeared in his eyes. [color=3c6c6b]"You successfully diagnosed a life-threatening case of bumping-my-head-on-an-engine-block, administered treatment, and managed not to kill the patient in the process."[/color] The corner of his mouth twitched upward. [color=3c6c6b]"That feels like it deserves at least a coffee. Maybe lunch if you're accepting additional compensation."[/color] His grin widened just enough to make it clear he knew exactly what he was doing. [color=3c6c6b]"Though I suppose that depends on if you [i]want[/i] to, I’m not in the business of forcing pretty girls to do anything they don’t want to."[/color]

Sutton had barely regained her rhythm when he shifted forward, filling some of the space between them as he looked up at her with something wild and reckless glinting behind his eyes. The whole predicament of it felt disarmingly intimate. Her hand still held his chin, his face lingered close enough that she felt the warmth of his breath through the mountain chill, and their eyes remained locked while he weaved his web through flirtations and charming smirks. Her flush hadn’t even had a chance to dissipate before it bloomed brighter and untamed across her pale skin. Her gaze drifted over toward the black Mercedes that waited to be addressed, then her head turned in the opposite direction, looking down Main Street toward the diner. 

When was the last time she had a [i]somewhat[/i] normal conversation like this? [i]Months?[/i] When was the last time someone like Warren Boone flirted with her and asked her out to lunch? Well… never, because stuff like that never happened to her. It wasn’t a question of [i]if[/i] Sutton wanted to go, but if she should. The Mayor said to eat [i]while[/i] the oil was being changed, and he wanted Warren himself to do it. She had no clue how the contrary could get back to him. But people in town talked, and if they were seen eating at the diner, how long before the Mayor found out? She could go on for hours listing every reason under the sun why she shouldn’t, but his smile and the way he kept looking up at her made everything else feel like a problem for another time. 

[color=fcb9c1]"I see what you’re doing,"[/color] she spoke softly as her gaze found its way back to him. It wasn’t a no, and even if it was, the smile that curled bashful and unbidden told another story. Sutton tried her best to temper her grin before it gave her away entirely and quickly continued tending to his cut if only to give herself something else to focus on besides his piercing gaze. [color=fcb9c1]"I was told to have [i]you[/i] tend to the Mayor’s car,"[/color] she added, as if listing out every reason not to would somehow convince Warren otherwise and not entice him further. [color=fcb9c1]"I planned on getting lunch while you worked on it."[/color] Her face scrunched, brows creasing as she tilted her head to the side and a small snort slipped out. Ok, that definitely wasn’t helping her argument. 

Warren watched the argument unravel almost in real time. He could practically see Sutton assembling reasons she shouldn't say yes only for each one to collapse under its own weight a few seconds later. The sight tugged another grin from him, warmer now, less teasing and more genuinely fond. Her brows furrowed, her nose scrunched, and she waved the cloth between them like she was presenting evidence in a courtroom. It was adorable, and unfortunately for her, Warren had absolutely no intention of helping her win the case.

[color=3c6c6b]"I couldn't care less what Samuel wants,"[/color] he admitted easily, the words leaving him with the casual confidence of a man who had long ago made peace with being on the Mayor's bad side. His gaze never left hers as she stood between his knees, close enough that he could see every little shift of expression cross her face. [color=3c6c6b]"What do [i]you[/i] want?"[/color] he asked instead. One shoulder lifted in a lazy shrug. [color=3c6c6b]"I can call in an order and we can eat here if you'd rather. Mr. Rivers has been around a lot longer than me. He can handle an oil change without supervision."[/color] As if summoned by the mention of his name, the old mechanic released another snore from across the garage and shifted slightly in his chair without waking.

Sutton was unable to stop the small, guilty laugh that escaped. She wished that she could approach anything that involved the Mayor with such open disdain. There was a fleeting second where she just imagined how cathartic it would be telling him no, or for once not having to bend to his every whim. But sometimes even her thoughts weren't entirely her own. She could feel the tingle of his compulsion like creeping vines, looming around the edges of her mind. Warren was lucky in his ignorance, even if he'd never know it. 

She didn't quite know if it was frustrating or endearing how determined he was to shut down every excuse before it found stable ground to stand on. Sutton knew about his reputation, but it was never directed at her. They shared brief conversations when she visited the garage or they passed on the streets, but nothing like this. Her attention drifted around the garage, to Mr. Rivers snoring, before landing back on Warren’s expectant gaze. [color=fcb9c1]"I think we both know I couldn't sit on anything in here without ruining my clothes,"[/color] she mused with a faint smile, knowing full well that her arguments were getting weaker the more she tried.

Warren laughed, the sound low and warm as he shook his head at yet another crumbling excuse. His forearms rested loosely across his knees while he looked up at her, entirely too amused by the direction this conversation had taken. [color=3c6c6b]"I'm sure I could figure something out,"[/color] he said easily, one shoulder lifting in a lazy shrug. [color=3c6c6b]"I'm a resourceful guy."[/color]

His gaze drifted around the garage as though genuinely considering the logistics of accommodating her. The old couch in the office flashed through his mind, followed by the break room table, then the battered recliner Mr. Rivers occasionally claimed for his afternoon naps. A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. [color=3c6c6b]"Worst case scenario, I'll just give you my chair and make Mr. Rivers share his."[/color] The old mechanic snored loudly from across the garage as if objecting to the idea in his sleep. [color=3c6c6b]"See? He's already negotiating."[/color]

A quiet laugh broke free from her small reluctant smile as Sutton watched him dodge and adjust course for every argument she made. Ok, so maybe his determination was endearing and more attractive than she had given him credit for. In her experience, the few men that ever looked her way would have given up already, but not Warren. He only seemed more amused, smile widening, and laughing every time she spoke. Her head ducked forward, face hidden behind blonde waves as a soft snort followed by a giggle echoed between them when he used Mr. Rivers’s snoring to somehow strengthen his counter argument. 


As for what Sutton wanted? That was a more difficult question. Warren was attractive, probably the most attractive guy in town if she were comparing… which she's totally never done. He was nice and kind, and she was very aware of the little somersault her stomach did whenever he smiled at her, not his incredibly obvious flirty smiles, but the soft smiles, like when he was listening intently or didn't think anyone was looking. Sutton found it easy to talk to him, like the world was a little less heavy for a short while. She had no reason to think lunch with him wouldn't be enjoyable. But it was also more than that, more than Warren. She was lonely, unbearably so. And not in the ‘she needed a man’ sort of way, but just in a human way. Everyday she woke up and went to work for a man that terrified her, a man that over worked her, fed from her, and compelled her so much that sometimes she wondered if she was losing her mind. She wasn't allowed to see her family, or drive her own car without permission, and only was given the [i]gift[/i] of keeping her friendship with Lucy so that she didn't kill herself from isolation. This conversation with Warren was the most she had talked to someone beyond the Mayor in weeks, maybe even months. And that knowledge was devastating. 

Her gaze fell to the wipe clutched between her fingers, turning it over as she searched for the words. [color=fcb9c1]"I want to,"[/color] she replied quietly, the confession feeling strange and foreign as it fell from her lips. It was almost like she had forgotten she could be a little selfish and want things for herself, and she didn't know what to do with that.

Sutton had been so focused on the thought of lunch and her arguments against it that what Warren had said around it nearly went unnoticed. She blinked once and her brows creased as she held up a single finger while her mind caught up. [color=fcb9c1]"Wait…"[/color] Sutton laughed, stalling yet again as she looked down at him with a sharp incredulousness. [color=fcb9c1]"Why am I the one being compensated when I’m the reason you got hurt in the first place? I should be buying [i]your[/i] lunch."[/color] As she spoke, her hand that held the cloth waved back and forth between them with her own gentle breed of stubborn feistiness. 

The laugh and confession that escaped Sutton pulled a grin from Warren in return. He rolled his eyes playfully when she started arguing over who should be buying lunch, and the motion tugged slightly at the cut she'd been tending. [color=3c6c6b]"Now hold on,"[/color] he said, lifting a hand as though he needed to stop this line of thinking before it spread any further. [color=3c6c6b]"If you honestly think I'm the type of man to let you pay for my lunch on the first date, you've lost your mind."[/color] The word slipped out naturally, date, spoken with the same ease he'd used to discuss oil changes and engine parts, though the smile pulling at his mouth made it clear he'd chosen it intentionally.

His eyes flicked briefly toward the cloth in her hand before returning to her face. The garage felt smaller than it had a few minutes ago, filled with the scent of motor oil, old leather, and whatever soft floral fragrance lingered around Sutton. [color=3c6c6b]"Besides,"[/color] he continued, amusement dancing behind his eyes, [color=3c6c6b]"You already patched me up. If anything, that puts us even."[/color] His grin widened slightly. [color=3c6c6b]"Though if it makes you feel better, you can buy lunch on the second date. I'm flexible like that."[/color]

[i]Date.[/i] Sutton’s mind caught on the word. He offered it so easily, almost like it was a slip of the tongue if it wasn’t for his smile that said he knew what he was doing, because of course he did. He always did. And then he said it again. Her lips parted, thoughts and words churned but no sentences formed, and her mouth snapped shut. It happened two more times, this wave of bewilderment that ebbed between knowing what to say and then losing it almost immediately. It was like her brain stalled. She probably could have stood there dumbfounded for minutes on end, but in the midst of it all she managed to return to addressing his cut with the wipe that was nearly dried out at that point. 

Having something else to focus on helped her thoughts settle into something more manageable and easy to sift through. Then after nearly a minute of silence, Sutton looked back down into his eyes. [color=fcb9c1]"[i]Second date?[/i]"[/color] she echoed, unable to fight the small curl of her mouth at the sight of his own grin. [color=fcb9c1]"That’s very presumptive of you."[/color] Her thoughts slowly wandered toward the whispers that spread through town about his dating history. She never put much stock in rumors and gossip, but she couldn’t help but wonder where she fell. Was she simply a pretty face and someone to pass the time with? Was she more? [i]Was she less?[/i] [color=fcb9c1]"Do you ask out every girl that finds herself in your garage?"[/color] she asked as some of her thoughts slipped free before she could temper them. And while her question might have been gently teasing, her voice was quiet and tentative, laced with deeper meaning she didn’t dare speak. 

Warren watched the question settle between them and felt something in his chest tighten unexpectedly. The garage seemed quieter for a moment, filled only by the distant hum of the heater, the Eagles playing softly through the speaker somewhere behind him, and the occasional rumbling snore from Mr. Rivers in the corner. Sutton's voice had been light when she asked it, teasing even, but he caught the uncertainty underneath. He understood it. Pine Ridge talked. People always talked. His reputation had grown far larger than the truth of it years ago.

A small shake of his head answered her before the words did. The amusement remained in his eyes, warm and bright, but the expression itself softened into something more serious. [color=3c6c6b]"I don't,"[/color] he said simply, and there was no hesitation in it. [color=3c6c6b]"Actually, it's been awhile."[/color] His gaze drifted briefly toward the floor between them as old memories brushed past, unwelcome and familiar. Heather had left scars deeper than the ones people could see, and after that he'd spent years throwing himself into the garage, the pack, and everyone else's problems before his own.

Sutton’s smile slowly faded as she watched the heaviness that settled behind Warren’s eyes before his gaze fell to the floor. She knew that look and it struck an aching familiarity in her chest. [i]Pain and loneliness.[/i] She regretted asking the moment she saw his contagious smile vanish beneath the weight of memories and wounds that never seemed to heal properly. Her thumbs idly toyed with the edge of the wipe as she shifted, and lightly bumped her leg against the inside of his knee, if only to draw his attention back up to her. [color=fcb9c1]"I’m sorry,"[/color] she whispered and shook her head softly. [color=fcb9c1]"I didn’t know."[/color]

The gentle bump of her leg against his knee pulled Warren from thoughts he'd rather not linger in. His gaze lifted from the concrete floor and settled on her face. The apology landed softly between them, carrying more weight than it should have, and something in his expression eased immediately. He hated that she'd looked guilty for asking. He hated even more that she'd recognized the look so quickly. It suggested experience. The kind nobody deserved.

A small shake of his head answered before the words did. [color=3c6c6b]"You don't have to be sorry,"[/color] he said gently. The warmth returned to his voice with surprising ease, drawn back by her presence alone. His hand lifted and caught one of hers before she could retreat behind another apology or change the subject entirely. The antiseptic wipe remained trapped loosely between her fingers as he carefully turned her hand over until her palm rested upward in his own.

The difference between them struck him immediately. Warren's hands were broad and rough from years spent rebuilding engines, splitting wood, fixing roofs, and doing every other job that needed doing around Pine Ridge. Small scars crossed his knuckles and calluses lined his palms. Sutton's hand looked impossibly soft by comparison, delicate and unmarked where his bore the evidence of decades spent working. His thumb brushed lightly across her palm before the tip of his finger traced one of the lines there, the touch feather-light and absent of anything except quiet affection.

His attention remained on her hand for a moment before he looked back up at her. The garage hummed around them. The heater clicked somewhere overhead, old music drifted lazily from the bluetooth speaker, and Mr. Rivers snored on through all of it without a care in the world. [color=3c6c6b]"You can ask me anything,"[/color] Warren said softly. There was no hesitation in it. [color=3c6c6b]"If I don't want to answer, I'll tell you. But you don't have to tiptoe around me, Sutton."[/color] His thumb brushed across her palm once more before a faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. [color=3c6c6b]"I'd rather you ask than spend the next week apologizing for being curious."[/color]

Sutton’s gaze followed the movement of his hand as he seized hers, not greedily like she might run away, but almost curious like some secret to her lived within the creases of her fingers or the lines of her palm. Warren’s skin looked impossibly tan encompassing her small pale hand, rough where hers was soft, work worn where she had never done a day of manual labor in her life. A multitude of differences narrowed down and simplified to two hands that looked stark next to one another. Her heart rate escalated and for a brief moment she worried that he could feel her pulse through her skin, but even if he did, it never showed across his face nor stopped the gentle persistence of his touch. 

The softness of his fingertip along her palm sent a chill up her arm and down her spine. Sutton might have heard every word he spoke, but it took longer for the meaning to sink in. Her time with the Mayor had conditioned her not to ask questions, to just accept what she’s told without prying, because it was safer than curiosity or answers. Being given the freedom to be curious and ask questions without repercussions landed somewhere tender behind her ribs, bringing warmth to a part of her that had been shut off for longer than she could remember. [color=fcb9c1]"I appreciate that,"[/color] she whispered, her voice tinged with nothing but sincerity and gratitude as she lifted her eyes to meet his gaze. 

The dried antiseptic lingered faintly in the air between them, mixing with motor oil, old leather, and the floral scent she carried with her. Warren frowned slightly, not from uncertainty but from the decision to stop dancing around it. Sutton deserved better than half-flirtations and implications hidden behind jokes. [color=3c6c6b]"Sutton,"[/color] he said, her name quieter than the rest of the conversation had been. [color=3c6c6b]"Would you like to go out on a date with me?"[/color]

The question settled naturally between them. Warren's lips tugged upward into a small smile as he held her gaze. There was no teasing in it this time, no easy escape route hidden behind a joke if she turned him down. Just honesty. [color=3c6c6b]"A real one,"[/color] he added after a moment. [color=3c6c6b]"Not because you're standing in my garage, and not because you patched up my forehead. Just because I enjoy talking to you and I'd like the chance to do it again somewhere that doesn't smell like transmission fluid."[/color]

Her gaze drifted back and forth between his eyes, brows furrowing as she noticed the faint frown that crossed his face before he spoke. Then Warren said her name with a gentle seriousness that caught her off guard, stirring something in her chest that stole her breath. Sutton didn’t look away, not when he set aside the flirting to ask her genuinely, not when his hand still held onto hers, nor when she felt the heat climb to her cheeks for the countless time. It was only when he smiled again that hers returned, soft and bashful, curling just enough to tease the slight dip of her dimples. Her head lulled to the side while her hand swept her untamed hair back behind her ear. [color=fcb9c1]"I don’t mind the smell… I kind of like it,"[/color] she confessed with a small shrug. There was a metallic tinge hidden beneath the heavy scent of motor oil and the salty sweat of manual labor. It was rugged, earthy, and surprisingly masculine. The scent clung to Warren whenever they crossed paths in town, far from the garage. But she didn’t mind. It didn’t stink, not to her. It just smelled like him.

Sutton could feel herself deflecting, skirting around an answer and avoiding what she wanted like she had been doing for the past four years. So, before her mind could try and force more logic, or linger on the fear of what Samuel would do if he found out, she drew in a breath and spoke honestly. [color=fcb9c1]"I would like that a lot."[/color] Once she answered, it was like a knot of tension across her back and shoulders had gone slack all at once. She didn’t realize how heavily always saying ‘no’ weighed on her until she finally caved and said yes, just once. It was freeing, like she could finally breathe, while equally nerve racking because she had just agreed to go on a date with the most sought after guy in town… It was a lot to digest.

For a second Warren simply stared at her. The answer registered immediately, but the meaning seemed to take a slower route through the rest of him. Then it landed all at once. Whatever careful restraint he'd been maintaining throughout the conversation shattered beneath a grin so genuine it transformed his entire face. He looked absurdly pleased with himself, like a kid who had walked into a candy store expecting to window shop and somehow left with the whole damn shelf.

The brightness that swept through him was impossible to hide. It softened the lingering shadows behind his eyes and pulled warmth into every corner of his expression. Sutton had seen him smile before. She'd seen him laugh. This was different. This was the look of a man who hadn't been certain of the answer and had spent the last ten minutes pretending otherwise. [color=3c6c6b]"Yeah?"[/color] he asked, the word escaping before he could stop it. His laugh followed immediately after, low and disbelieving, as if he needed to hear it one more time just to be sure he hadn't imagined the entire exchange.

Somehow Sutton’s face managed to turn the brightest shade of red it had all day at the sight of Warren’s widening grin. He was like a puppy, all smiles, enthusiasm, and unbridled excitement. She was unable to fight the power of it as her own smile bloomed, carving prominent dimples into her rosy cheeks. Whatever reaction she had been expecting, it wasn’t that. It was like she had given an answer to a question he had been harboring for years, not conceding to compensation for a wound she helped inflict. She couldn’t help but laugh at his bewilderment. [color=fcb9c1]"Yeah,"[/color] she replied softly, reassuring him whether his question was rhetorical or not.

His thumb brushed absentmindedly against the back of her hand where he still held it. The movement was unconscious, born entirely from the simple fact that he didn't particularly want to let go yet. [color=3c6c6b]"Well,"[/color] he said, trying and failing to look significantly less pleased than he felt, [color=3c6c6b]"That's good, because I was running dangerously low on backup plans."[/color] The joke carried only a fraction of its usual confidence. Beneath it lingered something honest and boyishly relieved.

Sutton’s smile softened as her head fell slightly. [color=fcb9c1]"Well… I was running out of excuses,"[/color] she confessed quietly, lifting her gaze to look over at him from beneath her long lashes.

She idled there for a moment or two, suspended in the silence of what she agreed to and Warren’s pleased smile. Eventually her gaze fell to their hands and the antiseptic wipe had long gone dry between her fingers as they debated back and forth. By all rights she should have been done. Sutton should have stepped away, cleaned up the trash, and freed him from her excessive nursing. Yet, she didn’t move, still standing between his knees as she lightly tapped her knuckle against his palm and whispered, [color=fcb9c1]"I need this back."[/color] 

Warren's gaze dropped to where her knuckle tapped lightly against his palm. For a moment he didn't move. The warmth of her hand had settled there so naturally that letting go felt strangely disappointing. His thumb brushed once across the back of her hand before his fingers slowly loosened. The absence was immediate.

There was a quiet, unspoken hesitance before Warren released his hold and she was able to slip her hand from his grasp with a strange reluctance that Sutton didn’t know what to make of. She cleared her throat, then raised the cloth, dabbing at the cut like she was checking to make sure it stopped bleeding, even if she already knew it had. The quiet lingered for a moment or two, filled only with distant snores and the rumble of the old heater, before her smile widened and her eyes lowered to meet his gaze. [color=fcb9c1]"I do still need to eat lunch,"[/color] she mused, redirecting the conversation all the way back to where it started with the closest thing to a flirt someone as unskilled as Sutton could manage.

The space between them felt strangely more charged and intimate with the prospect of a date looming in the distance. It meant that by some degree Warren enjoyed her company as much as she enjoyed his, and maybe he wasn’t lying when he said she was pretty. All things that were taking Sutton more time than she’d like to admit to process. And while she didn’t mind silence, [i]normally[/i], it felt different as they remained close, so she reached for the first thing she could latch onto and found comfort in their easy conversation. [color=fcb9c1]"I had kind of figured you would’ve been closed,"[/color] she commented while gently running the cloth along his forehead. [color=fcb9c1]"You know with it being Saturday… [i]and a holiday,[/i]"[/color] Sutton added as if she was trying to make a point that he shouldn’t have been there anymore than she should have been, because working on Halloween was almost as stupid as needing an oil change on Halloween. Then her brows furrowed, realizing the irony in her statement before letting out a guilty chuckle. [color=fcb9c1]"I guess I have no room to talk,"[/color] she confessed with a small grimace. 

Warren shrugged one shoulder carefully as she continued fussing over the cut, the antiseptic smell mixing with motor oil and old grease in the warm air of the garage. [color=3c6c6b]"The boys don't like having the garage closed, even if there isn't much to do,"[/color] he said, watching her concentrate on cleaning the last traces of blood from his forehead. [color=3c6c6b]"A lot of them need the money, so I do what I can to help."[/color] There wasn't any pride in the statement, it was simply the truth. Most of the younger mechanics who came through Boone's Garage needed steady hours more than they needed another lecture about responsibility, and Warren had always found it easier to invest in people than talk down to them.

His gaze drifted briefly toward the open bay door where sunlight spilled across the concrete floor. More than a few of the men working for him had started as teenagers with nowhere particular to be and no real direction beyond wanting to learn. Warren trained them himself whenever he had the time, taught them the trade properly, and paid them enough to actually build a life with it. He encouraged them to leave Pine Ridge if they wanted to. A good mechanic could find work anywhere, and he liked knowing that if one of his guys decided there was more waiting beyond the Black Hills, they'd have the skills to go find it. The Boone boys weren’t rich, but they had inherited enough from their parents that generosity came easier than it might have otherwise, and Warren had never seen much point in hoarding what he didn't need.

The gentle rhythm of her hand slowed until the fingers holding the wipe stalled beside the cut while her gaze lowered to meet his as he spoke. [color=fcb9c1]"That’s… sweet,"[/color] Sutton admitted with a raw sincerity that settled easily between them. [color=fcb9c1]"The world could use more men like you and your brother. You know, kind and considerate."[/color] For whatever reason the compliment came easily, without bashfulness or the need to shrink away, because it was more than that… It was the truth. There was a reason the town heralded the Boone family the way it did. It was similar to the way they looked at her own parents and the Anders. She was aware of Warren and Harlan’s generosity, heard about how they helped the little folks around town, but it was different hearing him explain it so simply, like it wasn’t so much a choice but the right thing to do. 

[color=fcb9c1]"I feel like kindness is slowly dying,"[/color] she added with a pensive crease between her brows. [color=fcb9c1]"Or maybe I’m just getting old and jaded,"[/color] Sutton mused as a smirk curled into her left cheek. 

Warren's smile softened at the compliment, though he immediately looked like he wanted to shrug it off before it settled anywhere too deep. Praise had always sat awkwardly on his shoulders. He could rebuild an engine blindfolded, run the pack, or spend three days helping someone fix their roof without a second thought, but being thanked for it always made him look vaguely uncomfortable. The warmth in Sutton's voice lingered anyway, settling somewhere beneath his ribs despite his best efforts.

[color=3c6c6b]"There's a lot of kindness out there,"[/color] he said, his tone gentler than it had been a moment ago. His gaze followed the careful movements of her hand as she worked, watching her dab at his forehead with the same attention she seemed to give everything. [color=3c6c6b]"You just have to know where to look for it."[/color] One shoulder lifted in a small shrug. [color=3c6c6b]"Most of the time it isn't loud. It isn't the people making speeches about doing the right thing or wanting credit for it. It's usually something smaller."[/color]

The corner of his mouth twitched upward as he looked back at her. [color=3c6c6b]"You're kind and considerate too, you know."[/color] There wasn't any teasing hidden in the words this time. [color=3c6c6b]"Not everyone cares enough to actually get to know someone before they go snooping around town looking for gossip. Most people hear a story and decide they've got a person figured out."[/color] His eyes lingered on her face for a moment before drifting toward the garage around them. [color=3c6c6b]"You actually listen. That's rarer than you'd think."[/color]

Her smile softened as the redness crept back along her cheeks slowly. Sutton knew nearly everyone in town. They smiled and waved and shared pleasantries, but other than that she figured she was fairly… [i]forgettable.[/i] The Mayor’s assistant seemed to be a title that preceded her above all else. It was like the other pieces of her had become less important over time. People noticed her existing, sure, but not the way Warren did. Being seen like that made something warm constrict in her chest. A second or two passed before her shoulders rose in a small shrug. [color=fcb9c1]"I like to give everyone the benefit of the doubt. There’s more to us than the gossip whispered when we’re not around. I like to come to my own conclusions about people."[/color]

[color=3c6c6b]"I like that,"[/color] he murmured, voice soft. [color=3c6c6b]"Not everyone thinks like that, it’s refreshing."[/color] Sutton's hand brushed lightly against his hair as she cleaned around the cut, and Warren found himself smiling faintly at the attention. The garage fell into a comfortable quiet for a few seconds, broken only by the distant guitar from the bluetooth speaker and the soft snore drifting from Mr. Rivers corner, who Warren was paying even if he was napping, because the old men needed a break just as much as the young did. [color=3c6c6b]"I like coming here too, when I've got too much on my mind,"[/color] he admitted after a moment, thinking back to what brought him there in the first place. His fingers drummed once against his knee before settling again. [color=3c6c6b]"Something about taking apart an engine makes the rest of the world easier to sort out. Cars usually tell you what's wrong with them if you're patient enough to listen."[/color]

A warmer smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he looked up at her. [color=3c6c6b]"People are a lot less considerate."[/color] The teasing note returned to his voice, softer now than it had been when she'd first walked into the shop. [color=3c6c6b]"Though I suppose some of them show up carrying a first aid kit in their purse and make themselves easier to figure out than most."[/color]

[color=fcb9c1]"Yeah, well… Most people suck,"[/color] Sutton practically blurted out, quickly followed by a small snort of a laugh at her own shameless admission. His second comment made her eyes roll again while the warmth of a flush teased along her cheeks. [color=fcb9c1]"I’m not that complicated,"[/color] she added, running the wipe along the cut one last time, for good measure. She took a small step back, not having realized the warmth Warren radiated until it was severed by distance. Her fingers folded up the stained antiseptic cloth with an unnecessary order, busying her hands as she spoke. [color=fcb9c1]"I’m an open book. People just don’t take the time to slow down and read it."[/color] She shrugged her shoulders slightly like it was a truth she had accepted long ago. 

Sutton stepped around where he sat on the stool, more aware of the room he occupied and how different it felt when they no longer existed within each other's space. She drifted closer, almost subconsciously, as she reached past him and grabbed the wrapper that rested beside her purse. [color=fcb9c1]"I can see how a hobby like this could help quiet your mind when it gets noisy,"[/color] she commented, motioning toward the garage as she started walking around the Impala in search of a trash can. [color=fcb9c1]"I could probably use a distraction like that,"[/color] she admitted as she found somewhere to dispose of the trash then returned to where Warren waited. She stood before him once again, not between his knees or close enough to feel his breath, but the space was still smaller, just close enough to be faintly intimate. [color=fcb9c1]"I usually just put my faith in my lord and savior, Ben and Jerry’s, and watch a comfort movie when people piss me off."[/color] A bright, guilty smile blossomed across her face, warming her eyes and carving deep dimples into her cheeks.

Warren listened with the kind of attention that made it feel like every answer mattered. His grin softened into something fond as she described herself as an open book. The statement felt true. Not because Sutton shared everything, but because what she did offer was honest. Most people spent so much time performing versions of themselves that they forgot who they were underneath. Sutton never seemed to do that, she simply existed exactly as she was.

The mention of Ben and Jerry's immediately caught his attention. [color=3c6c6b]"Hold on,"[/color] he interrupted, lifting a finger toward her. [color=3c6c6b]"What's your favorite flavor?"[/color] The question came quickly, earnest enough to suggest it carried genuine importance. He leaned back slightly on the stool, studying her face like the answer might reveal some deeply guarded secret. [color=3c6c6b]"And don't tell me something boring."[/color] The corner of his mouth twitched upward. [color=3c6c6b]"If you're going to put your faith in Ben and Jerry's, I need specifics."[/color]

His curiosity only seemed to grow from there. [color=3c6c6b]"And what's the comfort movie?"[/color] he asked. The question followed immediately on the heels of the first. [color=3c6c6b]"Don't overthink it. First answer."[/color] Warren folded his arms loosely across his chest as though preparing to evaluate her choices with the utmost seriousness. The amusement dancing behind his eyes ruined the effect entirely. [color=3c6c6b]"These are important compatibility questions."[/color]

Sutton went to reach for her purse but paused when Warren interjected like she had dropped some vital information without the proper amount of context. Her eyes widened with a guilty little smile as she froze halfway leaned around him with her fingers curled around her clutch. Her laugh was warm and light as she scooped her purse from the hood of the Impala and returned to the spot she had been occupying in front of him. [color=fcb9c1]"[i]Compatibility questions,[/i]"[/color] she echoed while slipping her arm through the strap of her bag and resting it on top of her shoulder. [color=fcb9c1]"No pressure,"[/color] she mused. 

Her eyes squinted pensively before her face scrunched in an attempt to convey guilt, but it mostly looked like a very sad attempt at deception. Sutton was never very good at lying. [color=fcb9c1]"[i]Vanilla?[/i]"[/color] Her grimace deepened for a second or two, before the charade crumbled beneath her terrible acting. [color=fcb9c1]"No,"[/color] she clarified, waving her hands with a weak laugh. [color=fcb9c1]"It’s s’mores."[/color] There was a brief pause as she ran through the small list of movies she owned, but immediately caught on the one she had watched so many times the DVD box was cracked and the disc usually just lived in the player. [color=fcb9c1]"Umm… [i]Stardust?[/i]"[/color] She replied with raised brows and little to no conviction. [color=fcb9c1]"You’ve probably never heard of it…"[/color]

Warren looked entirely too invested in her answers. The moment she admitted vanilla had been a lie, his grin widened in obvious approval, as though she'd narrowly avoided failing some invisible test he'd invented thirty seconds earlier. S'mores earned an approving nod, and he filed the information away immediately. The kind of detail most people would forget by lunchtime settled neatly into place inside his memory instead.

The movie answer caught him by surprise. His brows lifted slightly as he searched his memory and came up empty. There wasn't any embarrassment in the admission when he finally shook his head. [color=3c6c6b]"I don't watch too many movies,"[/color] he admitted. The confession carried a faint bashfulness to it, the kind that only appeared when he realized he might not know something he probably should. Working, the pack, the garage, and town business had a habit of consuming most of his free time.

Rather than looking deterred, he seemed to brighten at the possibility, and an idea appeared to take root immediately. [color=3c6c6b]"We should watch it together."[/color] The suggestion arrived with the certainty of a man who thought he'd just stumbled across the greatest idea of the century. His expression didn't change until a second later when he seemed to realize how quickly he'd said it. 

[color=3c6c6b]"I mean, if you want,"[/color] he amended, though there wasn't much conviction behind the retreat. [color=3c6c6b]"I probably shouldn't get too far ahead of myself, I suppose."[/color] The grin that followed completely undermined the statement. Warren looked very much like a man already getting ahead of himself and enjoying every second of it. The warmth in his eyes never wavered as he looked up at her. 

Sutton’s smile remained stubbornly persistent, even when she tried to tuck her lips between her teeth or when she suddenly became very interested in the little ivory bows that sat on top of her shoes. [color=fcb9c1]"Probably shouldn’t,"[/color] she mused quietly while the wind blew wild blonde curls across her face. [color=fcb9c1]"Because if we’re going to watch [i]my[/i] comfort movie, then we have to watch yours too. Only fair."[/color] A subtle glint shined behind her eyes as she slowly looked back up to meet his gaze, subconsciously playing into his eagerness without fully being aware she was doing it. [color=fcb9c1]"Plus,"[/color] she added with a small tilt of her head. [color=fcb9c1]"Stardust is kind of like a romantic, fantasy, adventure?… I don’t know if you’ll like it."[/color]

The suggestion landed exactly the way Sutton probably should have expected it to. Warren's entire expression brightened with immediate approval. He looked genuinely delighted by the prospect, as though she'd just proposed something far more exciting than spending a few hours watching movies together. [color=3c6c6b]"Movie marathon,"[/color] he declared, nodding once as if the matter had already been settled. [color=3c6c6b]"That sounds perfect."[/color] His smile widened another fraction at the thought. [color=3c6c6b]"But it means you'll have to sit through my questionable movie choices too."[/color] The warning lacked any real sincerity. If anything, he sounded proud of it.

[color=fcb9c1]"I’m tougher than I look,"[/color] Sutton mused, entirely unphased and lacking any concern about whatever movies he watched. If she had to guess it was some corny 80s action film, or a comedy, or maybe something Disney. And if it wasn’t? Well… Maybe they should watch Stardust second, like a palate cleanser.

[color=fcb9c1]"Well…"[/color] She laughed awkwardly, reaching up to tuck her hair behind her ears before lightly clapping her hands together. [color=fcb9c1]"I should probably stop smothering and fussing over you."[/color] Sutton held up her hands in innocent surrender, before motioning in the direction of the diner farther down Main Street. [color=fcb9c1]"You’re free to go."[/color] She paused, chuckled softly, then corrected herself. [color=fcb9c1]"Or I guess [i]we[/i] are?"[/color]

By the time she declared him free to go, Warren looked downright offended by the suggestion. The stool wheels squeaked softly across the concrete as he pushed himself upright in one smooth motion. Standing only seemed to increase the energy radiating from him. The date had gone from possibility to reality, and he wore the knowledge openly. [color=3c6c6b]"Free to go?"[/color] he echoed. [color=3c6c6b]"I just got you to agree to a date. Why would I leave now?"[/color] His grin widened as he brushed his hands against his jeans.

The height difference reasserted itself the moment he straightened fully. Warren looked down at her with the same eager expression he'd been wearing ever since she said yes. [color=3c6c6b]"What are you hungry for?"[/color] he asked. There wasn't a trace of hesitation in him anymore. [color=3c6c6b]"Because unless your answer is transmission fluid, I think we can find something better than the garage."[/color] His gaze drifted briefly toward the diner before returning to her. [color=3c6c6b]"Your choice."[/color]

Sutton’s gaze lifted, following him as he rose from the stool to tower over her once again. The whole height and muscles thing didn’t really help ease the persistent fluttering that settled in her stomach ever since he held her hand. The best she could do was try to ignore it, although it did make the prospect of eating slightly more difficult. [color=fcb9c1]"I don’t actually know,"[/color] she confessed with a small chuckle. [color=fcb9c1]"I just know I [i]need[/i] to eat because I won’t get to again until the festival and I overslept… So I completely missed breakfast."[/color] Her attention followed Warren’s attention farther down the street toward the diner that had a constant flow of townies and tourists flooding in and out of its doors. [color=fcb9c1]"It’s the only restaurant in town,"[/color] she offered, sparing him a sidelong glance. [color=fcb9c1]"Probably the safest bet."[/color]

Warren followed her gaze toward the diner and nodded easily. The suggestion suited him just fine. It wasn't fancy, but neither of them seemed like the sort of people who needed fancy. The smell of coffee and burgers drifting through Main Street every morning had been pulling people through those doors for decades, and today was no different. [color=3c6c6b]"The diner sounds perfect,"[/color] he said. 

Another snore tore through the garage, drawing Sutton’s attention past toolboxes and hanging engines to where the old man still napped. There was a small part of her that felt guilty about having to wake him up to work on the Mayor’s car, although it was easily overshadowed by Warren’s excitement that shined brighter than the rare glimpses of sunlight that crept into Pine Ridge. She pointed toward Mr. Rivers then the Mercedes parked in the drive. [color=fcb9c1]"Do you need to…?"[/color] she asked, if only because she could see him forgetting about it entirely amidst, you know… everything else.

Then another snore rattled through the garage. Warren's attention shifted immediately toward the far corner where Mr. Rivers remained sprawled in his chair with all the determination of a man who had no intention of participating in the workday. Following Sutton's gesture, he let out a quiet laugh and rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. The Mercedes had completely slipped his mind. So had the oil change. So had just about everything that wasn't standing directly in front of him.

[color=3c6c6b]"Right,"[/color] he admitted with a sheepish grin. [color=3c6c6b]"Probably should do that."[/color] He pointed toward the office at the back of the garage. [color=3c6c6b]"Make yourself comfortable for a minute. I'll go wake the old man up and try to convince him he's got to [i]actually[/i] work to still be employed."[/color]

Sutton laughed softly, the sound light and airy, laced with her own slight bashfulness. She pointed towards Main Street on the other side of the garage. [color=fcb9c1]"I was going to take a peek at some of the decorations."[/color] She offered him a small, warm smile before she shooed him off and he started weaving his way deeper into the garage. When Warren was halfway to Mr. Rivers, she called after him, her voice nothing but gentle teasing, even in her less than intimidating authority. [color=fcb9c1]"And wash your hands, grease monkey. Motor oil isn’t part of a balanced diet."[/color]

Shaking his head, Warren turned and headed deeper into the garage. His boots echoed softly against the concrete as he passed toolboxes, workbenches, and an engine hanging from a hoist. The command stopped him mid-step, and a grin immediately threatened the corner of his mouth. He didn't turn around right away, partly because he was trying very hard not to look as pleased by being ordered around as he felt. [color=3c6c6b]"Yes, ma'am,"[/color] he called back anyway.


Sutton had already wandered out of the bay doors when she heard his response. She stopped for a second, glancing back over her shoulder toward him with a faint, reluctantly bright smile, then drifted around toward the front of the garage that faced Main Street. She looked down the road watching citizens setting up stalls and decorations, or tourists meandering about to try and sneak a peek. It was odd seeing months of hard work and planning finally culminating before her eyes. There were countless sleepless nights and early mornings, all for this. The real irony was that the Mayor was going to get all the recognition. No one ever noticed or acknowledged the assistant, even if they did most of the heavy lifting. If she was looking forward to it, it was almost more so for it all to be over than the prospect of getting to enjoy herself. 

She sighed softly, looking down at her hands as she waited. Her thumb idly ran along the line across her palm, subconsciously following the same path Warren’s finger had traced. When Sutton noticed, she flushed, cleared her throat, and clenched her fist. But as her hand turned over, she noticed a faint smudge of grease along her skin just beneath her knuckles. Normally, she would have immediately fetched something from her bag to clean it up… But for reasons she didn’t quite let herself fixate on, she left it, instead running the tip of her thumb along the edge of it… As if nothing that day had felt real until it left behind a tangible mark. 

The closer he got, the louder the snoring became. Mr. Rivers hadn't moved an inch. Warren stopped beside the chair and looked down at him for a moment before sighing through his nose. [color=3c6c6b]"Mr. Rivers,"[/color] he called. The old mechanic didn't stir. Warren tried again, louder this time. [color=3c6c6b]"Rivers."[/color] Still nothing. Finally, Warren reached out and poked the man in the chest. One eye immediately cracked open. [color=3c6c6b]"There he is."[/color]

[color=3c6c6b]"Need you to do me a favor,"[/color] he said, grinning at the drowsy man, jerking a thumb toward the black Mercedes sitting outside. [color=3c6c6b]"Mayor's car needs an oil change."[/color] Rivers squinted toward the bay door, then back at Warren. His gaze narrowed immediately, and it said everything without him having to even open his mouth. Warren rubbed the back of his neck once. The answer felt strangely satisfying to say out loud. [color=3c6c6b]"Taking Sutton to lunch."[/color] 

For a second, Mr. Rivers simply stared at him. Then he barked out a laugh loud enough to echo through the garage. He pushed himself upright with a groan afterwards, muttering something about young men chasing tail. [color=d6d6d6]"Go on then. I'll handle the oil change."[/color]

The old man waved him away with one weathered hand. Warren shook his head, still grinning despite himself, and headed back toward the front of the shop. Sutton was waiting, and for the first time all morning, the knot of frustration Heather had left behind felt a little smaller… he went back to wash his hands though, remembering belatedly that she’d told him to do so. 

[b][i]End of part 1[/i][/b][/color][/justify][/indent][/indent][/indent][/indent]

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