It wasn’t supposed to mean anything. She was just there for the food and small talk. But when she saw him — tall, broad-shouldered, a little gray at the temples — something in her chest shifted. His smile wasn’t flashy, just warm. His voice carried the kind of calm that made people stop and listen.

Her father, apron on and spatula in hand, waved her over. “Amber, meet Steve. Worked with me back in the day.”
“Nice to meet you,” Steve said, extending a hand. She shook it, feeling a current she hadn’t felt in years.

All afternoon, she found herself stealing glances at him. He was polite, attentive, and kind in a way that felt deliberate — the opposite of the loud, arrogant types she’d grown tired of. When the evening wrapped up and she tried to leave, her car refused to start. Typical.
Before she could fetch her dad, there was a knock on her window. Steve stood there, smiling. “Mind if I take a look?”