Riley smiled despite herself.
He removed a side cover, used a flashlight, then ran two fingers along the fuel line.
“There.”
“What?”
“Crack.”
She stepped closer.
Daniel pointed.
“Cold opened it up. You were running off what remained in the carburetor.”
“Can you fix it?”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“Hour.”
Riley looked toward the window.
Snow was getting heavier.
“Is there somewhere nearby I can wait?”
Daniel looked at her.
“You can wait here.”
“I meant café. Hotel. Anything.”
“Not safely in this.”
He said it as a fact, not an invitation.
Riley nodded.
“Here it is.”
Daniel went to his shelving and began searching for a replacement line.
Riley sat on a wooden stool.
Her phone buzzed.
Three messages from Marcus.
Two from Noah.
One from Brendan, inexplicably.
She turned the phone face down.
Daniel noticed none of it.
Or pretended not to.
He worked quietly, hands moving with a certainty Riley found oddly hypnotic. No wasted gestures. No checking instructions. No dramatic sighs designed to communicate expertise.
“You always repair motorcycles after hours?” she asked.
“Depends who pushes them through blizzards.”
“That feels judgmental.”
“It is.”
“You could have left me outside.”
“No.”
The answer was immediate.
Riley looked at him.
Daniel kept working.
She asked, “Why not?”
He shrugged.
“Cold.”
As if that explained everything.
The inner door opened.
A little girl appeared.
Seven, maybe.
Dark brown hair in two uneven pigtails.
Pink pajamas covered with foxes.
A stuffed rabbit hung from one hand by its ear.
She stopped when she saw Riley.
Then looked at Daniel.
Then back at Riley.
“Hi.”
Riley smiled.
“Hi.”
“I’m Sophie.”
“Riley.”
Sophie studied her wet clothing.
“Why are you wet?”
“I made several poor decisions.”
Sophie considered this.
“Dad says wet people get cold faster.”
Daniel said without looking up, “I said wet clothes make you lose heat faster.”
“Same thing.”
“Not exactly.”
Sophie ignored him.
“Do you want hot chocolate?”
Riley blinked.
“Yes.”
“Dad taught me.”
Daniel finally looked up.
“Sophie, it’s after nine.”
“I heard the door.”
“That is not bedtime logic.”
Sophie looked at Riley conspiratorially.
“He thinks everything needs logic.”
Riley glanced at Daniel.
“I’m beginning to notice.”
The corner of his mouth moved.
Sophie disappeared.
Riley watched the doorway close.
“She’s yours?”
Daniel looked mildly offended.
“No, she wandered in four years ago and refused to leave.”
Riley laughed.
Daniel smiled properly now.
It changed his face.
She noticed too much.
“She’s seven?”
“Yes.”
“Her mother?”
The smile faded, but not sharply.
“Died two years ago.”
Riley’s expression softened.
“I’m sorry.”
Daniel nodded once.
“Thank you.”
No explanation.
No request for sympathy.
Riley respected that.
Sophie returned carrying two mugs with both hands, walking so carefully she resembled someone transporting unstable explosives.
“I put extra marshmallows in yours.”
Riley accepted the mug.
“Why?”