The bead of sweat dripped from Mason’s back down to the crack of his ass. He flinched on reflex, smacking his head into the hood of the car above. He grimaced, rubbing his head to minimize the pain.

“You okay under there?”

Mason looked up at Chase, his latest client. Their car had stalled on the way to his daughter’s school. Luckily Mason’s Body Shop was on the way, and he’d coasted the car to just outside his garage.

“Yeah, just getting a handle on her,” Mason said as he looked back under the hood. The oil was fine (Chase had checked it himself first thing as they pulled in), and spark plugs were all working. Mason was stumped.

“Come on, we’re going to be late!”

Mason popped his head out from the hood as Chase’s eyes widened, embarrassed by the redheaded child in the passenger seat. She was wearing a dinosaur T-shirt and some kind of plastic tiara.

“Now, Lyla, this nice man is helping us. Be polite,” Chase told her gently as Mason wiped the sweat from his forehead. “Are you sure you’re allowed to wear your Wonder Woman crown to school, sweetie?”

Mason leaned over the radiator, hovering his hand over the metal. It was hotter than normal.

“It’s not a crown, Daddy. It’s a tiara!” Lyla corrected him. “And it’s for the school play this afternoon. I’m one of the wise men!”

“Yeah, Chase, that’s clearly a tiara,” the man standing next to Chase joined in with Lyla. He beamed at Chase with his big brown eyes. The man put his hands on Chase’s shoulder, visibly relaxing him. Mason got the vibe that they were lovers. He had noticed a few gay couples around town, especially at the farmer’s market on Saturdays.

In Mason’s old Marine unit, even the whiff of something girly or gay would receive ridicule for days on end. It was an adjustment to come back to Hidden Creek, the town turning more gay-friendly in his absence. It didn’t bother Mason any. It was just taking him some getting used to.

Mason pushed these thoughts aside as he looked for the thermostat. He found the casing for the device loose next to the water pump. No wonder Mason was sweating like a race horse, the thermostat was practically falling out of the car. He double-checked the thermostat was still working, pulled out his socket wrench, and tightened the bolts, snapping it back into place.

Mason breathed in relief as the radiator began to cool. He stood up straight, his back cracking as he slammed down the hood of the car.

“You had a loose thermostat casing, so your radiator was overheating,” he explained as he wiped his hands on his shirt, smearing engine grease onto his already messy clothing.

“Oh my gosh!” Chase said. “Hunter, that was—”

“Lucky of us to find such a good mechanic on the way.” The man, Hunter, nodded at Mason.

“It’s already fixed. Nothing to worry about.” Mason clipped the hood of the car shut, catching Lyla’s eyes. He winked, the young lady giggling back at him.

“Your hair is really short!” Lyla said like it was new information.

“Yeah, they shaved it like that when I was in the military. Marines, specifically,” Mason explained. Lyla’s eyes went wide as she grabbed her large mane of hair. “Does that sound fun?” Mason probed further, grinning from ear to ear. Lyla shook her head as she smiled back at him.

As they were talking, Chase pulled out his wallet. Mason looked up at the man, shaking his head in response.

“Buddy, I tightened three bolts. Took me five minutes.”

“Are you sure?” Chase’s eyes lit up as Hunter paused, the back door of the car half open in his hand.

“Yeah, you’ve gotta get Wonder Woman to school on time, remember?” Mason said as Hunter got in the car, lowering the back window.

“Semper Fi,” Hunter said as he made eye contact with Mason. Hunter had gotten an ex-military vibe from the man. He was glad to meet another Marine in Hidden Creek.

“Semper Fi,” Mason replied as Chase tried the ignition, his car starting on the first try.

“Oh my god, dude, you’re a lifesaver!” Chase said as he began to pull out of the shop. Hunter leaned out the back seat, slapping his hand into Mason’s.

“For your troubles.” Hunter left something in Mason’s hand as Chase pulled off from the curb. He had left Mason with a fifty-dollar tip.

He chuckled, knowing that even if he could catch up to their car, there was no arguing with a fellow Marine. A thermostat fix could cost upwards of a hundred dollars, even though Mason hadn’t used any parts.

Mason looked up at the Texan sun, a slight breeze cooling him on the early December day. He breathed in deep, taking in the air of Hidden Creek. Mason had returned from his tour of duty barely two months ago, after repairing over two hundred Hummers and nearly as many tanks. The heat from the sun was still intense-like over there, but different. Somehow not as kind as Hidden Creek.

Mason looked at the outside of his garage. Mason’s Body Shop. The sign still glistened new unless the rest of the run-down building. It had good bones but just needed some attention.

He had saved up as much of his Marine salary as he could for his down payment on a garage when he got back home. What he hadn’t counted on was the sudden boom in the economy this year. Several small businesses had cropped up in the area, not leaving a lot of real estate to go around. Mason had to choose between a tiny garage that could barely fit in one car for repair, or one four times as big.

If Mason had learned one thing from the Marines and from Texas, it was go big or go home. With the large garage, he just needed business to pick up sooner rather than later to keep afloat. Especially with the bank breathing down his neck every other day.

What certainly didn’t help was Tristan, Mason’s employee and fellow mechanic, who was already out of his work clothes and heading out the door with his gym bag. He skidded to a halt as he saw Mason, his wispy hair blowing in the breeze.

“Whoa there, what’s going on?” Mason asked. It wasn’t even nine o’clock, they had barely started the day.

“Oh, hey there, boss. Just coming out to find you.” Mason doubted that and merely raised an eyebrow, waiting for Tristan to continue his explanation. “My mom just called. My…” Tristan breathed in deep, looking to Mason like he was trying to cry. “My gram-gram was rushed into the hospital. She… she doesn’t have much time left.”

“Oh gosh, that is tragic,” Mason agreed. Tristan smiled at him before heading to the street. “Especially since your other grandma just passed away a month and a half ago.”

“Oh.” Tristan paused, thinking it through. “Oh, I know, right? How tragic these past couple months have been! The McPoyle family is truly being tested. And just before Christmas!”

“Yeah, and three weeks before that, your other other grandma died of a heart attack.”

Tristan went still, clutching his bag.

“My, well, you see… that was my step-grandma. And she—” Mason didn’t let him finish his lie.

“Get your ass back in the shop,” he told Tristan.

“Yep.” Tristan gave up, heading back into the garage.

The rest of the morning went smoothly. They changed a set of tires for Mrs. Shirley’s old Ford Taurus. Tristan changed a spark plug without Mason’s assistance for once. Mason even had time to do some weekly cleaning early, washing down his four car lifts.

The only problem was the downtime. They had nothing booked for the shop until three in the afternoon. An hour spent doing nothing was an hour spent not making money. Mason thought it would be a good time for him to reorganize his tools. Tristan thought it would be a good time to watch wedding proposal fails on YouTube.

Tristan cackled once more as Mason looked over his socket wrenches.

“Haha, this asshole went for it after only three months dating!” Tristan took another large gulp from his Coke as Mason glared up at him.

“Y’know, you could learn something here,” Mason told him.

“Yeah, ladies be crazy.” Tristan snickered at his laptop as Mason compared his two sets of socket wrenches. He could keep them separate or mix them up by size order. He decided on the latter, taking them off the hooks in the tool cabinet one by one to rehang them.

On the last wrench, he heard a clattering.

“What now!?” Mason veered around to see Tristan sat still watching YouTube, totally unaware of any noise.

Another clatter. Mason looked up. It sounded like it came from upstairs, in his apartment above the shop.

Mason approached the stairs at the end of the open-floor garage. He heard another clattering sound, followed by a smash.

He instinctively pulled a large wrench from his tool belt, ready to face whoever was up there. He hoped it wouldn’t come to that, he was a big guy and could usually scare off any troublemakers.

At the top of the stairs, Mason unlocked his door, slamming it open. He stormed into the center of the apartment, a large open space, one half kitchen, the other half living room. Someone had knocked the blender off the counter, shattered glass littering the floor.

“Whoever is up here, I’m armed, and the police are on their way!” Mason hoped that would be enough to scare off whoever was up here.

The reply was unexpected.

“Meow.”

Mason stopped, lowering his wrench, as a chestnut-brown cat sauntered out of his bedroom, her tail swishing as she looked up at Mason.

“MEOW!” she shouted up at him.

“Whoa, hey there, little one!” Mason knelt as he put away his tool, offering his fingertips to the animal. She looked fully grown to him, but her fur was untamed, and she shuddered as his arm came out. “It’s okay. I ain’t gonna hurt you.”

The cat cautiously puttered over before sniffing Mason’s hand. She then started to lick the engine grease from his fingers.

Mason slowly lifted his hand and began to pet the frightened cat. She looked up at him wide-eyed before leaning her back into the strokes.

“You lost, little one?” Mason couldn’t see a collar. He needed to get her to a vet so she could reunite with her owner. But he knew one false move and she would bolt out the open window in his bedroom and be gone forever.

He slowly stood up, getting out his phone to Google what cats liked to eat. Cooked meat was number one on the list.

Mason opened his fridge carefully, pulling out some slices of cooked turkey. Expensive slices from the farmer’s market — he usually ate it as a postworkout protein treat.

The cat jumped up onto the counter (where his blender once lived), looking up expectantly as Mason offered her a piece of turkey. She gobbled the chunk in his hand. Mason tore up several more chunks, keeping them in his open hand. After a few minutes, the lost cat had eaten the lot and meowed up at Mason for more.

“We gotta get you sorted out first.” Mason slowly wrapped one of his muscular arms around the cat and scooped her up. He half expected her to struggle out of his grasp, but instead the cat nestled into him.

As Mason locked his apartment and made his way back down the stairs, the cat began to purr, wriggling herself into a more snuggly position. Mason couldn’t help but grin from the affectionate sound.

“Is that a fucking cat?” Tristan looked up in shock from his laptop.

“Poor little thing sneaked in through the window looking for food. I gotta go get her chip checked, get her back to her rightful owner. If there’s an emergency, I’ll be on my cell. I’ll be back by three.” Mason headed out to his tow truck, leaving Tristan to manage the shop.

Mason figured there was only a twenty percent chance Tristan would accidentally set the shop on fire in his absence.

Mason looked up the closest vet on his phone, sitting the cat on the passenger seat. He made sure all the windows were up. Usually driving on I-45 with the wind in his hair was one of his simpler pleasures, but he couldn’t risk the stray cat trying to escape out the window.

Today he would have to rely on A/C alone. He pulled out from his garage, the stray looking up at him with big wide eyes as he made his way out to the closest vet, heading for I-45.