We worked in silence for a bit.
Or tried to.
But chemistry is loud as it sits in the small spaces.
In the glance you catch when you aren’t prepared, which he managed to give more often than not.
In the brush of two hands reaching for the same carabiner or in the way my pulse kicked when he stood just a little too close.
At one point, our fingers touched over a coil of rope, and my breath stuttered.
Aloud.
He didn’t pull away immediately, and neither did I. Something charged lingered between us. It wasn’t like last night’s impulsive fire but something slower, deeper, and far more dangerous.
I stepped back first, heart hammering, and cleared my throat. “Inventory! Yes. Inventorying things. Very normal.”
He exhaled softly. “Sienna.”
I froze, and he took a slow step toward me. He wasn’t touching me, but he was closer. Close enough that the cold garage felt smaller and close enough that I could feel the heat of him.
“Last night… didn’t feel like a mistake.” He lowered his voice. “Did it?”
My pulse leapt, and every nerve in my body lit up.
“It…” I swallowed. “It surprised me.”
“It surprised me, too.”
That shouldn’t have mattered. But it did. It mattered in a way I wasn’t ready to unpack.
I forced myself to look up at him. “Carson… I don’t know what to do with this.”
“Neither do I.”
“And I recognize that I’m the one who started it.” I shifted my weight from one foot to the next.
We stood there, breath mingling, the quiet hum of the shed the only witness.
Then Beck’s voice boomed from outside.
“Hey, you two making out in there or what? Is it safe to come in?”
Carson closed his eyes, and I considered murder.
“No!” I yelled back. “We’re coworkers who are completely professional.”
“Is that code?” Beck shouted.
Carson pinched the bridge of his nose. “Your brother is…”
“The worst,” I said. “I know.”
He let out a deep breath. “We should finish the dry bags.”
“Yes,” I said. “Before my family comes with binoculars.”
We turned back to the gear, both of us pretending the room hadn’t just shifted on its axis.
