Page 54 of Carrick
Inside, the space closed around us—barely room to move without brushing elbows. The air was thick with heat. Toolslined the walls in neat rows. The old pump crouched in the corner, grumbling like it had a score to settle.
Bellamy stepped in behind me, ducking under the frame.
“Cozy,” she murmured.
“Cozy? It’s a fucking sweatbox.”
She set the toolbox down and leaned against the opposite wall. “I’m just observing the ambiance.”
“Of oil fumes and rust.”
“And your charming presence.”
I looked up from where I was inspecting the valve. “Are you flirting with me in apump shed?”
“Would you prefer I waited until we were somewhere classy? Like the barn?”
She was so calm. Socasual.
And she was watching me again—that slow, head-tilted look that stripped through skin and went for something deeper. Like she wanted to learn me the way she learned engines. System by system. Button by button.
I turned back to the pump. Focused. Sort of.
“I could get used to this,” she said behind me.
“To what?”
“Helping you. Fixing things. Getting my hands dirty.”
I adjusted the socket. “You’re just bored.”
“I’m not.”
Her voice dropped.
I straightened, slowly, and turned to face her.
The light caught her then—soft over her shoulders, shadows curling around her like a secret. The rolled sleeves. The grease smear on her cheekbone. The smirk that was slowly falling away, piece by piece.
“What are you really doing out here, Bellamy?”
My voice was low. Quieter than it should’ve been, considering the pressure coiling under my skin. I didn’t ask it like a joke. I asked like Ineededthe answer.
Her breath hitched—barely—but I caught it. The subtle shift of her ribs, the stillness that settled in her spine like she’d been caught mid-step.
And then?—
“I like how I feel around you,” she said.
Simple. Honest. Undeniable. The words hit like a gut punch. I took one step toward her. Just one. She didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. Just stood there, sweat-dampened curls falling loose around her face, eyes locked on mine like she wasn’t afraid of anything I’d do next.
“Say that again,” I said. My voice came out rougher than I meant, more need than command.
Her throat worked. She didn’t blink. “I like how I feel when I’m around you. Like… I’m not just surviving.”
Fuck.
Her words cracked something inside me wide open.
