Tex (Hell's Ankhor #5) - Aiden Bates Page 0,40

His lips were slightly parted and his tongue darted out to wet his lower lip almost unconsciously.

I flexed my hands at my sides, and his gaze darted to track the motion, and then back up to my face.

“Thanks, Jazz.” Tex’s voice was a low rumble in his chest.

Despite the torch I’d been carrying for Tex for all these years, I wasn’t inexperienced. I knew what it meant when a guy looked at me like that from across the room. It meant he wanted me.

But this expression couldn’t mean that on Tex’s face. Because Tex was straight.

It was like my body responded without my permission, though, under such a predatory look. I lifted my chin a little, squared my shoulders, and tilted my head to the side: simultaneously a challenge and an invitation.

Tex exhaled hard through his nose.

Then a sudden, sharp knock on the door, so shocking it may as well have been gunshot.

“Hey, Jazz? You in there?” Heath asked through the door.

Tex jerked back, his expression like I’d flung a bucket of ice water at his face. He cleared his throat and grabbed his old hat off my bed.

“Thanks, Jazz.” His voice had lost some of that rich, dark quality. “I don’t deserve a friend like you.”

Friend. Right.

I chewed at my lower lip. “Damn right you don’t.”

Tex’s eyes flickered to my mouth, and then to the hat in his hands.

Half of me wanted to push him up against the wall and demand he tell me what the fuck he was thinking just now. The other half wanted to forget this ever happened, because if I was wrong—if I was misinterpreting—

Our friendship was my lifeline. I wasn’t going to risk it unless I was absolutely sure. More than sure. Beyond sure. I’d carry an unrequited love for Tex for the rest of my life before I’d do anything to drive him away.

Heath knocked on the door. “Jazz? Is Tex in there?”

I shoved past Tex and opened the door. Heath peered in, his brown eyes flickering between Tex and me curiously. “Sorry, am—am I interrupting something? Do you still have time to train?”

“Yeah, of course,” I said. I needed to work out some more aggression anyway, the burn of the weight lifting long gone.

“Cool hat.” Heath nodded appraisingly at Tex.

“It’s the same as his old one,” I said a little shortly. I was annoyed now—annoyed at myself for getting so worked up, annoyed at Tex for being suddenly so unreadable. Unreadable and hot.

I needed to get laid.

“It’s nicer than my old one,” Tex corrected.

Heath nodded in agreement.

“Come on,” I said. “Let’s train in the backyard.”

“Right.” Heath backed out of the doorway, making space, and I followed him. When Tex crossed the threshold and back into his own room, it’d be like this never happened. Back to normal.

And as much as I wanted—needed—it to be that way, for some reason that disappointed me. Just a little.

10

Tex

Friday nights at Ballast always got a little rowdy. It’d been three days since that weird afternoon in the gym with Jazz, and things had felt a little off between us since then. Again. Not bad, per se, just… Odd. I couldn’t quite place it. We’d always been rough with each other, affectionate, but Jazz was keeping a little more space between us now.

I could only assume it was part of his transition into his new enforcer role, that he didn’t want to be boxed into being seen as the other half of our little us-against-the-world unit. Having me knocking into him and tousling his hair—treating him like a little brother—wouldn’t exactly help the ‘capable enforcer’ image. And I totally got that.

I couldn’t help but miss it, just a little, though. Horsing around with him was comforting—a tactile reminder that he was still here. That he was mine, and he was back, and it wasn’t all a dream.

I raised my eyebrows at Coop, who was working the bar, and he slid me another beer. I was off-duty, but Jazz was lurking near the back door, on an enforcement shift.

He fit in easily, with his leather jacket tight across his shoulders and his thumbs hooked into his belt loops. He doesn’t make his presence known, not really, just lingers, and lets his eyes scan across the crowd for any issues that might need dealing with: fights, assault, or simple overindulgence.

Ballast was pretty full, even for a Friday—most of the club members were present, as well as some citizens from in town and a few riders from other nearby clubs.