Joker (Hell's Ankhor #8) - Aiden Bates Page 0,10

know we weren’t together? I wanted him to be comfortable working with me, but I also didn’t want him to think there was anything lingering between Dawson and me. It was unprofessional. That was all.

Right. Professional.

“You make a habit of banging your coworkers?” Joker asked with a sneer somewhere between judgmental and flirtatious.

“No,” I said sternly, “I don’t. And we’re coworkers now, so that makes you safe from any advances.”

“Fat chance I’d be interested,” Joker said with an eyeroll. “I have taste.”

I turned my attention back to the plans spread on the table in front of us. I wasn’t going to play this game with Joker anymore—I’d already learned the best way to handle him was to ignore his little quips, and I intended to keep doing that. If this sign plan was going to work, we needed to maintain a professional relationship. And it was obvious that I was the one who’d have to hold those boundaries.

Sure, I thought he was hot. And he was wearing that fucking cologne again that made my brain short-circuit. But luckily, the smell of the coffee and the bread in the bakery helped overwhelm it, so I could focus. I only got whiffs when he leaned over the table to peer curiously—or with confusion?—at the plans we had laid out.

And that’s why we were here: to discuss the sign. I sure as hell wasn’t going to let my rocky relationship with Joker affect my contract with Hell’s Ankhor Crew. This contract was going to define my business, and I was determined to make sure it went off without a hitch.

“All right,” I said. “Let’s get down to it.”

5

Joker

I leaned back in my chair and took a sip of my coffee, glancing between Dawson and Brennan. They appeared to be having some sort of unspoken conversation with their eyes, and it irritated me. Dawson was handsome—not as handsome as Brennan, he was a little leaner, but still good-looking in a rough, tousled kind of way. And it fucking annoyed me that he used to sleep with Brennan. There wasn’t any reason for me to feel like that. It wasn’t jealousy. He was just being really childish, holding their past out like it was something to be proud of. Something he really wanted me to know about. And I just didn’t like the thought of them together, no matter how long ago it was.

I pushed that thought from my mind. Why was I so concerned about their relationship, anyway? It had nothing to do with me. I needed to focus on what was actually important right now: this crazy project that I’d for some insane reason agreed to do. This sign thing had to work. It had to. I’d committed to doing it, in front of Blade, Priest, and Mal, and I wasn’t going to fail them.

“So,” Brennan said.

“So,” I echoed, and crossed my arms over my chest.

“What are you thinking?” Brennan asked.

“Me? This was your idea,” I snapped.

Brennan sighed and straightened up the papers scattered across the table. “Look, if you don’t want to do this, just say that. I know plenty of woodworkers I can refer Blade to.”

“What? No way,” I said immediately.

Brennan and Dawson both raised their eyebrows at my sudden outburst. I sighed and scrubbed my hand roughly over the crown of my head. Brennan was a nice guy, really, and he’d set up this meeting so we could work together on the sign. Since there was no way in hell I’d be able to pull it off without his help. And right now, it was looking like my own issues were going to drive him away before I even got a chance to fuck up the sign myself.

“I want to do it,” I admitted. “I like working with wood, and I want—I want to do this for my club. But I ain’t never tackled a project this big.” I exhaled hard through my nose and gathered my thoughts. “I just whittle for fun. I’m no artist.”

Tension bled out of Brennan’s shoulders. He propped one elbow on the table and watched me curiously, his green eyes traveling over my face. “You’re afraid to let them down.”

“Well, yeah, of course I am.” I took a sip of my coffee, hiding behind the mug a little.

Brennan nodded, and watched me like he was expecting me to say more. There was nothing more to say, though—I’d already admitted a lot more than I’d planned to. Something about his green eyes made my brain-to-mouth-filter stop