Joker (Hell's Ankhor #8) - Aiden Bates Page 0,14

as good as gold to me, and Dawson always had my back as a friend, and my career was only growing. I was settled, happy, almost offensively fortunate.

I still wanted to share it with someone, though. It wasn’t that something was missing. But I had space. I had space in my life, and my heart, for someone else.

“How are things looking with the sign?” Priest asked. “Have you and Joker moved forward on that at all?”

My mood dropped like a rock. I hadn’t told Blade about Joker’s little tantrum yesterday, nor had I thought about other potential woodworkers. Part of me was still holding out hope that Joker would come around—because if he bailed, it’d reflect badly on my judgment. That was definitely the only reason.

With a sigh, I shook my head. “Seems like Joker’s had a change of heart,” I said. “We were talking about it yesterday, but he said was no longer interested in working with me.”

“Not in those exact words,” Dante added with a grimace.

“Well, it’s his choice,” I said. “We can discuss some other options for the sign.”

“What happened, Dante?” Blade asked.

Dante glanced at me, and then shrugged. “I only really saw him stand up and cause a bit of a scene at the bakery,” he said. “Nothing too out of character for him.”

Gunnar sighed. “Sounds like him. He can be a bit of an ass—guy’s got a temper—but he’s a good guy deep down.”

“Wouldn’t be in the club if he wasn’t,” Mal agreed with a nod.

“Did he give you any reason for leaving?” Blade asked.

I shook my head. “Nope. Honestly, it surprised me. I thought things were going well, but—something set him off. I don’t know what it was.”

Blade and Priest exchanged a look.

“He lashes out like that sometimes,” Priest said carefully. “Especially when he’s uncomfortable. I doubt it was anything you did.”

“He seemed excited about the opportunity to work on the sign,” Logan noted. “Doesn’t sit right with me that he’d just bail like that.”

Blade nodded and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Doesn’t sit right with me either. The club’s supposed to be a source of fulfillment for the members. If Joker’s not feeling supported, for some reason, I’m doing something wrong.”

I blinked, a little surprised. I’d expected Blade to push for details, or just move on to my suggestion of finding a different woodworker to make the sign. But whatever sense I’d gotten from Joker—that there was more to him than he admitted—Blade seemed to know it was there, too.

His leadership continued to impress me. It wasn’t what I’d expected from a motorcycle club when I’d first started working with them, but by now I’d gotten used to having my expectations overturned.

Maybe I should extend the same courtesy to Joker.

“He’s really good,” Logan said. “Have you seen all the toys he’s made Grace? He’s seriously got a gift. I think we should give him another chance.”

“Well, it’s not our call,” Blade said. He raised his eyebrows at me.

I raised my hands up in a sign of surrender. “It’s not my call, either. If he wants to work on it, I’m happy to help, but I can’t force him to do it.”

“Stubbornness runs in the family around here,” Logan said with a smirk.

“Why don’t you go talk to him?” Priest asked casually, but with a twinkle in his eye. I might be new to this group of people, but I got the sense that Priest knew a lot more than he let on. “I think he’s outside.”

The rest of the members nodded in agreement.

“I’d really like for him to work on the sign, if at all possible,” Blade said. “Seems like it’d be the right thing for him, and for the club.”

Well, if that’s what Blade wanted, that was enough incentive for me. And despite Joker’s asshole remark before he left Stella’s, I was curious to see how far his talent could take him. And I really, really wanted this contract to go all the way.

So I nodded. I left the plans on the kitchen island for the guys to keep reviewing and made my way out the back door and into the yard.

The backyard was empty and quiet, and the air was cool in the late afternoon. Joker was alone under the same big tree near the edge of the yard, leaning against it with his knees pulled up, whittling away at another hunk of wood. Even from where I was standing on the back porch, Joker was sexy—the curve of his thigh where