meet them, too. But that’d be a long, awkward discussion that I wasn’t ready to have. So I pushed those desires down and focused on what was really important right now: Heather’s prim, serious reading voice.
I dropped onto the floor, giving Heather the stool as she cleared her throat and opened the book. “All right, so where were we…”
8
Brennan
I finally finished wiping down the big workbench in the center of my workshop and grimaced at the sawdust coating the floor. I loved my workshop, but admittedly I didn’t clean it quite as often as it needed. It was a small, functional space behind my home in Junee. I lived right outside of town with a little bit of land, enough for my workshop, the work truck, and all the tools I’d accumulated over the years of running my own business. It was the hub of my business—though if this contract led to more growth, maybe I’d finally get to lease a warehouse of my own.
I grinned at the thought as I gathered the broom and started to sweep up the sawdust. I leaned over and shoved the broom under my tool cart, trying to get all the dust and cobwebs that had accumulated over the years.
Then the door slammed open. “Yo!”
I made a noise that I wouldn’t personally call a squawk, but it was close. The broom clattered out of my hand and across the concrete floor.
“What the hell are you doing?” Dawson asked. He propped his elbows on the workbench and peered down at me on the floor, grinning at my reaction. That asshole knew I was easily startled, and he still refused to knock before he came in, because he got a kick out of watching me jump and flail around.
“Cleaning,” I grumbled, and kept sweeping, in spite of Dawson’s slightly judgmental, curious gaze.
I didn’t clean my shop often, that much was true. Trying to sweep the sawdust out of this place was like trying to stop a ship from flooding with a bucket. But Joker was coming today, and I wanted it to look nice. I wanted it to look like a place he’d want to work. Maybe I wanted him to be a little bit impressed, even.
I told myself it was because my shop was a representation of my business, and so it should look its best for the first impression. Even as I thought it, though, I knew it was more than that.
“What’s the occasion?” Dawson asked. He hopped up onto the bench and raised his eyebrows.
“It was dirty,” I said.
Dawson was very much not convinced. He crossed his arms over his chest and tilted his head.
“And—”
“There it is.”
“Joker’s coming by.” I admitted, and kept my attention carefully fixed on my growing pile of sawdust.
“Oh,” Dawson said. “Oh. Joker? Coming here? Why? He bailed on the sign project.”
“I met him at the Elkin Lake clubhouse earlier this week when we were going over the gym plans. We talked things out, and he agreed to come look at the space.”
“Why are you so obsessed with Joker being the one to carve this sign?” Dawson asked. “All he’s done so far is blow us off and be a total a dick. It’s only going to make this whole process a lot more complicated than it needs to be.”
“He’s not a dick,” I said immediately.
Dawson raised his eyebrows. “Oh? He’s not?”
I sucked my teeth. “He’s just—He’s going through some stuff, I think. It’s none of my business. But I think this’ll be good for him.”
“Oh, boy,” Dawson said.
“And us,” I added. “The club really wants him to be the one to carve it—if he actually does it, with my help, it’ll be good for our relationship with them. More contracts.”
“Right,” Dawson said with a teasing edge of sarcasm. “I’m just saying… This all sounds a little familiar.”
I sighed and ran one hand through my hair, then finally met Dawson’s warm gray eyes. I couldn’t really blame him for his reticence. He’d watched me gush over guys before who turned out to have all sorts of problems I thought I could fix, but couldn’t: drug problems, compulsive lying, garden-variety commitment issues… I tended to see the best in people, and Dawson had seen how that worked out for me.
“I’m not trying to save him, or whatever you call it,” I said.
“You sure?” Dawson asked.
“Yes,” I said. “It’s not even like that. We’re just working together.”
Dawson hopped off the workbench and grabbed the rarely used dustpan. “All right. I’ll give