Joker (Hell's Ankhor #8) - Aiden Bates Page 0,31

was nerve-wracking to let someone else see it this early in the process, but I wanted to include Brennan. Since this was his shop, and his tools. And I wanted to keep building some sort of connection between us, even if it was just as coworkers.

The disappointed expression fell from Brennan’s face. His eyes widened and his mouth dropped open as he ran both hands over the surface of the wood. In the center of the slab, I’d nearly completed the first stage of the Hell’s Ankhor Crew logo: the immense anchor with an ankh at the top, resting on an elegant bed of flames. The outline was all there, I simply had to go back and add in the details, deepening the carving to give the logo depth. Once that was finished, I’d go back and add the letters. If there was one thing I could confidently spell, it was my club’s name.

“Holy shit,” Brennan said. “You did all this today?”

He sounded astonished. It surprised me, and warmed me a little. Maybe I was better at this than I thought. “Well, yeah,” I said. “I got a little wrapped up in it.”

“This is amazing,” Brennan said. He turned and met my eyes. “Seriously. It looks amazing.” He ran his hand over the design again. “I can’t believe this is your first try at carving something this size. This looks seriously professional.”

I bit my lip. This wasn’t just a quick hit of attention due to my jokes, and it wasn’t pressure-ridden support for my ideas, or casual interest in my idle hobby whittling. Brennan was actually impressed by my carving. By something I’d done. And the rush of happiness that sent through me overwhelmed me.

And I wanted to keep feeling this way. I wanted to keep proving Brennan right—keep showing him what I could do. Because for the first time, I did feel capable. Like I really could do this.

“Actually,” I said, “I don’t really have to be back at the clubhouse right away.”

Brennan looked up at me again, and his expression brightened.

“If the offer still stands,” I said a little awkwardly. “To eat. I could eat. With you.”

With a slow smile, Brennan nodded. “Course it still stands.” He straightened up and gripped me by the shoulder again, giving me a firm squeeze. And this time his touch lingered. His green eyes traveled over my face, lingering on my mouth. “Come on. I’ll show you my place.”

It was just dinner, I told myself. And if it started to lead to something more, well… I was used to thinking on my feet. Maybe this would all be a little easier if we just got it out of our systems.

Either way, though, I got to spend time with Brennan. And that, weirdly enough, was what I wanted most.

12

Brennan

I flipped the steaks in the cast-iron pan, enjoying the familiar hiss as the heat seared the edges. I didn’t have anything fancy planned, just steak and potatoes, but Joker hadn’t seemed disappointed at all. And my place wasn’t too fancy either. I’d done a lot of the work on it myself, with the help of my crew, but it was definitely more function than beauty. It was a big, open floor plan, two levels, with a small kitchen and a big, warm living space.

My bedroom and the spare were upstairs, though admittedly I didn’t have many guests around to use it. My business took up so much of my time, the only people I spent a lot of time with, other than my employees, clients, and now the Hell’s Ankhor Crew, were my folks. No one really came over to my house, except Dawson, and even that was rare.

I had space. The thought bubbled up again, taking on even more meaning. It was too big of a house for just me. It was too quiet in the mornings, and too empty at night. Maybe a dog would help.

But a dog wouldn’t really patch the ache in my chest. Even if it felt foolish to want it so badly, when I already had such a good life—I couldn’t help but wish I had someone to wake up next to. To make coffee and pancakes for, to have quiet conversations late at night with.

I pushed that familiar old yearning aside. Joker seemed impressed by my place, especially when he found out I’d worked on it, and now he even looked comfortable. He was finishing up the potatoes, tossing them in olive oil and salt in a