Joker (Hell's Ankhor #8) - Aiden Bates Page 0,39

deal.”

The silence hung thick and tense between us. I took a sip of my beer and fidgeted a little in my chair. What was there to talk about now? Clearly he wasn’t expecting to have to sit here and hang out with me, and I didn’t know how to apologize for the way I’d bolted from his house. Because, technically, there wasn’t anything for me to apologize for. I’d done it on purpose—done it to keep things casual between us. And yet the expression on his face now made me feel like I should apologize.

“Listen, Brennan—”

“We should—”

We caught eyes and both smiled, even if it was a little tentative. “You first,” Brennan said.

“I just…” I pressed my lips together. “I don’t want what happened to make things awkward between us.”

Brennan’s face fell a little, a brief frown pinching his expression before it was quickly smoothed away and replaced with a friendly smile. “Me neither,” he agreed. “We’re both adults. No need for this to change anything.”

“Right,” I said, relieved. Brennan was a professional—of course he wasn’t going to let my stupid mistake get in the way of such a big contract.

Relieved and yet part of me was still disappointed. Like maybe I’d hoped he’d push back a little.

I shook off the feeling. This was what I wanted, and it was for the best. “Great,” I said. “Because—I mean, I still want to be friendly. And get your help on the sign. Don’t need to make this job more complicated than it already is.”

Brennan raised his glass. “Cheers to that.”

I tapped my glass against his and we both took a sip. After that, conversation was easy. I didn’t pry into his history with Dawson, and he didn’t bring up the blowjob again. We just talked about the job, the club, Brennan’s business. It was easy to sit around and chat with him, and nearly an hour passed without me hardly noticing.

Even though he was still distractingly hot, it wasn’t clawing at me like it was before. I still wanted him, obviously, but more than I wanted to fuck him again, I wanted… I wanted him to like me. And respect me. Which was new for me. I was so used to being disrespected, ignored, or just leaning into my role as the club clown, that I’d forgotten how good it felt to be taken seriously. And I wanted to keep spending time with him, more than I wanted a quick forgettable fuck.

And I’d never really had both before—friendship and sex—not rolled together into one relationship. I wanted his friendship more than I wanted to sleep with him again. It shocked me even as I realized it. I could be okay with just being friends, if it meant I got to keep all this. How we could just sit and chat and be comfortable together.

“Oh, shit,” Brennan said, glancing at his watch. “Has it really been an hour?”

“Jeez,” I said. Time had slipped away in the conversation without me even realizing. “I guess so. Sorry, I gotta start cleaning up to close.”

“Yeah, and I’ve gotta work tomorrow, so I need to get home,” Brennan said. He stood up, and I did too, and suddenly the awkwardness was back. Because he was leaving, and I—I had the urge to lean forward and kiss him goodbye.

But that wasn’t how these things worked. I’d made my choice to be his friend, rather than keep hooking up with him, and I was going to be happy with it. I already got more from Brennan than I deserved.

After he left, I immediately went behind the bar and started cleaning up for close. Coop shot me a curious look, but I ignored it, and to my surprise, he didn’t press.

14

Brennan

Joker leaned over the workbench and tapped the chisel into the lettering with careful precision. The garage door was open despite the brisk chill in the air, and Joker was wearing a thick flannel and a beanie to combat it as he worked. The sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, showing off the corded muscle of his forearms. He looked so fucking good, I had to take a moment to lean against the doorframe and admire.

It’d been a few weeks since that conversation at Ballast, and like we’d said, we’d kept things friendly. Maybe not all the way professional, but definitely friendly. Joker had spent at least a few days a week in my workshop, and he was finally getting comfortable. He’d brought a small radio in, and