Joker (Hell's Ankhor #8) - Aiden Bates Page 0,40

the local rock station filtered through the air quietly; he hummed to himself as he worked.

And the work was going well. He was making good progress on the carving, nearing the end now as he carefully did the detail work. We’d lapsed into a comfortable, easy friendship—there was no denying the chemistry between us. He was so funny, and smart, and now that he was used to having me around, that acerbic edge had fallen away. And I was finally starting to understand why he lashed out when he did—when he felt ignored, or cornered. He couldn’t stand not having the answers, and he responded with vitriol. But his bouts of anger were like fireworks: sudden, and surprising, and then gone. It seemed reflexive. Some sort of old coping mechanism.

But he hadn’t been lashing out at me, not in the past few weeks. We’d had more than a few dinners together—some home-cooked by me, but mostly we ordered delivery and ate it in the workshop. And I was getting used to having him around. I’d given him the key code to the workshop’s garage door, and since then, we hadn’t really kept a schedule for when he’d be here to work. I kind of enjoyed the familiarity of it, and the surprise of not knowing if he’d be there or not when I got home from the clubhouse job site. The sight of his motorcycle parked outside my workshop always sent a little thrill through me.

But being friendly with Joker had only made me want him more. The more I got to know him, the more I wanted…

Wanted what?

Not just another brain-melting blowjob, though that’d be nice, too. But I wanted more of this. More dinners, more laughter, more coming home to Joker puttering around in my workshop.

Joker stood up straight and peered down at the carving, then dragged his fingers consideringly over the letters. He had such gorgeous, capable hands. I wanted him to touch me like that. To look at me with the same attention he looked at his carving.

“Hey,” I finally said, rapping my knuckles on the doorframe. “Busy?”

He finally pulled his attention away from the carving and glanced over his shoulder. When he saw me, a warm, genuine smile spread over his face. Something low in my gut clenched hard. He was so fucking gorgeous like this—in his element, unselfconscious, happy. I wanted to see him like this all the time.

“Finishing up for the day,” he said, then waved me over. “Come look.”

And he’d gotten so much more open with his work, too. I didn’t have to beg him to let me see how it was coming on. Now, it was like he was proud of his progress. I hurried to his side, resisting the urge to curl my arm around his waist as I looked over the sign.

It looked amazing. The carving itself was almost entirely finished; he was just finishing up some precise detail work. It read HELL’S ANKHOR CREW – EST 1984 in stylized, yet readable letters around the gorgeously detailed logo. The anchor with the ankh at the top sat in a bed of flames so intricate they looked like they might be hot to the touch, despite the lack of color.

“Wow,” I said, a little awed as I smoothed my palm over the design. “What else is there to do?”

“Sanding and staining,” Joker said with a nod. “I think I’m happy with the actual carving.”

“You should be,” I said. “It looks amazing. The guys are going to be floored.”

Joker sucked his teeth appraisingly. “I dunno about that.”

“What?” I knocked my shoulder against his. “You can’t be serious. Look at this thing!” I brandished my arms at the sign.

Joker sighed a little. “I mean, I think it looks good, but… What if they don’t like it? Or it’s not what they were expecting?”

He was obviously nervous about showing the final product to his brothers, despite the work he’d put into it. This wasn’t just a sign to him. That much I’d figured out. This was something more than that—like he was testing himself, in a way, seeing if he was capable of creating something real for his brothers, something they’d be proud of. I knew he was, but he didn’t believe in himself.

He’d proven himself to me, over and over, working on this sign. Showing me his dedication, his perseverance, his skill and focus on this project. But he didn’t see those qualities in himself. It wasn’t my place to tell him