Joker (Hell's Ankhor #8) - Aiden Bates Page 0,9

my fingers on the table. “But you can handle the bulk of that, right?”

Dawson nodded. “Yeah, with a few guys, shouldn’t be a problem.”

“We’ll start as a split team, then,” I said. “You can tackle finishing up Beau’s, and I’ll start doing some demo on the clubhouse. We’ll want to do it in stages, anyway, don’t want the entire clubhouse to be unusable at the same time.”

“Sounds good,” Dawson agreed. “And the cabins?”

“They’re not fully confirmed, but I don’t see Blade backing out, honestly,” I said. “But I’ll want the whole crew for those. So that’ll be last, once Beau’s is complete, and the interior renovations are completed.” I paused. “Oh, and there’s the sign they want mounted, too.”

“Right, the sign,” Dawson said. “How’s that going to work? You said Joker’s helping out?”

I nodded. “Yeah, I’ll probably let him use my workshop.”

“Oh, so he’s a real amateur. Doesn’t even have the space to do it?” Dawson peered at me suspiciously. “This isn’t another one of your projects, is it?”

“What?” I asked a little defensively. “The guy’s talented, even if he’s not doing it professionally. Plus, this way we won’t have to outsource the work. Better profit margin for us.”

That part was true, but it wasn’t the reason why I’d suggested that Joker carve the sign, and from Dawson’s eyeroll, it was clear he knew that. At this point in our friendship, Dawson knew me nearly as well as I knew myself. We’d met in our early twenties, when I’d first hired him, and being reckless young adults, we’d started dating, too. It hadn’t lasted long—just a few months, as it quickly became clear we were a lot better as friends than lovers. In the intervening years, Dawson had held my hand through a couple of rough breakups—always with guys who had obvious issues. He didn’t trust my taste anymore, that much was for sure.

And I couldn’t blame him. I hadn’t been in a relationship in over a year, and I’d promised him that my next one would be with someone normal—whatever that meant.

But I couldn’t get Joker out of my head. When he’d pinned me with that look on the back porch, just after he’d agreed to work on the sign, a thrill had run through me. He’d looked determined. Maybe a little unsure, but determined nonetheless. I’d expected him to blow me off with some sort of jab or eye-rolling comment. Instead, he’d taken it seriously.

I couldn’t get a read on him—I never knew if he was going to be a tetchy asshole, or give me a hint of some other side to his personality he didn’t usually reveal, the sweet, charming softy who seemed to be lurking somewhere deep down. The mystery was so intoxicating. I knew it was pointless, but I couldn’t help my curiosity. What made him tick?

“I knew it,” Dawson said. “You like the guy.”

“I do not,” I denied sharply. “I just know talent when I see it, and it’s not like people are clamoring to get into woodworking these days. I’m trying to support the field.”

“You jackass,” Dawson said with a laugh. “Quit talking shit and admit it. He’s just your type. Hot, cranky, and a total dick. I’m not helping you if you get burned again.”

“I’m not getting burned,” I said. “I’m not getting involved.”

“Sure,” Dawson said sarcastically. “You always find some way to fall for the wrong guy.”

“Yeah, obviously, considering I fell for you,” I teased back.

Dawson kicked me under the table, frowning dramatically.

“Whoa,” Joker said, shocked. “You two are together?”

I winced and looked up. The bakery was bustling with activity, and we were so wrapped up in our conversation that I hadn’t heard Joker walk in and approach our table. He stood a little behind me, hip cocked, coffee in one hand and the other tucked into the pocket of his leather jacket. He was ten minutes early to the meeting we’d planned. I’d expected him to be late.

“We definitely are not,” I said.

Something in Joker’s expression eased a little bit.

Dawson glanced between us. “But we used to be,” he said with a smirk. “Biblically. Carnally.”

“Please,” I said with another cringe. “This is a business meeting.”

“What?” Dawson asked. “I’m just being honest.”

Joker sat down at the head of the communal table, between us, still looking a little unsure.

“It’s been almost a decade since we were together,” I explained to Joker.

“Seven years is not nearly a decade,” Dawson said. “That makes me feel old.”

Why was it so important to me that Joker