Dem leaned back against the kitchen counter and listened to Gideon and Harper upstairs. Harper giggled, and he smiled at Gideon's answering laugh. Those two were like the perfect couple. They had the relationship he'd always wanted, very much like his parents. They doted on each other. He rarely came in from work and didn't see Gideon and Harper cuddled up, kissing or sometimes just holding hands.

He loved his friends, but they made him feel inadequate, something he'd never experienced before. His love life hadn't ever been what he'd wanted it to be. His boyfriends were always too serious and never affectionate with him.

Groaning, he let his head fall back and realized Jackson was—no, there was something about the man. He even liked Jackson's bluntness. He sensed Jackson's life was horrific, a lot more than people knew. The man's nervous tics, the anxiousness that caused Jackson to rub Killer's ears when he was uneasy. It was kind of cute how he used his puppy as a security blanket.

Now he sounded like an asshole. He'd learned a few things. Jackson didn't like to be teased. Touching was completely off limits.

Touch was important for developing intimacy, but it was dead as an option.

How was he going to get Jackson's attention?

The man was immune to his immeasurable charm. He knew a lot of men didn't want to date a partner with a disability. Although he'd never let that get him down, it still sucked when men liked him just fine when he was sitting, but his arm crutches turned them off. Sometimes he thought the only reason his ex dated him was to keep him around as a chef. His name had drawn customers over the five years he'd worked at Aiden’s place.

He raised one hand to run his fingers through his long hair, the waves tangled around his fingers. He considered himself handsome, not the best looking, and at almost forty, he still had a youthful face. His upper body was powerful, but his legs had withered over the last few years. He made sure he worked enough to keep them strong enough to bear his weight although, he didn't know how much longer that would be. His days were numbered in the kitchen. He knew he'd work out a way, he always did; he just wasn't ready to have to adapt again, yet.

For now, all he wanted was a chance with Jackson. One date, hell, he'd settle for one conversation—just a chance to listen to the gruffness of his voice. He swore the man could make anything sound dirty.

He reached for his phone on the counter behind him. He scrolled through his contacts and found Jackson's number. So he may have searched Gideon's phone for Jackson's contact information. Could stalker be added to his experience list on his resume? He slipped his arm crutches back on his forearms and made his way to the downstairs bedroom they'd given him.

He flopped onto the bed and connected the call, he listened to the rings. After the fifth one, he was about to hang up.

“What,” Jackson barked in his ear.

“You have charming phone etiquette, Jackson.”

He moved his crutches to lean them against the nightstand as he shifted to get comfortable.

“Who the fuck is this?”

“Dem. I wanted to make sure you ate.”

“You called me at ten at night to make sure I ate breakfast?”

Jackson’s tone conveyed clearly the man thought him insane. It was like banging his head against the wall repeatedly and expecting to get a different result on the next crash. All he was going to end up with was a migraine.

“Yeah, so?”

“Bored, city boy?”

He smiled, Jackson hadn't hung up on him...yet. It had to be a good sign.

“No, not bored. Is there something wrong with me checking on you?”

“Get in trouble for closing shop?”

Not the subtlest change of subject.

“No, apparently you're one of Heidi's best customers, but you're in trouble for wasting my morning masterpiece.”

“Bullshit.”

“So when can I take you out on a date?”

There was silence, he held his breath and waited, he pulled his phone away from his ear to check to make sure Jackson didn't hang up on him.

“Never.”

“What are you doing now?”

“In bed.”

Don’t say anything inappropriate, don’t say it. He bit the inside of his cheek. Being subtle wasn’t in his nature, but he sensed Jackson need a lighter hand. Jackson didn’t like being pushed or teased, he didn’t like touch. This was going to be a nightmare trying to get his man. And no matter what Jackson thought, Jackson was his.

“Early day tomorrow?”

“Sorta, I gotta handle a few things tomorrow.”

“Mysterious, I love that in a man.”

He smiled at Jackson’s huff but suppressed his need to laugh. Frustrating Jackson was going to become his favorite pastime.

“You’re fucking annoying.”

“I thought your name was Jackson and we ain’t—”

“What is wrong with you? I swear if you’re desperate for some dick there’s plenty of it out at Brawlers. You could have your pick.”

“I don’t just want just someone’s dick, Jackson, only a very particular—”

“You’re not getting mine.”

“How do you know? One date, Jackson, come on, you might actually have fun. I’ve been told I’m great company.”

“I’ll pick you on my bike Friday, be ready by 8, if you’re late I pull away.”

“O—” The other end of the conversation went silent, and he looked at his phone, Jackson had hung up on him. What the fuck, not a good night or anything. Damn man, then it registered, he had a date with Jackson. Unholy fuck, he had a date. He fist pumped the air and rolled from bed, and grabbed his crutches, and he moved as fast as they allowed.

“Gideon, I have a date, he said yes,” he yelled as he moved through the house.

“What the fuck are you yelling about?” A shirtless Gideon appeared around the corner.

“He said yes, well, not yes, he told me to be ready Friday night, but I did ask him when we’d go on a date, so technically he said yes!”

“Who said yes?” Harper popped from behind Gideon.

“Jackson, he told me to be ready at eight, he’d be here on his…oh shit, he said bike. I can’t ride a bike.” He plopped down on the arm of the couch dejected.

He’d seen Gideon take Harper out plenty of times. She rested her feet on the pegs, but his legs weren’t strong enough to keep them up that long. He tended to shift a lot to get comfortable. A motorcycle seat definitely wouldn’t allow for that.

“I’m sure if you call him back, he’ll bring his truck.”

Harper was sweet, and he understood what Gideon saw in her.

“No, I don’t…I’ll figure something out.”

“Dem, Joker’s a bit of an asshole, but I’m sure if you just tell him you can’t, then he’d figure something out.” Harper smiled at him.

“He said he had an early day, I’ll see about talking to him when he comes in for breakfast Monday.”

“Hey, look at it like this, he said yes, and that’s big. Joker doesn’t volunteer to spend time with anyone and riding his bike gives you his back. That’s unheard of.”

He knew Harper was being nice and trying to cheer him up, but it just wasn’t working.

“Why doesn’t—”

“Um, how much have you heard about Joker,” Gideon asked.

“Not much, no one really talks about him, why?”

“I’m just going to say this, Joker barely made it out of his teens with his sanity intact. Just take it easy, don’t push him too much, and only touch him if he touches you first. And whatever you do, don’t come up behind him without announcing it.”

They kept telling him that, but wouldn’t tell him why. He just wanted to know what he was up against. He hated feeling like this. His life hadn’t been easy with a disability, but he’d worked with it, adapted to make his dreams come true. It was the first time he felt at a loss as to what to do.

“I better go to bed.”

“Dem,” Gideon said his name.

“It’s fine, I’ll figure something out, I always do.”

He pushed up on his crutches and headed to bed. He’d always wanted to ride a motorcycle, he’d do it, but first, he had to talk to Jackson. He just hoped the man understood. Being reminded of his limitations pissed him off, yet it wouldn’t last long—he hoped.