"Fuck, Hunter. You're gonna make me look bad with all these mock-ups." Dean steps into my suite. He leans against the wall, the picture of cool, and motions to my sketchbook.

"That's the goal," I tease.

It's funny.

Dean is the same as he always was. Nobody can make him look bad. He's built like a water polo player, he aces the laid back surfer boy vibe, and, well…

He makes himself look plenty bad.

He wants everyone to know he's obnoxious.

"You gonna show me this cool shit, or what?" Again, he motions to my sketchbook. Adds a give it.

My shoulders tense reflexively.

When I was wasted all the time, it was easy for me to share my work. Because that's all it was. Work.

I didn't pour my soul onto the page.

My drawings were plenty good. I captured what clients wanted.

I was a competent craftsman.

But that was it.

I'm not used to baring my soul.

Or sharing it.

I try to make my voice casual. Get halfway there. "You don't get enough of giving feedback with your shadow?"

"She's not here."

"I'm sloppy seconds?"

"Of course."

I hand over the notebook. Suck a breath through my nose. Exhale slowly.

This is a good sign. He's trying to help me out. Showing camaraderie.

He wants me here.

Yeah, my drawings show what a mess my head is, but—

I study his expression as he takes in the work.

He nods, digging it.

"Fuck, this is some moody shit." He flips backward, working his way past the last few days of drawings. "Exactly what I'd expect from you." He stops on an In Memoriam. Shaded roses surround a nameless tombstone. "This for anyone in particular?"

"It was," I lie. "A client who got cold feet."

"Shit. Send it to her."

"No."

He looks back to me. "Is it for a woman?"

"Yeah. Why do you ask?"

"Has that look."

"You wouldn't get roses?"

He pulls his t-shirt up his stomach to show off a side tattoo. Roses outlined by the state of California. "Most guys aren't secure enough in their masculinity for that shit."

"You know there isn't anyone here to gawk at your bod," Emma calls from the counter.

"What about you, Em?" He turns to her and pats his stomach. "Look me in the eyes and tell me you don't enjoy the view."

She shakes her head, but she can't hide the smile spreading over her lips.

He's fucking with her.

He's obviously into Chloe.

With Chloe even—nobody tells me shit about what's going on.

But my stomach still twists.

Fuck, I need to get over this.

Emma is gorgeous, sharp, and charming.

She's also off limits.

We're friends, at best.

I need to prove that to her. And myself.

Our double date is a necessary evil.

She needs to believe I'm not interested.

"She's always playing coy. That's our thing. Right, Em?" He winks as he lifts his t-shirt a little higher.

She makes a show of rolling her eyes.

Dean turns back to me. "You can try the same thing."

"Subject Emma to my stripping?" I ask.

"Yeah. She'll be into it." He winks again. "I see you checking Hunter out. It's only when I'm not there to soothe your lust for eye candy."

She laughs. "How do you know if you aren't there?"

"I'm always here." He draws a circle around the room. "I'm everywhere, all the time."

"Uh-huh." She shakes her head you're ridiculous. "Hunter is like Brendon. Doesn't want to do anything to disgrace himself."

"Disgrace himself?" Dean pats his stomach. "With that bod? I don't think so."

"True." She presses her palm into the counter to fight her blush.

Her nails are pink today.

A pale pink that nearly blends into her skin.

It's subtle, quiet, completely unlike her.

Or maybe I don't know shit about her.

A few dinners and an entire season of Daredevil don't make us best friends.

Only…

Fuck, at this point, this is the closest relationship I have.

"Girl needs a show." Dean shakes his head. "And you're gonna leave her high and dry. That's disgraceful."

Emma laughs.

"Unless. You got some sort of embarrassing tattoo I should know about?" Dean holds his hand over his mouth to stage whisper. "It can be our secret?"

I shake my head. Stripping for attention has never been my thing, but modesty isn't what's keeping my clothes on.

It's my inability to handle Emma's stare.

Whenever I catch her looking—

Fuck.

My balls tighten at the thought of her attention.

"You're a party girl." Dean turns to Emma.

"I am?" She raises a brow. "Since when?"

"Not 'cause you're—" He brings his hands to his hips to mime thrusting into someone.

I have to hand it to Dean.

He doesn't half-ass shit.

He's all in, all the time.

Emma bursts into laughter. "Glad to know I'm not too slutty for you."

"Em, please. You're nowhere near my record," he says.

"Which is?" she asks.

"You think I can count that high?"

"I think you're over-compensating because you don't want me to realize how much you love your girlfriend," she says.

"Why would I hide that?" he asks.

"You should ask a shrink that," she says.

He chuckles. Brushes it off. "Not sex and drugs party. An actual party. You threw one for Kaylee's birthday."

"So?" she asks.

"Hunter's birthday is coming up," he says.

"Oh yeah." Her eyes light up. "It is."

"So. Party time." He motions let's go.

"Okay, sure. Any other demands you want me to follow? You know I live and die to satisfy your whims." She rolls her eyes.

"What was that? I hear satisfy you." He winks at her. "If you're in for an exciting—"

"Thirty seconds," Ryan calls from his suite.

"That's a compliment, you know." He blows Emma a kiss. "That's how badly I want you."

She makes a show of dodging it. "Only if you finish the job after."

"After?" He shakes his head. "First."

"Always?" she asks.

"Of course." He nudges me. "Am I right, Keating?"

"Yeah." My jaw cricks. He's not actually offering to fuck Emma, but the thought still finds its way into my head.

"Fuck. Nobody wants to hear about your dick," Ryan says.

"He hasn't even started with the piercing talk yet." Emma laughs.

I turn to her and raise a brow.

She nods.

"Why?" I ask.

"Why not?" he asks.

"Fuck. Ow." And I thought getting sober was painful.

"Yeah, but now he has an extra excuse to bring up his dick thirty times a day. It really worked out for him," Emma says.

"Went six weeks without fucking anyone," Dean says.

"That's not that long," Emma says.

"Even myself."

"Still…" She folds her arms. "I could do that blindfolded with my hands tied behind my back."

"Oh shit, you're into that too?" he teases.

She sticks her tongue out. "Hell no."

"Never?" I ask.

"Never what?" Her eyes find mine.

"You've never wanted a guy to tie you up?" I ask.

The teasing drops from her voice. "I'd rather be in control."

"What is it with you Kanes?" Her brother's reputation for tying women up is legendary. As is his girlfriend's interest in being tied up. "Always with the kinky shit."

Ryan steps into my suite and motions for Dean to shut up. "How much is my brother fucking with you?"

Dean blows Ryan a kiss. "I love you too."

"He's fine." Truth be told, I like Dean's obnoxious jokes.

He gives me shit.

But most of his attention is on his apprentice. And most of mine—

Emma is right there. Behind the counter. Studying. Or pretending to study. Wearing a tight white blouse that hugs her tits just so.

"Poor Chloe." Emma looks up from her text book. "She takes all of Dean's shit now."

Dean steps into the main room and shoots Emma a megawatt smile. "Don't tell me you're jealous."

"Of you and Chloe?" Emma laughs. "In some parallel universe where I want you?"

"I see the way you look at me, Em. You don't have to admit it to these idiots." He places his finger over his mouth our secret. "I know what you're after."

"Uh-huh."

He winks.

"God, I can't believe I actually bought Kaylee's story about hooking up with you." She shakes her head, sending strands of chestnut hair in every direction.

"Em, baby, you have no idea how good my fake sex with Kay was." He fans himself. "You know I've got a cock piercing."

Emma laughs knowingly. "We were only talking about it thirty seconds ago."

Dean looks back to me. "You believe this shit? Striking out."

"Yeah. 'Cause it's not obvious you and Chloe are—"

Dean motions to Ryan.

Emma laughs. "You realize we all know you're together?"

Dean motions to me. "Not Keating."

"Welcome to the club, Hunter," Emma says. "How does it feel, being in the know?"

"Good." My eyes find hers.

Her cheeks flush.

Ryan chuckles as he surveys the empty room. "What the fuck are all three of us doing here when it's this dead?"

"Hunter works for a percentage and you two own the shop. I'm the only one here who gets a salary," Emma says. "Why aren't you off with Chloe?"

"What makes you think she wants anything to do with me?" Dean asks.

"Good body." Emma laughs. "What else?"

Ryan pulls out his cell. Smiles at the notification—no doubt a text from his girlfriend. "I got an hour to my next appointment. Can I trust you two not to burn the place down?"

"No." Emma points to us. "Look at them. Miscreants."

Dean nods it's true.

Ryan's chuckle is hearty. He pretends like he hates his brother, but his affection is clear as day. "You're doing good shit, Hunter. Really. Think about if you'd want to say."

"Sure." I slide my hand into my front pocket.

It's a great offer. Exactly what I need.

Yeah, I'd rather work at Blacklist, but I can't afford to wait until Chase lets go of this grudge.

I need a job now.

I need a job here.

Which means I'm staying on Brendon's good side.

I'm keeping my hands off Emma.

Whatever it takes.