Page 62 of Forged

He should, but that part of him that longed to be free rebelled at the idea. He shouldn’t have to give up everything he was and everything he wanted just to be with someone.

But who was he, really? And what did he want? He thought he had a quick, definitive answer to that question, but that winter had changed a lot of things. Being with Nick and seeing a different side of life, a side he never thought he’d see, had opened his perspective in a way nothing else had.

“So I don’t think it would be out of the question at all for you to include something in next month’s newsletter and to post a notice on the board,” Lloyd finished up his monologue, reaching for his teacup. “In fact, I believe many of our members would welcome a business like yours.”

“Thanks,” Bax said, taking the last biscuit from his plate and dipping it in his lukewarm tea. “I really appreciate this. Launching a business is always hard, but in this economy, it feels even harder.”

“There’s nothing particularly wrong with this economy,” Lloyd said, bristling a little. “It’s all a matter of care and perspective.”

Bax swallowed gingerly, regretting that he’d set Lloyd off on one of his favorite subjects. As liberal and progressive as most of The Brotherhood were, there were plenty of members, like Lloyd, who would support the Tories until they nailed their coffin closed.

He had just resigned himself to another fifteen minutes of nodding and humming as Lloyd explained why there was nothing really wrong with the economy when, of all people, Callum swooped in and plopped into the seat beside Bax.

“Hello, all,” Callum said with his usual cheer. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything. Only, I saw the two of you here and I simply had to join you. You look as though you’re having quite a jolly conversation.”

“I was just explaining to Baxter about how the British economy is as strong and vibrant as it’s ever been,” Lloyd said, suddenly stiff and pinched. Lloyd and Callum were about as opposite as people could be, and Lloyd clearly had no love lost for Callum. “If you will excuse me,” he said, placing his hands on the table then standing, “I see someone I need to chase for their membership dues.”

Bax’s stomach tightened with dread, not just because he was certain he’d be next in the dues hunt.

“Would it be terribly rude of me to say I’m not sad to see the back of him?” Callum asked, leaning closer, like they were conspiring. “It also gives me a better opportunity to catch up with you.”

He rested his hand on the table for a moment so close to Bax’s that they were almost touching. A heartbeat later, he reached for the teapot in the center of the table and poured tea into one of the cups set around in the empty places at the table.

The hair on the back of Bax’s neck stood up. Callum hadn’t wandered by randomly, and if he was a betting man, he would have said Callum wasn’t at The Chameleon Club that day by accident either.

“You’re staring at my hands, I know,” Callum said as he continued to fix his tea. “You’re wondering how someone who has been taking a blacksmithing class for the last month can still have such smooth hands.”

“I wasn’t, but now that you ask.” Internally, Bax winced. He should be shooing Callum away. He was taken. He was with Nick and they were happy.

But were they?

“The gloves your beau provides for us do a brilliant job of protecting my hands,” Callum said. “Frequent manicures take care of the rest.” He laughed as he stirred his tea.

“There’s nothing like a good manicure,” Bax said, hoping the comment was just generic enough to….

To what? Did he want to chase Callum away? Or did he want to talk business with the man, like he’d come to The Chameleon Club to do? Or were his motivations for not getting up and heading back to Hawthorne House darker than that?

“Your man has large, rough hands,” Callum went on, taking a biscuit from the plate in the middle of the table. His movements were tight and almost nervous. “I bet that’s nice.” He wiggled his eyebrows as he bit into the biscuit.

Bax shifted to face him more fully. “Is there something I can do for you, Callum?” he asked, worried about where the conversation was going.

Callum swallowed his biscuit, sipped his tea, then leaned closer to Bax to murmur, “I’m certain there are a lot of things you could do for me.”

Bax froze. A few months ago, that was the kind of joke he would have made. He would have absolutely taken Callum up on his flirting and flirted right back.

Now, though, it felt saccharine and inappropriate.

Callum put his teacup down and scooted even closer to Bax. “Look, I’ll be honest with you,” he said. “I signed up for the forging class in the hope that I would see you more often, that we could rekindle our old friendship.”

Bax wanted to shout, “I knew it!” He’d been suspicious of Callum from the start, and it turned out those suspicions were warranted. Instead of feeling flattered, he felt like he’d nabbed Callum with his hand in the biscuit jar.

“And?” he asked, prompting Callum to go on.

“And I really wish you’d come and join our coven,” Callum said, his expression one of exaggerated pleading. “We could really use a dedicated, creative, organized member like you. So many of the younger people who join covens these days aregoing through some sort of phase and aren’t really serious about practicing. But if they could see someone a bit closer to their age who takes the faith seriously and understands all its nuances, it would be life-changing for them.”

The words sounded pretty, but Bax was still suspicious. “A lot of younger people are searching for a faith system that aligns with their values more than traditional organized religions do,” he said uneasily.

“Precisely,” Callum said, planting his hand on Bax’s as it sat on the table.

---