Page 15 of Property of Blade (Kings of Anarchy MC: Alaska #1)

“We’ll have Scout and Mira here. You think Kyler’s gonna be good with that?” I ask, making it clear that it’s a concern. We need him on the same page if we’re going to get through winter without issues.

Vex taps the tabletop, his brow furrowed as he thinks it over. The tension is thick as he considers the weight of my words.

Finally, he looks up at me, sitting taller in his chair as if the thought of it has sharpened his focus. “I’ll get it done.”

I give him a nod, satisfied with the answer. “Good.”

Standing, I make my way toward the exit, heading for my bike parked outside. The cooler air hits me—winter isn’t far away.

Scout follows me out, his footsteps light as always. “Is there anything we should know about tonight?”

“Nah, usual folks, but with the way things are going lately, be on your toes. If you sense anything, if anything feels off, you get Vex and get the hell out. No hesitation.”

“You getting paranoid?” Scout asks, a playful glint in his eyes.

“It comes in threes,” I reply, my tone matter-of-fact as I check the bike one last time.

Scout raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “I didn’t know you were so superstitious.”

“I’m not,” I reply, not missing a beat. “Just learned that three’s the magic number for trouble around here.”

H annah has constantly been on my mind, but I’ve kept away even though all my instincts want me to go to her.

Even now, as I pull up to the intersection, if I turn left, it will take me to her house, but if I go right, I’ll go home.

Of course, I turn left and find myself parked in front of Hannah’s home.

The front door opens, and Grace streaks out and makes a beeline for me. She jumps up onto the bike and rubs her face on my chest, purring madly.

“Grace!”

“I’ve got her.”

Hannah runs out, hair up in a messy bun and green stuff on her face. She holds out her arms, and I hand over the gray fluff ball.

“Thanks,” she says, her voice softer, as she cradles the cat.

For a moment, we just stand there, and the silence feels comfortable. Too comfortable.

Clearing my throat, I point at her face and ask, “Is that edible?”

“Oh my God!” Hannah’s eyes go wide with shock as she bolts back inside, clutching her cat to her chest.

I can’t help but laugh as I follow her in, leaning against the doorway of the living room. “You look fine,” I shout, trying to reassure her.

“I do not!” she yells from the other room, and I can hear the embarrassment in her voice.

I chuckle and shut the front door behind me, walking toward the kitchen. “Do you want a tea?”

Hannah’s voice is tinged with disbelief. “You’re going to make me a tea in my own house?”

I raise an eyebrow and glance at the closed bathroom door. “If that’s okay.”

She pauses for a moment before replying, “Yes. I’ll only be a minute.”

On her coffee table in front of the couch is my knife and a block of wood.

Hannah is obviously carving it into something, but the shape isn’t clear.

There’s also a smaller knife, and it appears as though she’s using it for her whittling—mine is too big for her.

I move into the kitchen, already looking around for the kettle, when Grace trots into the room, weaving between my legs as if she owns the place.

“Weird cat,” I mutter, half-amused, as I step carefully to avoid tripping over her. Grace jumps up onto the kitchen counter as I’m filling the kettle with water. “Are you allowed on there?” I ask, eyeing the little troublemaker.

“No, she’s not.” Hannah’s voice is firm as she picks up Grace and places her on the floor. “And she knows she’s not. Don’t you, Grace?”

The cat meows, almost as if she’s protesting, but she doesn’t make a fuss. I watch as Hannah straightens up, her face pink, and I notice she’s brushed her hair. It’s now tied in a ponytail at the nape of her neck, a little more put together than when I first saw her.

I glance at the rows of tea lined up. “What sort of tea do you want?” There are so many to choose from I feel as though I’m making a life-altering decision here.

Hannah waves her hand, her voice soft but insistent. “Let me, you’re my guest.”

I raise an eyebrow and smile. “I guess I should’ve called first?”

“Well, I wouldn’t have looked so...” Hannah pauses, her face turning an even deeper shade of pink. “Frightening,” she finishes, giving me an awkward smile.

I chuckle, leaning against the counter. “Beautiful?”

She gives me a small, almost shy smile. “Not the word I was going for. More like... disheveled? Or homey? Or night of the living dead?”

I laugh, shaking my head. “I think I got it right.”

Hannah gives me a mock glare, but her smile tugs at her lips. “Go sit. Do you want to try a tea, or should I just make you a coffee?”

“Coffee.”

Moving toward the living room, my boots make too much noise on the floor as I try to shake off the unease building up. I settle down on the couch, leaning back a little too stiffly as if I’m trying to avoid sinking too deeply into her space. It’s too cozy. Too personal.

God, what the hell am I doing here? I should’ve called first. What was I thinking just showing up?

The last thing I want is to make her feel uncomfortable in her own home.

Glancing around the room, my eyes land on random things—the mismatched pillows on the couch, a stack of books on the coffee table, and a framed photo of her and Grace.

Nothing screams ‘company’ in here. It’s just her.

I run a hand through my hair, mentally berating myself.

What the hell is wrong with me? I should’ve stuck to the plan and kept it simple.

But no, here I am, sitting foolishly in the middle of her living room.

I’m not even sure if I’m supposed to act like a guest or someone else.

Whatever that means. I could’ve at least called first.

I glance toward the kitchen, where Hannah is busy with drinks.

It’s not as if I’m new to being around people.

Hell, I’ve been around people my entire life, but in very small doses.

Somehow, with Hannah, everything feels new.

With her, it feels as though I’m stepping into something different, something good.

Hannah sets my coffee on the table in front of me, her movements casual, but there’s something in her eyes that hints at curiosity.

She takes a seat at the other end of the couch, putting some space between us. “So, what brings you here?”

I take a deep breath, trying to calm the nerves suddenly swirling in my stomach. “You.”

She coughs, startled, almost choking on her tea as she looks at me wide-eyed. “Me?”

“Yeah,” I continue, my voice quieter now. “I was wondering if you’d like to get a meal?”

She raises an eyebrow, still looking at me as if I’ve sprouted another head. “Dinner?”

I lean forward slightly, reaching for the coffee she made. “Yeah, dinner.”

Hannah crosses her arms, her lips pressed into a slight frown. “What makes you think I don’t already have plans?”

Now it’s my turn to choke on the coffee, not quite expecting the question. “Do you?”

She laughs lightly, shaking her head. “No, although most men do find me irresistible.”

I nod, trying to play it cool, taking another sip of my coffee, though I’m feeling a little out of my element. “I can see why.”

Hannah’s eyes twinkle with mischief, but then she quickly adds, “I’m kidding. That was a joke.”

I stare at her for a moment, trying to catch the shift in her energy.

There’s a hint of uncertainty there, something beneath the humor. “I meant it when I said you were beautiful.”

She waves a hand dismissively, though I can see the faintest blush creeping across her cheeks. “I’ve been meaning to ring you and thank you for the flowers.”

“What flowers?” I ask, genuinely confused.

“The ones on my dining table.” She tilts her head, giving me a look that says she’s waiting for an explanation.

I shake my head, my brow furrowing. “I didn’t send you flowers.”

Her face clouds over, and without another word, she stands abruptly. I watch her as she walks to the flowers on the dining table, her movements sharp and purposeful. She picks them up, opens the trash bin, and drops them inside with a soft thud.

“Of course, you didn’t send me flowers,” she mutters, almost to herself.

“Why would I think they were from you? No, you just drop in after five days.” She turns toward me, hands planted firmly on her hips, and her eyes are now sharp and challenging.

“Why haven’t you phoned me? Didn’t you have a good time? I had a good time.”

I slowly put the coffee cup down, my throat tightening as I stand. There’s something in the way she’s looking at me as if she’s trying to get under my skin. And dammit, it’s working.

“I’ve had work, and I did have a good time. It’s why I’m here. And who’s sending you flowers?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady, though the annoyance about the flowers creeps in.

Hannah shrugs, the frustration clear on her face. “They’re probably from Travis, but I was hoping he’d left town.”

“The ex,” I state, the words flat but heavy.

She lets out a bitter laugh, rolling her eyes. “He’s nothing if not persistent.”

I clench my jaw. The idea of that guy still hanging around, sending her flowers, makes my blood boil more than it should.

“So, dinner?” The words come out more harshly than I intend, and I immediately regret it, but it’s already out there.

I need to deal with Travis. I can’t stand the thought of him lingering in her life any longer. It’s time I set things straight with him.

Hannah looks away for a moment, her eyes flicking to the floor before meeting mine again. “I don’t feel like going out.”

A sudden pressure builds in my chest. My inner voice gets louder, sharper. You need to make sure she’s taken care of. Showing up and getting her dinner is one way of doing it.

Ignoring my inner voice, I fight it down but can’t stop the words that come out next. “I could get takeout?”

She raises an eyebrow, considering it. “Or I could cook?”