The Job (Auctioned) by Cara Dee (highly illogical behavior txt) 📕

“Not on cash for—you know, this kinda shit. I still have my buffer. I just can’t afford a good place to live yet. I’m done with roach-infested apartments and shacks that are one Santa Ana wind away from fallin’ apart.” He folded his arms over his chest, visibly determined. “I want a nice house for Ace to grow up in.”

I couldn’t help but get defensive. “What’s wrong with the way I live? She has her own room. We go to the pool sometimes. I take her wherever she wants to go.”

“And your neighbor has a meth problem.”

“He moved out! He got arrested. He’s not there anymore.”

He rolled his eyes at me. “You know what I mean, Case. Don’t tell me you’re planning on spending the rest of your life at that trailer park. There’s a reason you haven’t sold off the gold bars from that stunt we pulled in Lake Tahoe six years ago. You’re saving up for something.”

Damn Mom for tattling.

I didn’t know exactly what I was saving for, only that college and houses were pricey.

“Ladies?” a suspicious voice asked behind us. “You’re not fighting, are you?”

We turned around and faced our daughter, and it was hard not to smirk at the little shit. She tried to look all demanding and ready to scold us, hands on her hips, eyebrow cocked.

“Does that sound like something we would do?” Boone walked over to her and quickly scooped her up, and without much difficulty, bunched up her dress to blow raspberries on her stomach. “Huh? Answer me, Aisley Paisley. Does that sound like something we would do?”

She wailed with laughter and tried fruitlessly to shove him away.

I checked my watch.

“Guys, we have an hour till dinner,” I said.

Ace gasped through a laugh while Boone continued his assault. “I wanna shop! I wanna go where they give you pretty—gah, stop it, Daddy! Pretty, pretty paper bags instead of plastic bags.”

She sounded like Ma. She felt special when she went to the outlet mall and they handed her whatever she’d bought in one of those boutique-type of bags instead.

“Then we should get going.” I walked past them and brushed my hand up Boone’s back. “Yo. Tickle monster. Let’s bounce.”

“All right.” He chuckled, out of breath, and helped her straighten her dress. “Lemme just put the beers and sodas in the fridge.”

I didn’t know he’d brought any, but I loved him for it. Fuck minibar prices.

A few minutes later, we were back in one of the elevators, and I got stuck on the reflection of us in the doors.

“Look at us,” I said. “We’re the best family.”

Ace grinned goofily and stuck out her tongue.

Boone draped an arm around my shoulders. “Damn right. Didn’t know you’d gotten fancy, though. Is that a real Armani belt?”

I looked down and adjusted the narrow buckle. “Fancy…?” I wasn’t sure a belt qualified as making someone fancy. “It’s my lucky belt for special occasions.” I flashed Ace a wink in the elevator door.

She beamed smugly.

“Special occasions,” Boone snorted. “I know what that means. For when you score on dates. It ain’t that nice.”

“What the fuck?” I scowled at him.

“Yeah, what the fudge, Dad!” Ace demanded and spun around on us. “It was a gift from Gramma. I helped her pick it out!”

He’d for sure stepped in a big pile of shit now. But I suddenly had a greater concern, and it took no effort to ignore Boone’s wince of regret.

“Since when do you say fudge?” I asked Ace, baffled and, to be honest, a little worried. We weren’t the type of family that kiddified words.

Ace didn’t struggle with the swift topic change, and she walked out of the elevator backward as soon as the doors opened. “I just felt like I’d reached my quota for the day. That’s what Gramma says sometimes. It means there’s a pacific number of times you can curse every day.”

“Hear that, Boone?” I nudged him with my elbow. “There’s a pacific number.”

“Well, I don’t wanna know it.” He planted his hands on Ace’s shoulders and turned her around. “Let’s get this little dollface some overpriced shit that comes in a nice bag.”

“If you admit that Daddy’s belt is pretty,” Ace said.

I quirked a brow at Boone, waiting.

“It’s very pretty,” he conceded. “I was just fuckin’ with him.”

No, he hadn’t been.

Seven

“You ever wonder why we never bother inviting you to parties and clubs anymore?” Jay asked.

I finished my whiskey and nodded at the bartender. Time to close my tab. “Not really.”

Jay sighed and slid off his barstool. “I’ll tell you anyway. It’s because you’re dead. Think about that while you pay for my beer. I gotta take a piss.”

I scowled at his retreating form, then reached into my back pocket for my wallet.

Maybe I was dead. Today, it certainly felt like it. It was Casey’s week with Ace, and it happened to be her eighth birthday. I wouldn’t get to celebrate her until this weekend, and it fucking sucked.

“Hi.”

I side-eyed the woman who sat down next to me.

She was shopping for a lay; that much was clear.

“Don’t waste your time on me,” I said.

She pursed her lips for a beat, undeterred. “What if I don’t see it as a waste?”

New approach, then. “Don’t waste my time either,” I drawled. “I ain’t interested.” I hadn’t been, for years. Couldn’t even remember the last time I got laid or even fooled around with someone. It was before my brother had cut me out of his life.

Jay was right. I was a dead man.

“I wanna do more of this,” Boone murmured.

I smiled at Ace, watching as she walked around the little accessory shop. It was best Boone and I stayed right outside; we had a way of breaking shit.

“Yeah.” So did I. I just had to be careful, because this was one of those moments that made me wanna play “Kiss Me” by Sixpence None the Richer on repeat.

Having Boone as my brother was already difficult. Having a daughter with