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

much by sticking around.” And one more thing. “André should be able to give us some information from the license plate too.” Always good to have a friend on the police force.

“In other words, I can take us home again,” Boone finished.

I nodded absently as I typed out my message to Willow.

I was glad we weren’t turning this into an all-nighter of work, ’cause we had to get up at the ass-crack of dawn tomorrow for Ace’s soccer game.

Oh shit, good thing I thought of that now. “Remind me to unpack the new tees I ordered when we get home,” I said. “I want us to wear them tomorrow for Ace’s game.”

“Yeah? What do they say?”

He knew me well. Ace had inherited her love for personalizing clothing items from me.

“Member of Ace O’Sullivan’s Fan Club,” I answered. “I got one for Mom too.”

Boone chuckled. “Solid. I’m happy to finally be included.”

I felt my forehead crease, and I side-eyed him in question. As far as I knew, he’d been a member of Ace’s fan club as long as I had.

He shrugged. “I was dead to you when you started printing shit on clothes for you and Ace, and maybe I’ve been jealous.”

“Just maybe?” I smirked, shaking my head. “Like you don’t have your own traditions with her. I can’t even take her to the movies without her making sure it’s not a franchise she’s following with you.”

“We were talking about you, not me,” he responded coolly. “This isn’t some contest—or a joke. It’s about you and me establishing the fact that I’m nice and innocent and you’re a vicious man-eater.”

I barked out a laugh, then snapped my teeth at him.

He’d see the real joke tomorrow morning when I gave him his new XXXXXL fan club tee. He’d glare at me, I’d laugh my ass off, and then I’d give him the real one in XXXL before we were off.

Twelve

“Are you just not gonna talk to me?”

Not at the moment. I pulled into the drive-through and decided not to ask him what he wanted. “Yeah, hi, can I get two medium black coffees and a dozen original glazed? Actually, make four of them raspberry jelly.”

“Anything else, sir?”

“No, I’m good. My brother already thinks I’m fat,” I replied.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Case exclaimed. “It was a joke!”

Like I didn’t know. I was just fucking with him. He wasn’t the only one who could be a dick.

“Mom’s over there.” I pointed toward the field.

Boone grunted and picked up our cooler to carry it on his shoulder, and I grabbed our chairs and a bag and led the way. It was gonna be a hot-as-balls day, and part of me hoped Ace’s team got eliminated fast. Not that I’d ever admit that shit.

There was no denying I preferred single games at her school over these hooplas, though. Ten teams were facing off today, and if Ace’s team played like she did, we’d be here all day. Ten teams, four soccer fields, countless family members, music, and 109 degrees.

I didn’t know where the music was coming from, but I appreciated it.

As we got closer to the field where Ace would play her first game, I spotted her warming up with her friends.

My heart clenched at the sight of her. Mom must’ve braided her hair already.

“Ma!” Boone hollered.

Mom glanced over at us and rose from her chair. She’d dyed her hair again. Brown was better than ketchup red.

She grinned at our fantastic T-shirts. Plain white tees with black text, because I didn’t wanna steal focus from the message.

“Look at you boys,” she gushed. “I’m so glad you made up.”

Boone and I exchanged a smirk.

Then I dipped down and kissed her cheek and told her I had a tee for her too. “And snacks. We got you wine and cheese.”

“Oooh, fancy. Thank you, sugar. I brought sandwiches and cookies for us.” She directed where I could place the chairs, and I did an internal fist-pump. Her sandwiches were the best. Boone and I had only brought beer, a couple bags of chips, the wine and cheese for Ma, leftover Chinese food, a bag of gummy worms, some Slim Jims, jerky, three slices of questionable pizza I’d found in the fridge, water, a box of Twinkies, and the coffee and dozen donuts we’d bought on the way.

“Ma, did you make mine with meatballs?” Boone questioned. “The ones you make yourself?”

“Of course, baby.” Mom took her seat again.

My brother whispered a “Fuck yes” and plopped down next to her, the chair creaking at the impact.

I kept my amusement to myself as I fanned out the XXXXXL T-shirt between our chairs. It could be Ace’s blanket when she was allowed to come over for a break.

Boone shot me a scowl before seeking support from Mom. “Look what he did. He thought it’d be fun to make us these shirts, but not before bullying me viciously.”

Mom leaned forward and eyed the tee on the grass. She sniggered. “And I’m sure you didn’t punch your brother in return.”

“He totally did!” I exclaimed. “My shoulder still hurts.”

“Oh, cry me a fucking river,” Boone huffed. “No one cares about me.”

Who was crying a river, really?

“That’s enough,” Mom told him. “You’re equally cruel toward each other sometimes. The only difference is, Casey says it to your face, and you say shit behind his back.”

“Whoa!” I stared at him, incredulous, while he got defensive.

“That was before!” he argued. “Way before, even—when I was pissed.” He turned his glare on Mom. “How about you don’t rehash old crap? He’s still a flight risk, and I don’t wanna get kicked out.”

Hmpf. The fight left me, though I decided to put him on probation. But no, I wasn’t a fucking flight risk. He was being ridiculous. Maybe I wasn’t the drama queen between the two of us after all. He seemed plenty dramatic to me.

“How about the two of you become nicer?” Mom retorted. “You still treat each other like you did when you were children. Casey