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

Our house sat at the very end of the street, so in the backyard, all we saw was desert and mountains shifting in yellow, green, and red. Sunsets and sunrises around here took my fucking breath away. It was the backyard that had sealed the deal for me. The desertscape, the absolute peace, the babbling stream that ran right off our property, on the other side of the waist-high wall.

Although, I really dug the floor plan of our first real home too. It was nice to have our own bedroom. Ace loved her room too. She had the upstairs almost all to herself, except for our home office.

Letting out a breath, I wiped more sweat from my forehead and wondered what the hell was taking Boone so long.

I wasn’t gonna bitch, though. He’d gone above and beyond to give me my backyard campsite.

The little Airstream was in place, and he’d built a barbecue area around it with his bare hands. A wooden framework surrounded the Airstream, creating both a step to get into the bullet as well as a narrow deck for Ace to keep her flowers and cacti. It was her new thing. She’d spent her allowance on pots, seeds, and soil all spring. And paint, because the pots had to be colorful.

She was my daughter.

“Dad, can Emma and I bake cookies?” Ace asked.

Yeah, get out of the sun. “Go for it. There’s cookie dough in the fridge,” I replied. “Don’t touch the white chocolate macadamia, though. That’s for Daddy.”

“Got it!” She tumbled into the water with a Coke can I hoped was empty, and she swam over to the ladder. Emma was hot on her tail, and the two ran across the little lawn to grab their towels by the doors. Since we were building this outdoor area down here, we’d made the original deck a lot smaller. It actually reminded me of the porch we’d had before. Just enough space for a table and chairs so we could have dinner.

I didn’t want a damn table near my firepit. It would ruin the whole atmosphere.

Boone finally stepped out—with his toolbox—and he could not look hotter. Jeans, no shoes, no shirt, all tatted up, a bit sweaty.

“You know how to seduce me,” I said.

He smirked. “You’re easy, baby.” He smacked a kiss to my lips before setting the toolbox on the stone edge of the firepit.

“That’s your fault, not mine.” I looked down at the tent pole and where it was stuck in the ground. “I think the cement has dried.” I couldn’t wiggle the pole as much anymore.

He’d drilled a hole straight through the stone tile and stuck the pole down there, and then he’d taped a level to the pole and told me to hold it in place while he filled the leftover space with cement.

“It takes twenty-four hours to dry, but it should’ve settled a bit now.”

My handyman was handy.

I didn’t know what impressed me the most, the firepit he’d made with stone and mortar or…no, now I knew. The wooden staircase he’d built along the end of the Airstream. I’d thought it would just be a few steps to cover the trailer hitch, but it turned out he had plans for the roof of the Airstream. Now we could climb up there and lie down on a cushy mat just like we used to do in the bed of his truck growing up. He was giving me my favorite memories from our childhood and beyond.

“Okay, I think you can let go now.” He swiped his thumb around the cement edge, smoothing the surface. “Where did you put the lights?”

“I’ll get them.” They were just inside the Airstream. Ace and I had picked them out online. Instead of regular bistro lights, we’d gone with a lantern design. They were tiny and colorful.

Fuck, I was excited. Boone had been at it all spring, while I had focused on installing our technology and security system inside the house. Everything was coming together now. Just a few final touches to go. Ace wanted to paint the walls in her room, and Mom thought we needed new cupboards in the kitchen.

I’d let her handle that. I didn’t give a fuck.

Right this moment, I only cared about finishing our campsite. I wanted to take a photo and send it to Darius, letting him know we were ready to have him and his partner over for a visit. The silver bullet didn’t have much, but there was a bed, AC, a small fridge and freezer, and a stereo. All the things we could need for a perfect evening out here.

Boone was attaching a hook to the top of the pole when I returned with the two boxes of lights.

“I don’t think you realize how happy this is making me,” I said.

He sent me a sideways smile and tested the durability of the hook. “I have a feeling.”

Possibly because I had a way of mauling him at the end of the day.

“Didn’t I fucking tell you we needed a house?” he added. “You might be the brains at work, but I know you. I’ve had these plans in my head for years. I know what you like.”

He wasn’t wrong.

“You have good ideas sometimes.” I smirked.

Speaking of work, I should get ready soon. I needed a shower.

Tonight would go well—gut feeling. The guy was eager, and I was fairly certain he had a buyer lined up already. That’d been the case the last two times he’d bought something from us.

Most of AJ Lange’s watch collection and the cash from his wall safe had given us our house. Tonight, I was selling the last timepiece. It was worth forty grand; we were selling it for thirty.

“Anything else you want me to do before I get ready to meet the buyer?” I asked.

Boone squinted, glancing around the barbecue area as he fastened a lantern to the tent pole. “I don’t think so. I gotta bring the chairs from the garage and attach the canvas. That’s about