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

he was an emotional eater. The hash browns disappeared in three stabs of his fork, and then he was drowning his pancakes in syrup while he went for his bacon and eggs.

It was time to say something. It was time to forge a connection so I could have some time to figure out what the hell was up with him.

“Darius called me the other day,” I said.

Ace’s dark-brown eyes lit up with excitement. “Is he visiting? Is Uncle Ryan coming too? Can he bring the babies?”

“Slow down, hon,” I chuckled. “I don’t know yet. It’s for a job.” I slid my gaze to Boone and swallowed my dread about what this could do for my mental health. “I told him we’d take it—together.”

He frowned and wiped his mouth on a napkin. “What kinda job?”

“Recon, mostly.”

There was a big fish named Alfred Lange who needed to be fried. It would be Boone’s and my job to lay the groundwork.

Darius had been right. I wouldn’t be able to do this on my own. I’d been planning on calling a couple friends who were heavily connected, but it went without saying that I preferred to work with my brother. I couldn’t deny that.

“I thought we didn’t take jobs together anymore,” Boone said.

Yeah, well. I thought I had an estranged brother who didn’t cry at insurance commercials and when watching our daughter play soccer.

Shit changed.

It didn’t escape my notice that Ace was stuffing food in her face while watching us like a spectator at a tennis match.

“You think too much,” I settled for saying. “Come over tonight so we can go through the intel Willow sent me. Ace can have a sleepover with Gramma.”

“Yes, I sure fucking can,” she replied with a grin.

I winked at her.

Three

“Pipe the fuck down!” Case yelled and banged on the wall. Our neighbors were at it again. If they weren’t screwing too loudly, they were using each other as punching bags.

I sat at our tiny kitchen table and tried to get Paisley to eat more.

But good luck getting her to finish her mac and cheese when Case was yelling up a storm. Her dark eyes widened until they were almost round, and she sat stiff as a stick in her booster seat.

“Don’t make me bring a baseball bat over there!” Case shouted.

I cleared my throat pointedly. He was one curse away from scaring the poor girl.

He glanced back at me, then at Paisley, and scratched the side of his head. “Come here, sweet pea. You can help me.” He picked her up from the seat and returned to the wall. “Like this.” He started banging on the wall again. “Stop including your neighbors in your fights!”

Paisley was no longer scared. A big smile lit up her face, and she began pounding her fists on the wall too. “Stop it, stop it, stop it!” she yelled.

“That’s my girl.” Case hugged her tightly.

“Oh, Casey. Why?”

I smirked. “Why what?”

Ma sighed heavily and shook her head. “You know very well. You shouldn’t encourage her like that. The pins are bad enough.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “It’s a joke. It’s funny!”

And the pins were priceless. Ace was mildly obsessed with funny pins that she could fasten on her backpack and clothes.

“Only if people know the whole story,” Ma grated.

She piped down when Ace reappeared in the hallway. She’d bolted as soon as I’d stopped the car because she had to pee.

I bent down and gave her my cheek. “Be good. I’ll pick you up after school tomorrow.”

She nodded and kissed my cheek. “You be good too, Dad. Okay?”

“I promise.” I kissed her on the forehead and spotted Boone coming from the kitchen.

He managed a grin at her T-shirt. “I fuckin’ love it, baby.”

“Right?” she exclaimed. “Dad took me to a place at the outlet mall yesterday where you can personalize your clothes just like that.” She snapped her fingers.

I smiled and scratched my nose.

Mom huffed and threw her hands up in surrender before she just walked off.

Poor woman.

In my opinion, a tee with the words, “Muh daddy’s muh uncle, muh uncle’s muh daddy” was simply brilliant humor.

From an early age, Ace had loved to slide that into conversation with everyone from the old guy at the gas station to the girl taking our order at Wendy’s. One way or another, she let people know her fathers were brothers.

“You ready to go?” I asked Boone.

He inclined his head. “I’ll follow you.”

Oh, right. He hadn’t actually been to my place.

Ten minutes later, with a remix of “Mr. Saxobeat” pouring out of the speakers of my car, I rolled into Paradise Parkview with my brother in tow. I nodded my head to the beat and drove past the main office, the playground, and took a right to get to 4th Lane where I had my trailer. But apparently, we weren’t allowed to call them trailers anymore. The new owner was putting “manufactured homes” in all the brochures and sounded like a broken fucking record. Even into the name of the park, which was actually now Paradise Parkview Manufactured Home Club, your affordable sanctuary on the edge between Paradise and Winchester.

Giving the trailers a fresh coat of white paint and renaming the park was like giving a hot dog a French name and calling it fine dining.

I parked next to my trailer and sat there while I waited for the song to end.

It’d been ages since I’d gone out. It was time. I needed to hit up a club soon or something, maybe get laid.

“Are you comin’, sunshine?” Boone hollered.

I sighed and killed the music, then stepped out of my car. “Usually not in front of people.”

He snorted and averted his gaze, taking in the closest surroundings. He’d parked a little too close to my mailbox. Fucker. “I guess that sucks for your boyfriend.”

Huh? “I don’t have one, so…” I climbed up my porch, where I wanted to spend many future evenings with Ace, and retrieved my keys. The porch was gonna get