Page 31 of The Auction
That’s what makes it dangerous because I have to keep Jaxon Kane on the other side of that closed door.
“You’re richer than God and you’re getting free tacos from food-truck Abuela? You’re the worst.”
He shrugs, all smooth nonchalance. “I pay their bills.”
I pause, my eyes widening. “You pay their bills?”
“Maria threatened to cut off my fingers if I tried to pay for the tacos too.”
That makes me laugh—unexpected and full. It slips out of me before I can stop it. “You’re such an asshole.”
“I’m pretty sure she’s serious,” he continues. “I keep the lights on. She feeds me.”
“But… why?”
“Have you seen me in a kitchen? I’d blow up half of Manhattan.”
“No, you idiot.” Only I could get away with calling the one of the worlds smartest men an idiot. “Why do you pay their bills?”
He shrugs again, like it’s no big deal. “Because I can. And they’re good people.”
He says it like it’s nothing.
Like it didn’t probably change their lives.
I study him for a second longer, chewing slower now. This boy who pulled a live cricket from my hair, forever coining my nickname, has turned into a man who hands over rent money like it’s spare change and speaks Spanish like he was born into it.
But what gets me most… is the way he still knows exactly what I love.
Not just the tacos, but the arepas. The ones exactly like the racetrack where I have some of my happiest memories.
When my mom was full of life and healthy. I’d almost forgotten what she looked like back then.
But one bite, and it’s like every memory surged forward in perfect detail.
“Thank you,” I murmur before I even realize I’ve said anything.
Jaxon looks over, brows lifting slightly.
Then he flicks a piece of shredded chicken at my forehead.
“Hey!”
“You were getting too sentimental,” he says with a smirk. “Had to keep you humble.”
By the time we hit the quiet stretch of road that winds out of the city and into the hills, my stomach is full, my skin still warm from the soft glow of string lights—and my mood is surprisingly light.
Until his phone rings and the name on the screen flashes bright.
Eve.
And just like that, the air turns sour.
I glance at it, then look away quickly, annoyed with myself. It’s not like I have any claim over him. I don’t. We aren’t anything.
He answers on speaker, casual. “Yeah?”
The woman doesn’t wait. She launches in like she owns the line.
