Page 81 of Single Mom's Bodyguards
“Not tonight.” I don’t make it a joke.
He loses the grin. “I know.” He leans on the jamb like it did something to him first. “You think he’ll try anything when the kids are here?”
“Unsure.”
“I’d like him to try something with me.”
“I’d like to see that.”
Wesley chimes in, “Same.”
Bailey comes into the den with two sweatshirts draped over her arm. “Your men outside…will they be cold tonight? It’s supposed to hit the sixties.”
“Maybe.”
She nods, then sets the sweatshirts on the back of the couch like that’s the answer the universe requires. She meets my eyes, holds them for a beat, and then looks away before her throat cantighten. She’s not fragile. She’s exhausted. When she leaves, I hear her yawn.
The gate cameras catch David’s SUV. Chief appears like magic out of the dark to check him in. Her voice comes through the radio in a flat monotone. “Vehicle’s clear. Two minors in the back. One adult driver. No special equipment.” Her way of saying no extra passengers, no surprises we haven’t accounted for. The gates open, allowing him in.
We all go outside, awaiting the children’s arrival and David’s annoying presence. David appears confused—a line has formed down his brow. There’s a reason I put Chief on gate duty for this. To make David submit to a woman.
Petty? Maybe.
Satisfying? Definitely.
The rear door opens first. Eli climbs out, his backpack bumping against the doorframe. His little hand clutches the strap tight, his face pinched. It takes me half a second to notice the cast. White plaster from wrist to elbow, thick and heavy on his small arm. My pulse spikes, angry heat slamming into my chest. Maeve slips out after him, hair braided, expression cautious like she already senses something is wrong. She glances at her brother’s arm, then at me, and then looks away quickly.
The driver’s door opens last. David unfolds himself with a kind of practiced ease, like he’s stepping onto a red carpet. He straightens his cuff links, a casual flourish, before turning to us. The bastard thinks this is theater. That’s how he always plays it—pose first, truth last. He scans the grounds and the locked gate behind him, then lets his smile widen, like we’re all performing in his play.
I step forward, my voice low when I speak to Eli. “What happened, kiddo?”
David waves a dismissive hand. “He fell.” The words are smooth, lazy. “Kids do that. Clumsy things.”
Liar.
Eli doesn’t meet my eyes. His shoulders hunch as if the cast weighs more than it should. “Yeah. I fell.”
Bailey rushes past me then, straight to Eli. She drops to her knees, her hands trembling as they hover around his cast. “Baby, are you—does it hurt? Who—how—” She cuts herself off, her voice fraying. She smooths his hair back, kisses his forehead, tries to hide the way her throat tightens, but I see it. We all see it.
David doesn’t look at her. He’s watching me, still smiling, but there’s something behind his eyes now. Calculation. Enjoyment. He knows exactly what he’s doing.
“Why the extra security?” he asks smoothly, gesturing at Chief’s silhouette pacing the fence. Pretending not to know why she’s there. “Looks a little extreme for a quiet weekend with the kids.”
I don’t say the real reason. If I say he hired someone to blow up Bailey’s house, then he can take that to a judge and say her house is too dangerous, thanks to some nutjob stalker. So, I go with the other truth. “Because you sent someone to spy on your ex-wife.”
His smile freezes. Just for a second. Then he shakes his head, tsking like a teacher correcting a child. “That’s a serious accusation.”
“Is there any other kind?”
“No, I suppose not.” His voice sharpens, coated in mock offense. “To your point, I didn’t send anyone. I categorically deny your accusation, you overgrown guard dog.” He says the words like he’s rehearsed them, like he’s saving the sound bite for later. His lawyer would be proud. “Be careful who you say that to, because it sounds an awful lot like libel.”
“You’re an idiot,” Huck mutters.
Bailey motions toward the kids. “Huck, don’t.”
But his gaze is on David. “Libel is printed. Slander is spoken, Davy.”
The man’s nostrils flare, but his smile remains. “Thank you for that valuable lesson. Did they teach you that at guard dog school?”
