Explosive Alliance (Wingmen Warriors 9)

His smile faded. "What happened with the break-in puts a new spin on things. This is about the business of keeping your practice afloat and a roof over your head. Most of all this is about keeping you and Kirstie safe. Even on testosterone overload, I recognize everything else has to take a back seat."

He sure did have a way of taking the sting out of saying he could live in the same house with her and not do a thing about it. "And you've already talked this over with my brother."

Bo nodded. "He's not happy about it, but sees the logic. He puts your safety first."

"Then it's settled." As much as she wanted to stand on her own two feet, only a moron would turn down the extra security of his presence. For her daughter. "I'm sorry for sounding ungrateful, but the thought of having you here makes me feel this tug between us all the more. Frankly, that scares me as much as vandals prowling the town."

"You sure don't pull punches, lady, or make it any easier for a guy. I like that about you.

But no worries." He held his hands in front of him. "I meant what I said about keeping these to myself."

"Fair enough." Her hands behind her, she splayed her fingers along the roughened bark, the tree's gnarled sturdiness offering a welcome support that demanded nothing in return.

"Thank you for making me smile today. I needed that."

"No problem." He fished his keys out of his pocket. "I'm going to head out now. Mako's waiting to catch supper together."

How silly that she didn't want him to touch her but she didn't want him to leave. Soon enough he would be around 24/7, and wasn't that a scary and exciting thought all at once?

"Mako?" she called out, shoving away from the tree. "That's his nickname, right?"

Pausing, he propped his elbows over the open sedan door, bronzed wrists contrasting to white paint. "His call sign. Yeah."

"What's your call sign?" She edged round the oak and slid down to sit on Kirstie's swing.

"Bo."

Her fingers wrapped around the hemp rope, her toe dragging the dusty ground while the rope creaked with each gentle sway. "But I thought your real name was Bo."

"It's what I go by." He tapped the name tag on his brown leather jacket. "But it's not my legal name."

"Why do they call you Bo?"

"Kind of like 'Bo is for beau, can I be yours?'" His half-cocked grin suggested he was joking. Or not.

Great. He really did have a player reputation. A good thing or bad since he was staying in her house now? "Really."

"Actually, no."

"Then what does it mean?"

His cobalt-blue eyes glinted with the twinkle of stars overhead. "Everybody's got a theory they like to torment me with by threatening to spread it around."

"Such as?"

He studied her for four slow creaks of the swing before stepping around the sedan door, closer to her. "Tag insists it's because of the Rokowsky—cow—in my name. Bovine.

Bo."

"Ewww. Guys can be so gross. Is that the truth?"

"Maybe. Maybe not." He leaned one shoulder against the tree. "Then there are those who say it's a package reference."

"Package?" Oh, my. He couldn't actually mean... She forced her eyes not to drop lower.

"As in, I'm the total package with a bow."

Those slightly crooked teeth sure did charm her as much as his smile. "Uh-huh. So which is correct?"