“Why don’t you guys show me around?” Nora stands up, takes Emma’s hand, and reaches for Henry’s with her free one.
Jack jumps into action. “This is the kitchen.”
I laugh as the kids take turns showing her each individual cabinet and everything inside them, but Nora doesn’t balk, she’s just follows behind, listening intently and nodding with a smile of approval.
“I’m going to grab your bags,” I say.
Nora nods, and I walk out the door, bound down the stairs, and run face-first into a brick wall.
“You must be Grayson.” The wall says, crossing his massive arms over his chest.
I’m not tiny by any means, but I’ve got nothing on this guy. “And you are?”
“Your worst nightmare if you fuck with my girl.”
His girl? I thought Nora and her boyfriend broke up. Is this the asshole who cheated on her? I take a menacing step forward. He might be bigger than me, but I can hold my own.
“Are you the fucker who cheated on her?” I say, getting in his face. “If so, you’re the one who should be worried, because I will—”
The man’s scowl breaks into a smile. “She was right. You are one of the good ones. Any man who wants to beat the shit out of her ex as much as I do is on my good side. I’m Bo.”
Bo.
Oh, right. “The bodyguard?”
He nods and holds out his hand. We shake.
“Grayson,” I tell him.
“I know.”
“She told you about me?”
“No.” He frowns and shakes his head. “She actually hasn’t said much, just that you’re one of the good guys and I have nothing to worry about.”
“She’s right. You have nothing to worry about. Nora is great, and I would never do anything to hurt her.”
“I know. I looked you up.”
I quirk a brow. “You did?”
He nods and grabs three suitcases out of the bed of Nick’s old truck. “Grayson Calhoun, twenty-eight, divorced with three kids.”
“That’s common knowledge.”
“I’m not done.” Bo levels me with a hard glare. “Arrested twice. Once at the age of sixteen for jumping the fence and skinny dipping in the local pool after hours and a second time at twenty-six for a domestic call.”
Holy shit, how does he know about that? I thought all record of that had been wiped clean. Suddenly, I feel the need to defend myself.
“I didn’t hit
Lorelei.”
“I know you didn’t.”
“How do you know?”
“Because you just told me.” The big man smiles. “And because I know everything. I know you showed up at her house at nine-thirty that night, pissed off because you found bruises on your son, Jack. I also know that when you arrived, she, too, was covered in bruises from her boyfriend. And when you started to yell, she called the cops and told them you were the one who’d caused the damage to her face.”