Page 39 of Single Mom's Bodyguards
I keep my eyes on the curb. Because something smellsoff. I clock him the second he rounds the corner of the admin building.
David Oswalt.
Polished. Pressed. Looking like he just stepped off a golf course commercial—crisp white polo, expensive loafers, hair a little too perfect for a man pretending he’s casually involved.
But his walk is wrong. Too purposeful. Too much fire in his eyes.
Jessica sees him at the same time I do. She steps out of the driver’s seat, closes the door behind her. She has the same mission as me—make sure the kids get to class. From here, wecan watch them walk to their respective classrooms and make sure their father doesn’t get any ideas about pulling them from school for the day. Or for longer.
David’s smile is sharp. “Jessica,” he says, like they’re old friends catching up over coffee. “Tell Bailey I’ll be picking the kids up today after school.”
“No, you won’t,” she replies flatly.
His smile doesn’t move, but his tone shifts. “I’ll be picking them up,” he repeats, slower now, like she didn’t understand the first time. “Just passing that message along. Since she won’t talk to me.”
“You don’thavecustody today, so you’re not picking them up.”
“That court order’s fluid.”
“No, it’snot.” She doesn’t raise her voice. She doesn’t step back.
I’m proud of her for that. But I can see the edge of her tightening jaw. The way she positions her body between him and the SUV—like she’s ready to go hand-to-hand if it comes to that.
David’s eyes narrow. “You’ve always been too involved. You think this is about you?”
“No,” she says. “But Idothink it’s about keeping Maeve and Eli safe. So, if you’ve got a message for Bailey, send it through your lawyer.”
That’s when it happens. His hand twitches. The smile drops. And his weight shifts forward—just barely. But I see it.
Jessica sees it too. She tenses, but doesn’t flinch.
That’s my cue.
I step forward and fill the space between them. David jerks back like he just realized I’ve been here the whole time. Which makes me smile. Big. Slow. Mean. I growl, “Problem?”
He lifts his hands, all innocence and practiced charm. “Not at all. Just saying hello to the help.”
I take another step.
He stops smiling. David’s still got his hands up like he’s auditioning for sainthood, but I can see the flicker behind his eyes. He’s trying to calculate whether I’ll break his jaw before anyone can stop me. He’s not wrong to worry.
I step a little closer. Close enough for him to smell that I’m not bluffing. “I’ve seen guys like you before,” I say low, so only he can hear it. “Behind luxury gates and police reports and golf memberships. Guys who smile at cameras and hit women when no one’s looking.”
He scoffs. “I have never hit Jessica?—”
“No,” I say. “But youthoughtabout it.”
His jaw twitches.
“You flinched,” I go on. “Shifted forward. Dropped your smile. For someone who’s supposed to be playing nice, you got a little too close to letting that expensive mask slip.” I step closer, my chest almost to his face, and stare down at him. “You’re lucky we’re in a public place, David. But we won’t be forever.”
He opens his mouth to reply, but doesn’t get the chance.
“Everything okay over here?”
The voice comes from our right—school security officer, maybe late thirties, walking toward us in a blue polo and khakis with aradio clipped to his belt, lace-up boots. Not armed, but clearly ex-military by his stance. I like him immediately.
David straightens and pastes on a new smile. “Yes, sir. Just a little misunderstanding.”
