As in murders.

So…yeah, Auggie Hero, Badass Extraordinaire standing outside my daughter’s classroom freaked me.

Big time.

His voice—something I particularly liked about him, it was deep but smooth (not silky and elegant, instead soft and calming)—came at me.

“Is there a reason Juno wouldn’t be safe?”

My voice was rising. “I don’t know! You tell me.”

“Pepper, I didn’t come up to me and ask if Juno was safe.”

Okay…

Wait.

What?

“Then why are you standing outside Juno’s classroom?”

His strong, heavily stubbled chin jutted slightly to the side.

“I’m here for career day,” he declared. “Juno called. She wants me to talk to her class about going into the military.”

I blinked up at him.

“You didn’t know?” he asked.

No.

I.

Did.

Not.

Know.

That.

My.

Daughter.

Asked.

Augustus Hero.

To talk to her class on the same day I was going to talk to her class!

How did Juno…?

Why did Juno…?

What the hell?

“Her father isn’t coming?” I asked Auggie.

He shook his head once. “No clue. I just know I’m here and now you’re here. That’s all I know.”

I stood there, staring at him, at a loss for words because my daughter had somehow found a way to call Auggie and ask him to come and talk to her class during career day.

She did not have a cell phone.

As far as I knew, she didn’t use my mobile.

Though, we were one of the last of a dying breed that had a landline, also as far as I knew, Auggie’s phone number was not a part of the collective conscious.

How did she call him?

Further, I didn’t know if she had a quota on how many people she could ask to come speak to the class, but if she did, and considering the fact that her father was not there, that meant possibly she’d picked Auggie over Corbin.

Even if Corbin was a cheat and an asshole and I had many (what I thought were) serious questions about his concept of parenting, Corbin was good-looking. He was confident. He dressed well. He had encyclopedic knowledge of Bruce Willis films, Seinfeld and The Office. And he was indeed baller at real estate. So he was interesting, could hold a conversation and probably had motivating tidbits to share with a third-grade class.

Auggie, on the other hand, was the most beautiful man I’d ever laid eyes on and every time I saw him I was reminded of this fact.

That thick black-black hair that curled at the ends. His hooded brow, deep-set onyx eyes and dense eyebrows that had a wicked-gorgeous arch. The slight flair to the nostrils of his strong, attractive nose. His excruciatingly perfect lips. His tall, lean, muscled body that was not too tall or too lean or too muscled, it was all just right.

Not to mention, I had noted in all of these months since Lottie had begun her fixups and we’d all intermingled copiously, that Auggie was funny.