Protect Me Not ((Un)Professionally Yours 2)

Chance thumped him on his back—hard enough to make Ty wince—and stood.

“Right, I’m out of here, I’m heading in to the office. Text me if you need anything.”

Ty showed up just before midday. He stalked into the living room behind Hugh and glared at Vicki who was sitting on the sofa, enjoying a restorative cup of tea with her elevenses.

“Why isn’t she in bed?” he demanded of Hugh, pointing an accusatory finger at Vicki, as if Hugh wouldn’t know to whom he was referring otherwise.

“She can speak for herself, and she chooses not to wallow in bed all day long,” Vicki replied levelly, before taking a sip of tea. She was determined not to show him how truly pissed off she was with him after their conversation last night. She extended a hand toward one of the chairs. “Do have a seat, Ty. Would you care for a cup of tea?”

She stifled her grin when his scowl grew even more formidable. She knew he couldn’t abide tea and also knew how much her prim invitation would irritate him. He wasn’t a man who stood on ceremony.

But he surprised her by striding toward the chair and sitting, still with that intense glower on his face.

“This is all too dramatic for me,” Hugh said, his words a sardonic drawl. “Please excuse me, I have a few calls to make. I’ll be in my study if you need me.”

“How do you feel?” Ty asked once Hugh had vacated the room. He sounded terse, impatient almost.

“Okay. My head isn’t pounding anymore. This is an impressive bruise, don’t you think?” She brushed her concealing curls aside to show off her goose egg, and he groaned at the sight of it.

“Fuck, I should have broken his goddamn wrist,” he said through gritted teeth. “What about your arm?”

“It hurts, but the painkillers are helping with that. How are you? You had your meeting with Miles and Sam this morning, right? How did that go?”

“Surely you know, since you made sure to influence the outcome,” he said, leaning toward the coffee table to help himself to a scone. He slathered it with butter, strawberry jam, and clotted cream, then shoved half of it into his mouth. No dainty nibbles for him. Just a couple of chews and a swallow. He repeated the process with the other half of the scone. He made short work of it. Vicki was so diverted by the economical way he dealt with the confectionery that she ignored his comment for the moment.

“Well?” he prompted after dusting his hands off. He sprawled back in the chair, long legs spread in front of him, elegant hands curved over the edges of the armrests.

“Well, what?” she asked, completely distracted by the raw masculinity on display just a few feet away. He wasn’t dressed for work. Instead, he wore another pair of well-worn jeans, black this time, and a gray denim shirt, with cuffs rolled up to reveal those beautiful forearms.

“What do you have to say for yourself?” When she stared at him in confusion, he sighed. “About speaking to your brother and Brand on my behalf?”

“I didn’t do that. I didn’t speak on your behalf, specifically…I simply explained how events unfolded and left them to draw their own conclusions. I take it they concluded that you were not at fault?”

“They did.”

Vicki couldn’t help it; she gave herself a mental high five. She was happy that everyone had, indeed, understood that Ty was entirely blameless in the situation.

“Okay, good,” she said offering him a smile. Which he did not return.

“I won’t be there if this happens again, Vicki…”

“What do you mean? Did they take you off my detail? But—”

“That’s not what I mean. I’ll remain your primary CPO until the day you fly back to London. But after that, Chance and I will no longer be there to protect you. You have to be more vigilant. You’re in that store long after closing time, sometimes even after dark. Anyone can look in and see that you’re in there all alone. I need you to be more careful, okay?”

“Well, since you don’t intend to miss me, or even think about me when you leave, I don’t see how that’s any concern of yours.” Vicki knew that her snarky comment was unwarranted, but she was getting sick of his confusing signals. One moment he seemed to care for her, but the next he was The Iceman.

It was exhausting.

“Well, I haven’t left yet,” he said, his voice going frigid. “And I’m thinking of you now. I would hate for you to get hurt after all the hard work I put in to keeping you safe and out of trouble.”

Like a good babysitter.

Vicki sighed. She no longer felt confrontational. Merely sad and forlorn.

“I’ll be fine. I won’t even come running to you for any comforting kisses when things get a little hard.” She took petty pleasure in the way he winced at that comment. “On the odd occasion that you do spare me a thought, you won’t have to worry, I’ve given Miles the go ahead to improve shop security. I imagine Brand will take care of that for him, which means it’ll probably be way too over-the-top for a tiny flower shop in Kensington. At least it’ll give my brother peace of mind.”