Protect Me Not ((Un)Professionally Yours 2)

“Why don’t you just go sit with him?” Hugh finally asked, after a couple of hours of silence between them. He was glaring at Vicki over the rims of his reading glasses. He looked exasperated.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she grumbled, folding her arms over her chest and focusing her attention on the puffy clouds beneath them.

“You’ve been sulking ever since your boyfriend slash bodyguard abandoned you here with me. I don’t care if you want to sit back there and snog. As long as I don’t have to see it.”

“He cares. And he’s not my boyfriend.”

“Whatever.” Hugh waved an elegant hand in dismissal. He and Stephen had officially called it off just a few days ago, but Hugh seemed relieved rather than heartbroken about it. “But I find this moping tedious.”

“I’m not moping.”

“I hope you’re not going to be like this the whole bloody holiday. Mum’s getting married and nobody wants to see your sulky dial grimming up the wedding photos.”

“I know, okay? I’ll be fine. Mum won’t even know anything’s wrong.”

Ty shouldn’t have turned this into a thing. Sitting upfront with Hugh and Vicki had seemed inappropriate, but in retrospect it was weirder sitting back here by himself. Now he had Carlie, or whatever the attendant’s name was, flirting with him every chance she got, while Vicki very determinedly kept her eyes front.

Worse, he had seen the shock and hurt in those pretty eyes when he had veered to the right after they’d boarded.

Dumb. Making a big deal out of something so fucking small. He wanted to set the tone for the rest of the trip, keep it strictly professional. But how the fuck was that even possible anymore? When he was questioning his every damned decision, starting with something as basic as the seating arrangements on their flight?

Hugh was making his way to the back of the aircraft, probably to use the restroom. Ty watched him approach and was taken aback when the man—maintaining eye contact—stopped beside Ty’s seat.

“I’m not an idiot, I know you and my sister are…” He frowned, looking remarkably like Vicki as he searched for the right words. “Involved.”

Ty stared—feeling trapped—not quite sure how to respond to this.

“I wanted you to know that your ridiculous decision to sit back here isn’t fooling me, at all. And if you want to keep this thing between my sister and you from Miles, maybe staring at her like you’re a starving man, and she’s an all-you-can-eat buffet—” Hugh shuddered as he seemed to hear his own words. “Ugh, okay, that’s—yeah…” He cleared his throat and continued. “What I meant to say is, you’re not going to fool Miles. And—even though Vicki is an adult—I don’t think Miles is going to like that the guy tasked with protecting her is having casual, you know, with her.”

“I’m not sure how you expect me to respond to this,” Ty said carefully, once it was clear that Hugh was done speaking and was waiting for him to reply.

“I don’t know.” Hugh looked as confused as Ty felt. “Maybe start with a promise that you won’t hurt her?”

“I don’t want to hurt her…” Ty said, his eyes finding the back of that curly head again. “But I worry that I’m going to. That I already am.”

Hugh sighed. “Well you get points for honesty, I suppose. But try fucking harder. She doesn’t deserve to be hurt.”

As if Ty didn’t already know that.

Chapter Twenty-Three

“Oh God, I’m glad I changed on the plane,” Vicki moaned—lifting her curls from her neck—shortly after they landed at George airport the following day. It was just after noon and the temperature was already soaring.

Vicki had changed into a romper…the same romper she’d been wearing the first time they—Ty’s brain skewed away from the recollection. But he couldn’t help but wonder if she had chosen it deliberately. She had to have known how it would affect him.

Now all he could think of was that day. How she had looked with the damned thing pooled around her waist, while he sawed his…

Jesus!

Fucking focus, Ty!

Miles’s future father-in-law, George Clark, would have met them at the airport, but apparently the man had wedding planning commitments. Hugh had joked that George would probably have preferred to pick them up, rather than suffer through whatever his fiancée had in store for him today.

Instead, Brand had sent a driver to collect them. The driver was one of Brand EPS’s local security team. Ty didn’t know him. He exchanged a terse nod with the big, steel jawed man and hustled Vicki and Hugh into the back of the car. Ty climbed into the front passenger seat.

While Vicki and Hugh amicably argued about who was most qualified to help their mother pick out a wedding dress, Ty kept his eyes on the passing scenery, not bothering to engage the driver in conversation. The guy was all business anyway and seemed to speak in mostly monosyllabic grunts. Ty was somewhat surprised to find himself missing Chance’s gregarious, distracting chatter.