Protect Me Not ((Un)Professionally Yours 2)

“How’d you find me?” she asked when she saw him. She sounded as disgruntled as she felt.

He scoffed at her question, and he eased down beside her, resting his own plate on his knees. “I’d be a piss poor CPO if I didn’t spot you sneaking out. Why are you out here by yourself?”

“I needed some solitude.”

He was quiet for a moment as he took a sip of his diet soda.

“Want me to sit on the boat and give you some space?” he asked, referring to Miles’s forty-five-foot sloop, moored at the pier.

“Don’t be silly,” she muttered, keeping her eyes on her plate. She sensed his concern but didn’t want to meet his eyes.

“What’s wrong, honey?”

“Should you call me that when you’re on duty?” she asked, feeling snippy.

“I’m having my lunch.”

“While watching me. Sounds like a working lunch to me.”

“What’s going on with you right now?” he asked keeping his voice determinedly level, even while she could hear the impatience fraying the edges of his words.

“Nothing. I told you, I just felt like being alone. That’s all.” She glared at the scuffed toes of her white canvas sneakers, feeling stupidly emotional for no reason whatsoever.

He remained silent, poking at his salad with the plastic fork.

Her vision went blurry, and she willed back the tears, feeling silly for being so unreasonably emotional right now. But a tear escaped. She sniffed desolately and wiped her cheek against her shoulder.

“Vicki.” His voice had gone deadly quiet. She could hear the alarm and concern in it. “Please, tell me what’s…”

Miles’s voice interrupted whatever he’d been about to say. “Here you are!”

“Shit,” Vicki muttered, beneath her breath. She surreptitiously swiped the back of her hand across her face.

Sam Brand and Miles joined them.

“Well, I don’t blame you for hiding out here, there’s a nice fresh breeze compared to the heat in the yard,” Miles said, taking a sip of his beer.

Her straitlaced brother was now a bro who barbecued, wore board shorts, and had easy conversations with his buddies while clutching an open bottle of beer in his hand.

If Vicki wasn’t feeling so inexplicably melancholy, she would have laughed at the incongruity of it.

Ty leaped to his feet, spilling a little of his drink as he did so, and positioned himself so that his legs shielded her from view. Typical chivalric Tyler Chambers.

What a gentleman.

“Sam tells me you’ll be staying a few days longer?” Miles was saying, and Vicki’s attention snapped back on the conversation.

What?

Chapter Twenty-Four

“Yeah, we need to discuss some business.” Ty—the rat—sounded uncomfortable. He was shifting restlessly from foot to foot.

“Yes, I heard you’ve been promoted. Congratulations. We’re taking the boat out for some fishing after the wedding craziness has died down. I hope you’ll join us?”

“That would be—”

Vicki shoved to her feet—leaving her still-full plate on the pier—and brushed by the trio of oh-so-manly men. Soon to be fishing buddies.

Great.

Wonderful.

“I have to go,” she said, her tone sharp, the words curt. She knew she was being rude but to hell with them.

To hell with Miles for not knowing how much pain she was in. To hell with Sam for keeping Ty here longer. And to hell with Ty for not deigning to tell her that he wouldn’t be returning to London with her.

It truly grated and hurt that Miles had known this vital piece of information before Vicki.

It just showed where she fell on the totem pole. Far, far below Ty’s work and his precious self-imposed isolation. Definitely nowhere near his grim, lonely hobby, or his wall of the dead, or his macabre collection of family keepsakes.

Vicki did not even factor. She never had. She was just an inconvenient itch to be scratched. She had always known that. But that didn’t matter. She was still pissed off. And sad…And so bloody heartbroken all at the same time.

Because she was in love with the idiot.

She had known this would hurt, yet still felt irrationally betrayed because he hadn’t told her he was staying. She had believed that they had four days left, when in reality it was more like three. She felt robbed. And yes, it clearly hadn’t meant anything to him in the long run, but she’d thought maybe he respected her a little. Cared for her a smidgeon.

While he couldn’t even be bothered to inform her of something she considered pretty damned vital information.

The tentative knock on her door disturbed Vicki about half an hour later.

“Vicki?” Charity called through the door. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Just feeling crampy,” she lied, cracking open the door to speak with Charity. “A touch of PMS. I think I’m going to take a hot shower and have an early night. Please can you convey my apologies to everyone?”

“Of course.” Charity’s eyes were gentle. She didn’t look like she believed a word Vicki was saying. “If you need anything, please let me know. I’m just a text message away.”