Protect Me Not ((Un)Professionally Yours 2)

“Well, you definitely have a natural talent for it.”

He smiled and twirled his wine glass by the stem, staring into the pale golden liquid almost pensively.

“I used to help my mom in the kitchen. She called me her little chef’s assistant,” he said with a melancholy twist of his lips.

Vicki didn’t say anything, waiting—hoping—for more, but expecting little.

“I often think about the fact that when I’m gone, nobody will remember them. Maybe that’s why I went overboard with that.” He jerked his head in the direction of The Wall that overshadowed all else in the space. “While I’m still alive, I feel like I have a responsibility to keep them alive. If I don’t, no one else will. It would be as if my entire family had never existed.”

“I think…” Vicki picked her words carefully. “I feel like you’re keeping them alive at the expense of living, Ty. There has to be a balance. Can you tell me why you keep people at a distance?”

“It’s easier than losing them.”

“You’d rather be lonely than risk losing someone?”

“I’m not lonely.” The defensive note in his voice saddened her.

“Aren’t you?”

He didn’t reply and instead directed his brooding gaze down at his wine again.

She let it go, even though she still had so much else left to say.

“Do you know who you’ll be assigned to after moving on from me?”

Ty inwardly scoffed at her words. As if he’d ever be able to move on from her.

He shook his head in answer to her question. “I’m getting a promotion. I’ll be the new recruitment, training, and development manager.”

“That sounds amazing, are you happy about it?”

“Yeah. I didn’t want to do this anymore. It’s not for me. It’s always been more of a stopgap. I did the work required of me. And I’d like to think I did it well, although there were a few moments with you—and Lally before you—when I felt incompetent as fuck. I’m much better suited in a recruitment capacity. I’m good at reading people. And I have so many ideas about overhauling our training program as well.”

He felt a swell of excitement when he spoke about it—detailing the changes he wanted to put into effect.

“You’ve thought about this a lot.”

“I’ll finally be putting my degree to use. I majored in communications with minors in criminal justice and human resources. Meanwhile, the training aspect of the job will put my—shall we say—other skills to good use as well.”

“Human resources? Communication?” The skepticism in her voice was valid, considering everything she knew about him, and he shifted his shoulders uncomfortably.

“The original plan was to pursue a law degree. I even completed the LSATs in my senior year. But it never really felt like the right fit for me. I think I was over-achieving because I wanted to somehow make up for Tanner’s loss. He had been the ambitious one. A pre-med student who wanted to be a pediatric surgeon. He was the golden boy, and I was happy to let him be.

“After he died…I placed the weight of that expectation on my own shoulders. My parents didn’t put any pressure on me. They just wanted me to be happy. I somehow convinced them—and myself—that I wanted to be criminal lawyer. Then I fucking cracked under the pressure.

“When Dylan joined the marines, I followed him. And I’m pretty sure I broke my parents’ hearts. They never said as much. Always said they were proud of me, no matter what, but I know they were terrified for me.”

He stopped talking, self-conscious about dumping so much unasked for information on her. She was staring at him thoughtfully, plucking her lower lip between her thumb and forefinger in a manner that drove him to distraction. Plumping the lip and then releasing it. Plumping and releasing.

She must have noticed him staring, because her fingers paused in the movement, forcing him to lift his gaze to meet hers.

“You’re looking very hungry for a man who just ate, Ty,” she said in a low, throaty voice.

“Are you…are we…could we…” Jesus, so much for being smooth and suave. He was a blubbering wreck.

“I am. We are. We could…we will.”

He groaned, so damned hot for her he feared he would spontaneously combust at any moment.

“But no more of this your-terms-only crap.”

“What do you suggest?”

The poor guy sounded petrified. She suspected he feared she would make unreasonable demands of him. But she was very much aware that until they returned from Cape Town, he was still doing a job, and she wasn’t about to jeopardize his reputation.

“You know what I want, Ty. I want to touch you, to make you feel good. I want more than we had before. But not more than you’re willing to give. You have to want it too. Everything else still stands. No hanky-panky when you’re on duty, and—if you still want it—this ends after November.”