Protect Me Not ((Un)Professionally Yours 2)

She groaned and allowed herself a moment longer to luxuriate in self-pity and embarrassment, before pushing herself up from the commode.

Pull up those big girl panties, Victoria. And tell the man you’re sorry. Nothing to it.

Easy for Nan to say. She wasn’t the one who had to face him.

Vicki had been in the bathroom for a while. Ty could hear muffled voices coming from the other side of the door and surmised that she was probably on a call. That, or completely off her rocker. But he was happy to give her the benefit of the doubt.

The coffee was percolating—Vicki had one of those old, drip coffee makers. Nothing like the state-of-the-art silver monstrosity she and Hugh had in their penthouse kitchen. The ancient coffee maker had surprised Ty at first. With Vicki’s background, he had expected her to have nothing but the best. But Ty had quickly learned that most of the expensive bells and whistles in the apartment were courtesy of Hugh, who used his monthly five-figure income at the family company to spare no expense when it came to his own comfort.

Vicki was more frugal and neither of her brothers had any financial stake in her business. Everything in the shop had been earned through hard work and determination. Ty admired that about her. She worked her ass off to make ends meet and keep her shop afloat.

He heard the toilet flush and the faucet run, and took that as a signal to get her coffee poured. Black, two sugars.

The door opened and her head popped out, her eyes searching, as if she were looking for him. She spotted him immediately, of course—there weren’t many places to hide in the small space—and blushed.

Huh, odd. Why the blush?

“Get it while it’s hot,” he invited, holding up her favorite mug. A huge tacky thing, sporting a cartoon man on his knees in the front of an angry woman. The words “keep calm and buy her flowers” were painted in bold, colorful print above the comical figures.

She stepped out of the bathroom, her movements tentative, and reached for the mug with both hands. She mumbled thank you. Her eyes were downcast, and she was clearly discomfited by something.

Ty backed away, giving her some space, and returned to the coffee maker to pour himself a cup as well.

He busied himself with sugar and the atrocious creamer she stocked—he usually took his coffee black—but sensed that she needed time. He kept his back to her, and waited for her to speak.

He was aware of her every move and knew the exact moment she sat down behind her desk. Her movements betrayed by the squeak of the wheel as she moved the chair forward, followed by the protesting creak of a spring when she settled her light weight into the seat.

He waited for the soft thump of the mug on the wooden surface of the desk, before turning to face her again.

He took a sip of coffee—shit, he shouldn’t have added that disgusting creamer—and leaned back against the countertop. He crossed his legs at the ankles and observed her silently.

She shuffled paper back and forth across the desk without any real purpose, and Ty suppressed a sigh. She would get nothing done at this rate, best to just confront her about whatever the hell was bothering her.

Not one for beating around the bush, he just came straight out and asked. “What’s up?”

She froze, her restless hands quieting. “What do you mean?”

Still no eye contact.

“Something’s clearly bugging you. If it was work related, you’d dig right in and get it done, but the fact that you’re very determinedly avoiding my eyes tells me it’s something to do with me.”

“That was Bella. On the phone…just now, in the bathroom.”

“Okay?”

“She uhm…” She finally lifted her eyes to meet his and she looked so damned miserable, Ty made a quiet, dismayed sound. Shit, was she going to cry? He had never seen her cry. He didn’t want that. He could cope with most situations, but fuck if he knew what to do with a crying woman.

She tilted her chin defensively before continuing. “She told me what I did to you. On Saturday night. I’m so so sorry, Ty. It was completely unacceptable behavior.”

What?

“I’m not sure I follow,” he said, and her eyes shadowed.

“I touched you inappropriately.”

Ty stifled an exasperated groan as he recalled the moment she had to be referring to. For a second, he wondered why the fuck Bella had chosen to tell her about it. Then bit back a curse when he realized that there was only one reason she would possibly mention the otherwise unremarkable moment. And that would be to talk about Ty’s response to it.

Fuck.

“It was nothing. You were drunk. No harm done.”

“Being drunk is no excuse. A man wouldn’t be expected to get away with such behavior just because he happened to have a few drinks, and neither should a woman be.”