Protect Me Not ((Un)Professionally Yours 2)

This just felt so manipulative, and she didn’t know if she was more pissed off with Miles or with Ty.

“Are you going to tell me what number?” she asked him. “Or are you just going to let me stand in the corridor all evening?”

“Are those my only options?”

“Chance.”

“I don’t know why you’re so pissed off about this but allow me to remind you that it’s bad form to shoot the messenger,” he groused, pointing toward number 302.

Giving herself no time to think about what she would say to him, Vicki rang the doorbell. The soft melodic chime that she heard through the door didn’t suit her foul mood, and she followed it up with several loud bangs with the side of her fist.

Ty was looking forward to a night in, with some beers and a movie. The last thing he wanted, or expected, was company. But the knocking on his door was obnoxious and persistent.

“Okay, okay, I’m coming. Hold your damned horses,” he growled and yanked open the door.

Vicki.

Ty did not know who he had been expecting to find on his doorstep, but Vicki Hollingsworth was the last person he thought he’d see.

His gaze bounced from her to Chance, who stood towering above her with an apologetic look on his face.

“Crikey, I’m sorry, mate. I couldn’t stop her.”

What the fuck was going on? How did Vicki even know he lived here? And why the hell did she seem so pissed off? She was bristling so much, her curls looked like they were about to throw off sparks.

“Why didn’t you tell me you lived here, Ty?” She launched right in there with her apparent grievance. Her face was flushed, eyes snapping, and teeth gritted. “Did my brother tell you to keep it from me? Or your boss? Was it to make your spying on me a little easier?”

“Contrary to what your massive ego might assume, Ms. H…the world does not revolve around you. I live here. It’s my private residence and, as such, you had no business knowing where it was situated.”

“You could have mentioned it.”

Ty had spent practically every waking moment since that near kiss on Thursday, mooning over her. Thinking about what might-have-been. When all he should have been focused on was what-actually-was. And that—combined with his outrage that she would come to his home to fling these unfounded accusations at him—led to him uncharacteristically replying without taking a moment to consider his words.

“What in our acquaintance has led you to believe I would divulge such private information about myself to you? We aren’t friends. We’re barely acquaintances. I’ve told you this time and time again, you’re a job. You do not need to know where I live. Or who I date. What I eat. My likes or dislikes. You’re a paycheck. That’s it. And I would appreciate it if you’d just stop trying to pry into my fucking life.”

“Ty, come on, man,” Chance interrupted quietly, snapping Ty out his ice-cold rage. It didn’t help that his very first reaction upon seeing her on his doorstep had been wild, unexpected joy. Or that he had instantly noticed how pretty she looked in the flowery, flowy dress she was wearing. It had made him feel vulnerable. Stripped of his usual defenses. And immediately finding himself on the receiving end of her ridiculous tirade had fucking hurt.

“Shit.” He heard his own words echoing back at him. Heard the ugliness in his voice. The vicious pleasure he had taken in putting her in her place while also reminding himself exactly how things stood between them.

Everything he’d said had been aimed at himself as much as at her.

Only, while he deserved the harshness for having the temerity to forget himself and his position in her life…she really didn’t.

“Vicki—” He forced himself to look at her then winced when he saw the tears brimming in those huge gray eyes. He had done that. Made her cry. And he hated himself for it. “I—”

“You’re right,” she whispered, her voice raw. She swiped impatiently at her cheek when a tear escaped. “I’m sorry. I should have respected your privacy. I was just angry. Maybe angrier at Miles than at you. I…”

She shook her head, dislodging another tear, and he made a dismayed sound in the back of his throat.

I made her cry. Every protective instinct flared to life as he fought against the urge to gather her in his arms and make it better for her. Twisted as fuck, when he was the one from whom she needed protecting right now.

“I’m sorry for intruding.” She was still talking, her voice devoid of its usual liveliness. “I was going to ask Chance to give this to you. But I got distracted by…uh, everything.”

She fumbled around in that ridiculous bag of hers until she withdrew a clear plastic box. Inside was a tiny arrangement of white flowers.