Protect Me Not ((Un)Professionally Yours 2)

“I’m allergic to bees,” he told her and she suppressed a sigh. Their short walk had consisted mostly of Teddy listing the things he was allergic to. Included on the list so far were pollen, sunscreen—which explained why he currently resembled a broiled lobster—bird dander, and now, bee stings.

“If you’re allergic to all of these things,” she said, picking her words very carefully, not wanting to appear critical. “Why did you want to meet here? This is clearly not a very pleasant experience for you.”

His face was bright red and gleaming with sweat, he seemed to be having difficulty breathing because of all the pollen in the air, and now he was plainly terrified that he’d be stung by one of the very many bees buzzing around the gardens.

She led him to a nearby bench, and Teddy lowered himself onto it with some relief, even though his eyes kept flicking around, probably on the lookout for bees.

“So what’s the story with the big guy?” he asked, broaching the subject almost tentatively. “Is he some kind of bodyguard or something?”

He laughed as he asked the question, clearly intending it to be a joke of some sort, but his eyes widened, when she wrinkled her nose and gave him a sheepish grin.

“Pretty much, yes.” She told him about the store invasion last year, and Miles’s reaction to it. He nodded, but looked dazed and a little panicky as he—yet again—glanced over at Ty, who stood behind them, trying and failing to seem unobtrusive.

Vicki sighed, recognizing that uneasy expression. When he swatted at a wasp and then look appalled when he realized what it was, she shook her head. It was time to put the poor man out of his misery. “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.”

He didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “Probably not. I-I thought we’d meet at the café and have lunch and talk. But I should have known…I mean, it’s a garden. You’d want to stroll. Obviously, you’d want that. I didn’t think it through.” His smile was filled with regret.

Vicki leaned over to pat his hand reassuringly. “It’s okay, Teddy…” Ugh, Ty was right. Teddy was a ridiculous name for a full-grown man. “I spend my life around flowers, and with you being allergic to pollen, even a friendship between us would be challenging.”

He laughed grimly. “Talk about doomed from the start.”

They shared a warm smile. He leaned over and gave her a chaste peck on the cheek. “Goodbye, Vicki.”

“Goodbye, Teddy.” She remained seated when he pushed to his feet. He nodded and swiveled on his foot to head for the closest exit.

She leaned back against the bench and watched an adorable curly-haired toddler reach out toward a butterfly that flitted away before she could make contact. The child squealed in delight, and her parents laughed, before leading her away.

She really loved this place. The fresh, green smell of it, the cheerful noise of the crowds, the buzzing insects. It was her happy place.

She looked over her shoulder at Ty. He had a puzzled frown on his face as he watched Teddy walk away. When the angle of his head changed, she knew—despite those dark glasses—that he was staring at her.

She smiled at him and patted the bench next to her, inviting him to come and sit with her, despite knowing he wouldn’t.

His lips thinned and his head cocked quizzically.

His balance shifted from one foot to the other, and then he shocked the hell out of her when—without seeming to give it much thought at all—he took a faltering step toward her and then another…and another. Until all hesitation was gone, and he was seated beside her, his bulk taking up most of the space on the wooden bench.

“Will he be back?” he asked, straightening his legs and crossing them at the ankles. His arms were stretched out along the back of the bench.

“He’s allergic to bees, and pollen, and maybe even fresh air. He’s very nice but I don’t think we’re compatible.”

“I could have told you that on Thursday,” he scoffed. “So, he just bailed on you? That’s a dick move.”

“I don’t mind. I’m happy here.”

“Yeah. I know.”

The silence that lapsed between them was companionable and filled with the ambient noise of the gardens—birds chirping, people talking and laughing, humming insects—the familiarity comforted her. She was very aware of his hand, a couple of inches away from her bare shoulder, but he didn’t make any attempt to touch her.

“I’m sorry,” he said. The words were quiet and drifted into the clamoring stillness between them. She turned to stare at his strong profile, admiring that perfect nose and jaw for a moment.

“For what?” she asked after a few moments, when it became apparent that he was not going to elaborate on that cryptic apology. He moved his sunglasses to the top of his head and pinned her with those devastating eyes.