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Bob wasn’t surprised the lads had started hanging about the garage; he could hardly blame him what with his lovelies about. Emerson had made a habit of haunting the place since Bob had taken McKenna under his wing, though Kavan wasn’t there near as often as Bob thought he should be. Other members of the squadron had drifted through on occasion as well, depending on which lovely was currently under Bob’s tutelage. So no, it wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. He was just a bit shocked that this bloke had shown up quite so soon.
His new little red-headed mouse hadn’t been one of his lovelies for more than a few days or so, but it was undoubtedly Freddy this Major Stockbridge had come to see. Bob didn’t have to turn around to see just where the bloke’s gaze had landed; he knew damned well it was on the little mouse hip deep in an engine with his Victorian born lovely explaining to her how to switch out a pair of spark plugs.
Bob shifted himself over a hair, putting his not-inconsiderable height directly into the toff’s line of sight, quietly considering how the man reacted to it. To his credit, the other man didn’t seem too threatened by the head mechanic. Lesser men had retreated on sight. Still, Bob wasn’t planning on going out of his way to make the other bloke comfortable. Nor was he planning on letting the man get close to his mouse just yet.
Miss Church had done her best to be discreet when she came round and asked Bob to take Freddy under his wing – Jez rightly hadn’t told him any story that wasn’t hers to tell, but Bob could read between the lines well enough. Whether she was just painfully shy or actually suffering from some past abuse didn’t really matter to Bob. The bottom line was that the little mouse needed a place she could go to avoid any unwanted attention, and Bob could certainly offer her that.
Bless her, she’d been a bit intimidated by the head mechanic on first meeting, but Captain Rivers had handled that with ease, laughing a little and telling the younger woman to just think of Bob as the family mastiff – large and fierce but cuddly with his favorites. Freddy had giggled and mentioned something about a “Brutus,” and that had been that. McKenna had made the younger woman’s transition easier, drawing her out little by little, and making it clear that McKenna trusted Bob to be the perfect gentleman. Bob had a feeling that it was damned near impossible to doubt the lady’s judgment on that sort of thing. He certainly couldn’t.
Regardless of why Freddy’d become one of his, she now was, and that meant the bloke in front of him would have to deal with Bob if he wanted to get close to her. And today, that just wasn’t going to happen.
“Did you need something?”
“Just wondered if I could have a word with Corporal Herlihy,” the other man replied with what Bob was sure was intended to be a charming smile. It wasn’t particularly.
“She’s in the middle of something. No reason to interrupt her. Least not that I can see.” Bob kept his voice casual, but deliberately folded his arms across his chest, making it clear he didn’t plan to move any time soon.
Stockbridge’s smile faltered for a moment, but then he pasted it back on with a careless air.
“Well then, no point in lingering, is there?”
“Suppose not.”
The bloke almost seemed to hesitate, as if he might try to approach the young lady despite Bob’s imposing presence. Then he clearly thought better off it, and turned away and left the garage.
Bob watched to make sure he’d really left and then turned to check on the two lovelies and the 4x4 they were working on. Freddy was half turned his way, an anxious look on her face though she tried to hide it. He smiled back softly, and approached, sidestepping any question she might ask by leaning in over the engine and starting up a commentary on the lovelies’ work thus far.
Freddy held on her anxiety for just a little longer, but slowly relaxed in response to his easy questions and McKenna’s soft laughter. Eventually she was even laughing herself.
Bob mused that it was probably for the best that Stockbridge had buggered off for the moment. If he’d seen the little mouse all smiles and a spot of grease on her cheek, he’d have likely never left, mastiff at the door be damned.