Page 87 of Loving at 40

Ah, that might be the connection.

“Was DEA most recently. I’m on a leave of absence.”

This is the first I’ve heard of such a thing, but I’m still volleying back and forth between these men who know one another before I catch Tricia’s eye. She looks just as confused as I do. Finally, I glance up at Mason, still holding the back of my chair. Behind him, a woman flapping her arms rushes toward our table.

“Don’t you worry. We’ll find another chair and get an extra place setting right over here,” the harried woman says out of breath. Archer smiles at the woman, and her flapping arms settle to fingertips at the edge of her lips. She lets out a strangled giggle. In another second, she’ll be choking on her drool. Then she catches sight of Mason, and I’m worried she’s about to hyperventilate.

Finally, she speaks. “Mr. McCaryn just made a generous donation to the school’s English Department, and he insisted he sit at this table.”

Her eyes move from Mason to Archer before landing on me. She’s probably wondering what all the fuss is, and so am I. These two men need their heads knocked together. However, I don’t need either one to make a scene. I’m already the focus of attention at this table filled with people I work with, plus Leon glaring at Archer.

“How do you know Leon?” I whisper.

“Later, ’Locks,” he whispers, keeping his eyes on Leon a second before turning his gaze to me.

“What are you doing here?” I hiss, leaning toward him like I’m telling him a secret. Archer leans in the same way, placing his cheek next to mine and lowering his rugged voice as best as he can.

“I didn’t have a real date with you, and I’ll be damned if I let him have one first.”

“Whose fault—”

Archer holds up a hand to halt my accusation. “Mine.” He pauses a second. “But I’m here now.”

“Mason is my date,” I whisper, trying to stay quiet myself while all eyes remain on me, including Mason, who is still standing behind me, gripping the back of my chair.

“You know what, I need to make a call.” Mason pats my shoulder, and I look up at him.

“Mason.” I shift in my seat, but he’s already working his way around the crowded tables, waving at someone he knows. He’s built several million-dollar houses in the area, and my dream is to afford the type of homes he constructs one day.

A hand comes to my knee under the table, and I stare down at it before looking up at Archer. Nothing in his expression shows chagrin or apology for his sudden appearance or his behavior.

“Excuse me. I think I’ll use the restroom before dinner.” I hastily stand, knocking into the table with my knee before squeezing through the tight fit between chairs. As I weave around the too-close tables, I sense someone following me but slip into the bathroom before he catches me. Taking a moment, I stare at my reflection in the bright mirror.

What is he doing? What am I doing? A thrill races through me that Archer actually followed me, but I’m equally embarrassed that he made a scene. And what’s the deal with Leon? I hate that so many questions remain between Archer and me. Nothing makes sense with him. Not his attraction last summer. Not his presence now. With that thought in mind, I open the bathroom door with more force than intended and find Archer standing in the dim hallway directly across from the bathroom.

“What are you doing here?” I lash out at him.

“I told you. I want my date.”

I huff and cross my arms as he’s the one who disappeared that night, and he’s hardly offered an explanation now. I mean, I know why he was gone, but why is he back? Why is he here?

“How many other men do I need to chase off, ’Locks?”

My mouth falls open. “Just what are you implying?”

“I’m gonna be pissed if the list is more than one.”

“I . . .” I don’t even know what to say. Then again, I have a whole litany of things I’d like to tell him, like where he can shove his implication.

“I understand if you had to do something to pass the time, but that’s over.” His eyes lower to my legs, and I don’t think my mouth can gape any wider.

“I have not . . . how dare you . . .” I have not slept with someone else in the time since I’ve been with him. He knows he was my first since Ryan, and he’ll be my last for a long time. I can’t handle the heartache attached to sleeping with someone, and I don’t want anyone but him. However, this argument has me reconsidering my attraction for half a second.

“Have you been with someone else?” I fight the gag reflex at the thought of him sleeping with that woman or any other woman since we’ve been together.

“Are you insane?” His eyes roam my body, and if I didn’t know better, he just mentally stripped me of my dress. His voice hardens when he says, “Are you done yet?”

“Am I done with what?” I growl.