Page 89 of Loving at 40

“Noted,” Archer says. “But there isn’t going to be any trouble.” His statement is just as clear. He’s here to protect me. I relax a little under his arm, and he reads my body language.

He unclasps hands with Leon, then presses a kiss to my temple.

“Let’s get out of this place.”

35

[Archer]

I’d nearly had a fucking heart attack when I opened Jenna’s front door and saw Mason Becker standing on the stoop. I don’t even recall what I said, but I’m certain “fuck” and “no” were in the sentence. Now I have Jenna sitting opposite me in a little restaurant we found called Unsalted Mermaid. The place is quiet and dim and rather empty on this winter evening. From where we sit, the black lake glistens under a dark sky outside the window.

Jenna worried about Mason, but I told her he’d already bailed.

“What a horrible date he is,” she teased. “He ditched me.”

I would have taken the comment to heart, but she was joking, looking lighter than I’ve seen her since we kissed in the hallway until Leon interrupted us. I can’t place him, but I’m certain him calling me officer means I arrested him at some point in the past.

Once we place our drink order, I don’t like my position across the table from her and shift to the chair next to her at the four top where seats are arranged two and two at the table.

“What are you doing?” she asks, giggling at my seating re-arrangement.

“I need to be close to you.” With my arm over the back of her seat, my hand cups the back of her head, and I draw her to me for a soft kiss. I’m practically vibrating to be hard and fast with her again, but I’m asking her for patience, and I’m trying to tame mine. Damn that Leon Ramirez for interrupting us in the hallway, but making out with Jenna at a school function probably isn’t appropriate for her, and I have some making up to do where I need more privacy. This restaurant is a start because I meant what I said. I wanted a do-over on that failed date from last summer.

“Were you trying to get rid of me earlier with that night off crap?” I don’t want a night off. I fucking want a night with her. While every night this week has been dinner with the girls and a television series Jenna wanted to watch, we haven’t talked much. I promised we’d discuss my job, and we hadn’t.

“I really meant it. You deserved a break. You’ve done so much for me this week.”

It wasn’t nearly enough and not even close to what I wanted to do for her. “What about Mason? How did he end up here?” Fucking Mason.

“Four Points donated to the silent auction, and I thought Mason might enjoy the dinner. He has built homes for some of the more prestigious families in the community. I didn’t want to go alone and thought it’d be a business move for him to be seen.” Her voice drops.

“Jenna, I’m here for you. I could have gone with you.”

She shrugs. “But I already had it set up with Mason before you reappeared, and I didn’t want to explain what you were doing here. In case . . .”

“In case what?”

“In case you left again.” She lifts her glass of wine to her lips.

“’Locks,” I whisper, watching her take a drink. My mouth waters to lick up the column of her throat as she swallows down the wine. I don’t want her worrying I’m a disappearing act waiting to happen. I don’t want her thinking I’m going to leave, but I’ll need to prove my staying power. “You’re not alone.”

“Tell me more about this leave of absence.” I hadn’t meant to blurt it out like I did earlier, but Leon was pushing me.

“As I told you, I’m done with the Quintero case. I’d been put on a year-long furlough for medical purposes—both my physical condition and my mental instability. I was so pissed off that I’d been shot and angry that Viviana had gotten away.” Not to mention that she’s the one who shot me, which I did sort of deserve from her. “After this last stint, which wasn’t planned, Vi is gone. Her family’s business cut off, at least for the moment. But I also don’t have clearance to return to the field. Physically, I’m not good.” I tap my thigh. “And mentally, I can’t handle a desk job. I don’t want to just push papers.”

Jenna’s quiet for a long minute. “I can’t see you settling down in one place for long.” She cautiously looks at me. “If you can’t handle a desk job, you won’t want to sit still anywhere.”

She means here, but she’s wrong. I curl a lock of her hair around my finger.

“Jenna. I’m tired. I’ve been at this gig for fifteen-plus years, and the Quintero case took a toll. A big one. Mentally. Physically. My moral compass was going off-kilter. My faith in humanity was breaking down. I needed to get that job over, but it also taught me a valuable lesson. It’s time to step away. Let the younger guys tackle things, if you will, but it’s really more about me.” I heave out a breath. “I want a life. One that’s my own and not deemed by the department. Not one where I’m on stage and no longer recognize myself.”

Jenna nods, placing her elbow on the table to shift her upper body and face me.

“Tell me more about the department. What made you decide to become a police officer?”

I tilt my head. I’ve been playing with the ends of her hair throughout my explanation, feeling more grounded by touching her.

“You really want to hear this?” Our food has arrived, but neither of us is eager to dig into the pasta dish yet.