Page 27 of Loving at 40

His eyes narrow in on me. He’s been drinking all day, and that should scare me, but it doesn’t. There’s a certain gleam to his eyes as I offer him a taste of my ice cream, and he gradually leans forward in his seat, lowering his elbows to his thighs. His mouth opens, and I hold the cone closer to his mouth. He sucks at the tip I’ve made from my last bite, and I watch as his tongue lazily laps over his lower lip, swiping up the residue left behind. There’s no doubt I’m wet, but in a place I’m hot enough to melt this cold cream. Cleanup in the freezer aisle.

Archer keeps his eyes on me, and I return the ice cream treat to my own mouth, licking around the portion where he just took a bite. I don’t have the chance to swipe at my own lips before Archer scoots forward on his seat.

“You’ve got something…” His thumb finishes the sentence by brushing over the lower swell of my mouth. Then he does the damnedest thing. He forces his thumb into my mouth, and I suck at the sticky mess. The corner of his mouth tips higher.

“You also have something…” His index finger swipes over my upper lip, and he brings his finger to his own mouth next, setting the tip against his lips and licking it clean. This motion could have taken a split second—like those moments as a mom when you lick your finger to rub a smudge off something on your kid’s face. But Archer drags it out long enough that the cleanup I requested in the freezer aisle is almost a flood.

My entire body vibrates from watching a man lick ice cream off his finger. Or maybe it’s that he put his thumb in my mouth. Or bit the cold cream in a way I imagine he’d take a bite out of me. I’m so hot for him it’s ridiculous, and if there wasn’t a backyard of people, I have no doubt I’d be throwing myself at him.

This is old-school Jenna 101. No holds barred. No holding back.

But I refrain. I’m a mother now. I’m a responsible adult. I don’t kiss and tell. Those days of sex and regret are gone.

But Archer . . . just Jesus, please.

“Still mad at me,” I mutter, checking that no one can hear me.

“Aren’t you the one angry with me?” Those are the most words he’s said to me all night.

With a deep exhale of remorse, I apologize. “I’m sorry for what I said.” I lock onto his eyes.

“For what you thought.” He narrows his.

“For what I suggested,” I clarify. “I’m overprotective and overreacted.”

The words aren’t enough. I didn’t really think Archer would do something inappropriate to my daughters. He surprised me. Taking care of my girls and letting me sleep off a migraine—the gesture was sweet—and my reaction unwarranted. Without all the facts, I acted on a gut response, not a logical one. Archer wouldn’t physically hurt me or them. I’m confident of that. My heart, on the other hand, is blinking in warning. A man looking after me when I ache. A man watching over my kids when I can’t. It’s like a mismatched blend of ice cream, mixing all I want and all I can’t have in one tempting treat.

Archer seems to understand and hums. Tipping up his chin, he says, “I’ll have to think about how you can make it up to me.” The grin he gives me is a wicked promise of retribution. He’s going to collect, and the pleasure might be all mine.

Yep, I’m done. I want to pour this melting ice cream all over me, and I wonder if he’d lap it up if I did.

11

[Archer]

I miss my bedfellow that night and find myself wandering to the couch under cover of darkness, curling up behind Jenna while she sleeps.

“Archer, what are you doing?” she mumbles into the back cushions as she faces them.

“Just want to hold you, babe.” I hadn’t missed how she flinched when I first touched her during dinner. When that prick, Mason, hit on her, asking her out for a drink. I can no longer decide if he wants to get with my sister or get back in Jenna’s pants. Apparently, he’s been there before, and I don’t like it. Not one bit. Then she apologized. Her original accusation stung, but I accepted her sincerity. She went into mama-bear mode, and I can respect her position. The strange new reality for me is I’d kill someone who harmed those little girls.

“Don’t want me touching you?” I mutter into her scented hair, inhaling the fruity freshness and finding myself relaxing after twenty-four hours of tension. I don’t know how she’s doing this—having this power over me. I want to be close to her. I want to hold her. I want to inhale her, breathe her in. She smells clean—like innocence, comfort, and a place I can only dream of calling home—which is a weird thought. After two years with Viviana and her high-priced perfume, I didn’t think I’d ever be able to unclog my nose of the stuff or her strong stench of money and privilege.

“I didn’t say that,” Jenna sleepily whispers. I’d like to take her to my bed where we have more room to spread out, but the tight conditions of the couch might be better. She can’t slip away from me on the slim depth of this seat.

“This okay with you, then?” I mutter into her hair. With my arm over her waist, she doesn’t move. She doesn’t scoot away, but she doesn’t melt into me like she’s done on other nights. I recall her tugging me to her, clinging to my shirt. Her leg over my hip and my hand under her thigh. Fuck, I want this woman. I want her in this position and over me and under me.

Slowly, she relaxes and rubs her hand up my forearm, leading my hand to her upper chest until my palm rests right over her heart. Fuck, I like this position. I like feeling her heartbeat, and it hits me. It’s more than wanting her. She could eclipse me. Her light could brighten my darkness. Someone like her could restore a poor man’s spirit and allow him to believe he can deserve someone good, happy, and whole.

Just be.

Be home.

I haven’t lost someone like Anna has, but I want my leg functioning and my job back. I feel just as empty inside as my sister but from a different kind of loss. Jenna might miss her husband, but she isn’t hollow like Anna. Jenna still laughs. She teases. She offers a spark of life, tempting even me to want to be a better person. Showing me what I’ve been missing, and just might need in my life—the love and understanding of a good woman.

Fuck, I’m delusional.

Jenna quickly falls back asleep while I remain restless. My dreams are filled with the wrong woman.