Page 92 of Let Me Love You

“What? It’s not even midnight.”

He shrugs. “I don’t wanna be hungover tomorrow.”

“Well, that’s the whole point. It’s how you know you had a fantastic birthday.”

“So what do you do?” Cain asks me from my other side.

I turn toward him, thanking him for the drink. “I own Ever After. That adorable boutique in the downtown district.”

“Oh, my little sister loves that place.”

“You should bring her in sometime. I’ll hook her up!”

“Thanks. She’d love that.” He flashes a white smile. “Then maybe we could hang out after? Grab some dinner and drinks?”

Bingo.

Archer’s hand finds my waist, and he makes it obvious that he’s squeezing my hip.

“I’d love that. Let me give you my number so you can let me know when you’re comin’.”

Cain hands me his phone, and I input my digits while Archer’s jealous eyes peek over my shoulder.

“Cool, thanks.” He pockets his phone, then looks past me. “Oh, hey, Archer. Happy Birthday, man.”

When I spin around, Archer looks like he wants to stab Cain with his empty beer bottle.

“Hey, Cain. Thanks. Glad you could make it. Didn’t bring the wife tonight?”

My heart drops. Wife?

“Nah, kept her home with the kids.”

Kids?! Oh my God.

“You’re married with children?”

“Yeah. I heard you liked married men.” He winks.

“Wow.” I blow out a breath, feeling humiliated and angry. I slept with one man who ended up being married, and now I’m pegged as a homewrecker. “You better be glad I don’t punch your face in and make a scene.”

“Archer, control your bitch. Jesus,” Cain spits out.

My eyes widen, and before I can do anything about it, Archer pulls me to the side. His fist twists tightly in Cain’s shirt.

“Archer, don’t,” I say firmly. He can’t afford to get into any trouble while on parole. They won’t think twice about locking him up again. “He’s not worth it.”

“No, but you are,” he mutters, then drives his fist into Cain’s gut.

Cain doubles over, and Smith stands between them. “Cain, leave. Now,” he orders, then looks at us. “Archer, not cool.”

There’s a fire in Archer’s eyes, a rage I’ve never seen before, and it’s a little frightening. I only meant to make him jealous, not for him to knock the breath out of the guy.

Without another word, Archer sets a stack of twenties on the bar, then makes his way to the door. I quickly follow, feeling guilty as hell.

“Archer, wait,” I plead, rushing in my heels and hoping I don’t twist an ankle. “Hold on, I can’t run in these.”

“What the fuck were you thinking, Everleigh?” he snaps and turns around. His hands are still balled into fists as if he’s ready to fight.