Chapter Nineteen

Two weeks later, on a gorgeous Saturday afternoon in early May, Della pushed open the heavy door to The Lumberjack. She was in a T-shirt and a light fluttery skirt that came to just above her knee, because the sun was shining but also because she loved the way Tucker’s eyes heated when he looked at the hem of any skirt she was wearing, as if he was calculating how easily he could slide his hand under.

She hadn’t come to the bar since starting her…tryst with Tucker because she hadn’t yet perfected a way to interact with him that didn’t betray how much she wanted to tear the clothes from his body. Especially since the night she’d gone down on him.

And what a night.

She’d asked him not to hold back, and he’d given her everything. He’d unleashed. Like he had that night in Denver. No propriety, not boundaries. Only it had been better because this time he hadn’t stopped abruptly. He’d let her feel the full force of his arousal. When he’d ripped her top and entered her with one hard, decisive thrust, even his lack of protection hadn’t mattered. She had an implant, and the way he’d hammered her had been exactly what she’d wanted.

And the sex they’d had since then… Lordy! She’d learned so much.

About the act itself but about Tucker most of all. She’d learned all his sensitive spots—what made his breath hitch, what made him groan, and what made him say fuuuuuck.

But it wasn’t just sex she’d learned about since getting involved with Tucker. She’d learned that he liked cilantro but didn’t like carrots, that he loved audio and electronic books but preferred to get his news in printed format. She’d learned about his travels before he came back to Credence a decade ago, that he was a closet The Bachelorette junkie, and that the only thing he’d run back into a burning house to save was his hot pot.

And that he hogged the bed.

He’d spent every night with her since they’d first gone all the way and had even left a small backpack in her room with some basic changes of clothes. His toothbrush sat next to hers in the cup on top of the vanity. They were practically living together.

In secret.

Della knew it couldn’t last. That sooner or later he’d remind her this was meant to only be a temporary thing and call it a day. Just a few nights ago, she’d mentioned she was going to delete the Tinder app from her phone, and Tucker had been adamant she didn’t.

Keep it for after, he’d suggested, and she’d acquiesced so he’d stop insisting, but she hadn’t looked at it in weeks and she wasn’t planning on looking at it ever again.

Maybe she wouldn’t have to.

Maybe the longer they were together, he’d forget about after.

As if he knew she was thinking about him, Tucker glanced up from behind the bar, giving her a thorough once-over. Jack’s was about half full, but suddenly Della felt like the only person in the room as his eyes lingered on the hem of her skirt. His nostrils flared, and her heart skipped a beat.

How did he do that? Set her on fire from so far away?

“Della. There you are.”

Dragging her eyes off the hunk of man who had eaten some of Annie’s peach cobbler off her stomach last night—he’d brought two: one for them, one for Mrs. Doyle—she turned to find Rosemary sitting in a booth opposite two men who appeared to be in their fifties. She’d asked Della to come to Jack’s today to meet her sons, and Della had agreed readily.

That was before she realized just how transparent she really was around Tucker. Too many more incendiary stares like that and their cover would be blown.

Rosemary waved her over. “I’m so glad you could make it.”

Della smiled as she slipped in beside Rosemary. The two men opposite were tall and handsome like their mama, with gray wings in their hair and tanned, craggy faces. A couple of Stetsons sat on the table in front of them next to their empty beer glasses.

“This is Jethro and Clay,” Rosemary said, indicating who was who. Clay seemed younger than his brother by a few years.

“Nice to meet you,” Della said, shaking hands with both men, who smiled in greeting.

It was hard not to reflect in this moment on how far she’d come in the last three years. In the last year, really, since Arlo had set up the job at the old folks’ home. She’d have shrunk from any man offering his hand when she’d first moved to Credence. But with therapy and Arlo giving her a gentle push, she’d come a long way.

She owed Arlo a lot.

“Can I get you anything from the bar?” Clay asked politely, collecting his and his brother’s glasses.

Della glanced up to find Tucker’s eyes on her. He was talking to a customer, but his eyes were fixed firmly in her direction. “Yes please, Clay.” I’ll have the hot dude behind the bar. She returned her attention to Rosemary’s son. “A piña colada.” Her blue eyes flicked to the bar again, clashing with the heat and intensity of whiskey. “Tucker knows how I like it.”

“Ooh. I’ll have one of those, too.” Rosemary drained her half glass of white wine in three swallows and passed it to her son. “Tell Tucker I’ll have what she’s having.”

Jethro blinked. “You want a cocktail? At two in the afternoon?”

Rosemary did not blink. “Yes.”

Clay seemed as nonplussed as his brother by the obviously out-of-character request but departed without further comment. The three made small talk while they waited for Clay to return. He was back five minutes later with two frothy concoctions, handing one to his mom and the other to Della. “Tucker says this one is yours.”

Rosemary’s glass was garnished with a wedge of pineapple and three maraschino cherries. Della’s was also decorated, with three cherries and a big fat juicy slice of peach. Trying to keep her blush in check, Della raised her glass in his direction. He dipped his head in acknowledgment, and the air hummed and arced between them, hot as an electrical current.

Rosemary was too busy sipping her cocktail to take notice. “Mmm-mm.” She placed her drink down after several healthy swallows. “Gotta hand it to that man—he knows a thing or two about cocktails.”

Della’s mouth twitched. It wasn’t the only thing that man knew a thing or two about.

“Now Della,” Rosemary said, suddenly all business. “I wanted you to come here today and meet my boys so you can assure them I’m fine and tell them to stop being jackasses.”

Coughing as she almost inhaled her drink, Della dragged her eyes off Tucker.

“Mom.” Both Clay and Jethro protested in unison.

“What?” Rosemary affected an air of innocence. “You came here today to try and dissuade me from my relationship with Ray. Let’s not try and pretend any different.”

“That’s not true, Mom,” Clay said. “We’re just concerned you’re being taken advantage of.”

“Clay Edmund Forbes, have I ever struck you as some senile old lady who’s easily swayed by a fine piece of patootie?”

Clay winced at the patootie reference. So did Jethro. Della, on the other hand, just managed to suppress a smile. Rosemary was totally partial to Ray’s patootie.

“Of course not, Mom,” Clay assured. “It’s just that you’ve been through a lot in the last year and a half, with Dad dying and moving away from the place you called home for over fifty years. It stands to reason you might not be making…clear-headed decisions.”

“My head,” Rosemary said, her voice steely, “is perfectly clear.”

Jethro regarded his mother for long moments before switching his attention to Della. “I apologize for you being dragged into this family matter.” He was clearly not impressed with discussing private matters with a woman he’d just met. Not that Della could blame him. “But now that you are, perhaps you could give us your professional opinion?”

Della blinked. She’d never been asked for a professional opinion. Until this moment, she hadn’t even regarded herself as a professional. But, she supposed, after a year of working at the old folks’ home, she did know a lot about residential living and could speak from a knowledge base.

And damn if that didn’t make her sit a little straighter.

“Is it common for residents in old folks’ homes to form…special friendships?”

“I think the phrase you’re after is friends with benefits,” Rosemary interrupted with an eye roll.

Another wince twisted Jethro’s face, but he continued. “And, if so, do they last, and what happens when they’re over and both people have to continue living in such close quarters?”

Della glanced at Rosemary for permission to speak, because while she understood Clay and Jethro’s concerns and that they were coming from a place of love, she could also understand why Rosemary was bristling over her sons’ interference in her autonomy. And she was team Ray and Rosemary all the way.

Pursing her lips, Rosemary nodded at Della to speak.

“It’s more common than you think,” Della said. As far as she knew, it was currently only Ray and Rosemary at the Credence old folks’ home, but she’d done a lot of reading about geriatric relationships in residential care facilities since Ray and Rosemary’s assignation. “And how long they last and behaviors after they end are the same as in the general population.”

In other words, some cases ended well and people moved on, and some cases didn’t. Neither Forbes son seemed particularly comforted by Della’s words.

“Don’t you think…” Clay paused, looking at his mother as if he was trying to find a delicate way to say whatever he was trying to say before returning his attention back to Della. “They’re too old?”

“We’re old, Clay,” Rosemary snapped, her brows beetled together. “Not dead.”

Della chose her words carefully, wanting to be persuasive, not combative. “Well…it’s really not any of my business. If you’re after my opinion, then I would say no. Age shouldn’t come into what two consenting adults choose to do in the privacy of their own homes. And also, Ray Carmody is the nicest, sweetest, most gentle guy you’ll ever meet, and he treats your mother like a queen. He’s not taking advantage of her. He doesn’t have any agenda. They’re just simply…enjoying each other’s company, and I, for one, think it’s wonderful.”

Rosemary delivered a squeeze to Della’s thigh under the table, and she squeezed back.

“But what if it were to turn serious and they were to get married?”

Della didn’t see why that would matter and was about to say so when Rosemary’s laugh cut her off. “Clay…darling. I’m not marrying the man. I’m just using him for sex.”

Della felt the double wince of the two Forbes men all the way down to her toes. It was funny, though, seeing these two grown men discomforted by their elderly mother’s sex life.

“Which means he’s using you, too,” Clay said, tight-lipped.

“I sincerely hope so,” Rosemary confirmed. “Every night,” she added under her breath so just Della could hear, causing her to bite on the inside of her cheek to stop herself from laughing.

“Mom.” Clay gave her a stern look. “I’m trying to be serious.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, let me try that again. I’m seriously just using him for sex.”

Della bit her cheek harder as Jethro jumped in. “What kind of sons would we be if we weren’t looking out for you?”

Rosemary sighed, sliding her hands across the table, one for each son to hold. “I’m sorry, my darlings. Thank you for looking out for me. You’re good boys. But since when have I not been able to look out for myself?”

“Dad would have wanted us to,” Clay insisted.

“I think your dad knew I could look out for myself. And while we’re on the subject, if the shoe was on the other foot, if I was gone and your father had found himself a girlfriend, would either of you feel the need to have this conversation with him?”

Clay and Jethro looked at each other guiltily, and Rosemary gave them both a knowing look as she withdrew her hands. “Right. And above all else, your dad would have wanted me to live a full life. I know that because we discussed it often as we got older, and I think you both know it as well.”

“Yeah,” Clay admitted. “I guess it’s just…not been that long.”

“And you and dad were married for over sixty years,” Jethro added. “It’s taken us by surprise.”

Rosemary nodded slowly, like suddenly it was dawning on her, as it was Della, that this conversation wasn’t about Ray or their mother’s sex life at all. “I know you both miss your father,” she said, her voice gentle. “I do, too. I miss Winston every damn day.”

“I just…still can’t believe he’s gone some days, you know?”

The break in Jethro’s voice hit Della right in the feels. She was envious of these two men having a father that was worthy of grief.

“I do.” Rosemary squeezed her son’s hand. “And I’m not replacing him in my heart. I could never do that. I’m just…making some room for somebody else. Our hearts are always big enough for someone else.”

Della glanced at Tucker, feeling every one of Rosemary’s wise words.

“How about this,” Rosemary suggested. “I know you’ve already met Ray, but that was a brief hello one day. Why don’t I call him and get him down here so you can get to really know him? I think you’ll like him. I think Winston would have, too.”

Jethro and Clay glanced at each other, then nodded their heads, and Rosemary beamed. “Thank you, darlings.”

Della stayed for another half an hour, chatting with the Forbes family, listening to their farm stories and tales of Rosemary in her younger days, until Ray arrived. She excused herself then, heading toward the bar and Tucker. He’d checked out her skirt so many times since sitting in the booth she’d wondered if he’d been bitten by a radioactive spider and suddenly developed X-ray vision.

It was fair to say she was a little hot and bothered by his not-very-discrete ogling of her legs, and she was itching for some payback.

“Hey,” she said with a smile as she approached.

His gaze roved all over her like he really could see through her clothes. “Hey.”

Della’s legs wobbled at the dirtiest sounding hey that had ever been hey’d. The kind of hey that said your panties are red lace with tiny black bows on the hips, and I’m going to be getting you out of them as soon as possible.

Well…she was way ahead of him. If he wanted to set her underwear on fire from across the room, then he could bear the consequences. Placing her glass on the bar, she said, “I’ll have another. I’m just going to the restroom.”

Scooting quickly to her destination, she shut and locked the door of the closest cubicle, then reached under her skirt and pulled down her red-and-black lacy thong. She smiled to herself as she stepped out of it, unable to deny the sudden little thrill. She finally felt like she was coming into her own sexuality.

Okay, she hadn’t been able to go all the way with the blow jobs yet. And there was part of her that worried she might never be able to go all the way. But thankfully, Tucker seemed just fine with any attention she gave him down there, which made her feel safe enough to experiment. To perfect. To make sure whatever level of oral she could give him was her very best work.

Screwing the scrap of lace into a ball in her hand, she stepped out of the cubicle and headed back to the bar.

“That was quick,” Tucker murmured, looking over his shoulder at her as he prepped her cocktail.

Della eased herself up onto the stool, grateful no one else was sitting at the bar who she could potentially flash now that she was bare-ass naked beneath her skirt. She waited patiently, panties in her hand like an unexploded bomb, for Tucker to finish.

Finally, he was done, placing her drink down in front of her and blasting her with his flirty eyes. “See anything else you need?”

She smiled at Mr. I-know-how-hot-you-are-for-me-right-now. “I’ll have an empty glass, please.”

He cocked an eyebrow, curious but compliant. “What kind?”

“Surprise me.”

He reached up, slid a martini glass from the rack above his head, and placed it next to her piña colada. Smiling, Della picked the glass up, brought it close, stuffed her balled-up underwear into it, and pushed it back across the bar until it was sitting halfway between them.

Tucker frowned as he looked down into the glass. “Are they…” He glanced up, dropping his voice. “Are those your panties?”

Della nodded, feeling pretty damn proud of her daring. “Yup.”

His nostrils flared as he stared at them before returning his gaze to her face. Leaning forward on his elbows, he whispered, “Della Munroe. Are you commando under that skirt?”

“That’s for me to know and you to find out.”

He swallowed. “Jesus.”

“You didn’t know you were creating a monster, did you?” she said with a smile.

Opening his mouth to confirm it, he was interrupted by Drew. “Good idea, barkeep. I’ll have a martini.”

Tucker snatched up the glass, and Della stifled a laugh.

“Dirty.” Drew grinned at Della and waggled his eyebrows. “The only way to drink them.”

He got himself comfortable on the stool to her left as Tucker took the glass down to the end of the bar and opened the under-counter dishwasher. She watched as he discreetly stuffed her panties in his back pocket and dumped the glass into the machine, shutting the door.

“Hey, Della,” Drew greeted, bright and cheery, absolutely nothing at all like Tucker’s much more loaded hey.

“Hi.” Della smiled at him, taking a sip of her piña colada. She’d always liked Drew. The fact he was aware of the relationship between her and Tucker and seemed to approve made her like him even more.

Tucker arrived with a beer, plonking it in front of Drew as he blasted Della with a look that told her his hands were under her skirt at the very first opportunity.

“That’s not a martini.” Drew looked down at his drink.

“Correct,” Tucker said, his voice tight.

Drew leaned in toward her and dropped his head to the side. “What’s wrong with him?”

Mimicking his pose, Della also leaned in, her lips pressed together to stop from smiling too big. “I think he’s a little…flustered.”

“Ah.” Drew looked from Della to Tucker and back to Della again. “You two were talking dirty before I arrived.”

“Yes,” Della confirmed.

“No,” Tucker denied.

Drew laughed as they spoke on top of each other. “Would you like me to leave?”

“Yes,” Tucker confirmed.

“No,” Della denied.

He laughed again as their voices clashed once more. “Aww. You two are so damn cute.”

Tucker rolled his eyes, but Della’s heart pitter-pattered at the thought of being one half of a cute couple. She shouldn’t let it do that, but it was hardly under voluntary control. “Ignore him,” she said. “Stay. Tell me about your day.”

“Just the usual kind of stuff,” Drew dismissed. “But while I have you, how about a female perspective on sacred ritual practitioner as an alternative to undertaker?”

A snort came from Tucker. “It sounds like you’re starting a cult. Arlo’s just going to love that.”

“It does sound a little…dark arts-ish,” Della agreed.

“Hmm.” Drew rubbed his jaw. “Maybe you’re right.”

Just then, a guy sat on the stool beside Della and bade them all a polite hello. He wasn’t from anywhere around Credence, because Della would have remembered meeting someone so easy on the eyes who was about her age.

Sadly, he did nothing for her.

“Hi,” Tucker said, smiling at the newcomer. “What can I get you to drink?”

“A Bud, please.”

Tucker turned away to get the beer, and the guy faced Della. “You’re Della Munroe, right?” For a split second, Della froze. How did this guy know her name? But he pressed on, oblivious, offering his hand. “I’m Bo. Bo Forbes. I’m Rosemary’s grandson. She sent me over here to say hi.”

“Oh.” An instant flood of relief exaggerated her response, and Della glanced over her shoulder at Rosemary, who winked and tinkled a little wave. “Right.” She turned back to Bo and shook his hand. This was the daredevil grandson who prioritized his looks over his brain. “You ride bulls on the circuit?”

“That’s me.”

“Rosemary talks about you all the time.”

“She talks about you all the time, too.” He smiled at her. “I can see why.”

His beer was plonked down in front of him with a definite thunk. “Cheers,” Tucker said.

“I’ve always wanted to go to a rodeo,” Della said conversationally.

“You’ve never been? Seriously? You should definitely come and watch me sometime.” Bo grinned. “It’ll be the biggest thrill of your life. I promise.”

Della laughed at his exuberance. She didn’t have the heart to tell him she was more of a Tucker-having-her-panties-in-his-pocket kind of thrill seeker.

“You’re on the professional circuit?” Drew asked.

A half-hour conversation followed about the adventures and dangers of riding a big-ass bull for eight long seconds. Bo rattled off a list of his injuries, including the shoulder surgery he’d just had, which was why he was back home with the family in Kansas and here visiting his grandmother today. He talked about his goals, which included a comprehensive exit plan from riding by raising bulls for the circuit. His winnings had already bought him a ranch, and he’d started to stock it, so it should be turning a handsome profit in the not-too-distant future.

He also threw in a couple of stories about his grandmother and how she’d championed his move onto the circuit when his father had been more cautious. “I don’t think I’d have gone pro if it hadn’t been for Grams.”

While Tucker dealt with an influx of customers, Della chatted away with Drew and Bo quite happily. It felt good to be part of a conversation like this. To have Bo’s light, easygoing attention. To hang out with people and not feel awkward or wary or self-conscious. Being married so young and isolated for a lot of that time had really stymied her social skills, and the more secure and normal she felt, the more her confidence grew.

She was conscious, however, of her underwear stuffed into the back pocket of Tucker’s Levi’s. Every time she caught a glimpse of his ass, she saw the slight bulge, and a trill of excitement skipped through her belly. The fact that the only person in this bar who knew she was commando was Tucker was also wildly thrilling, and she couldn’t wait to hear his key in her lock tonight.

Yeah. She’d given him a spare key last week…

Della checked her watch. It was almost three. “Well, it was nice meeting you, Bo,” she said, “but I gotta go. I’ve got an appointment.”

She and Ruth were having mani-pedis at Mirror, Mirror at quarter past three. She was contemplating getting some fancy waxing done especially for Tucker. She flicked him a glance now, sending him a secret smile, which he didn’t seem to clock.

“Be careful out there, okay?” she instructed, turning her attention back to Rosemary’s grandson as she slid off the stool. “It looks very dangerous.”

“I’m always careful,” Bo said with his daredevil smile. “Before you go…I hope you don’t mind me being forward, but I was wondering if you’d like to go out with me sometime?”

“Oh.” Della blinked at Bo. What? Go out? “Like…on a date?”

“Yes.” He laughed. “On a date.”

Okay. She had not seen that coming. Clearly she needed to pay more attention to the person talking to her and less attention to the guy who was currently harboring her underwear. She glanced at Tucker, who was smiling but in a tight kind of way, like his jaw was about to shatter. Then at Drew, whose gaze flitted between her and Tucker, then to Bo and back to her.

“Oh. Wow.” She was seriously flattered—amazed, actually—but a date with Bo hadn’t even crossed her mind.

Bo laughed again. “I obviously need to be less subtle with my flirting. Look, if you’re not into me or if there’s a special guy, then my ego can take a no.”

Della glanced at Tucker, who met her gaze for a long moment before nodding slightly and giving her a gentle smile. “You should. It’s been ages since you’ve been on a date, Della.”

Her heart just about stopped in her chest. What the hell was he saying? Her panties were in his back pocket. She tried hard not to gape—tried hard to keep her heart from crumbling and busting out of her chest into a pile of rubble on the top of the bar. “I…should?

“She should?” Drew chimed in, apparently equally mystified.

“Sure.” He shrugged. “Why not?”

Della knew that, somewhere deep inside, this was probably Tucker getting back on his you-need-to-see-guys-your-own-age soap box. And yes, she had told him from the beginning that this was only a temporary thing, and she had meant it—at the time. But they’d been so close these past weeks. Was it really that easy for him to let go?

“I bet Bo can get you an all-areas pass to his next rodeo event,” Tucker said, his expression carefully neutral. “Tick that off your bucket list.”

The only rodeo Della was interested in was a late-night one with Tucker where she put on his Stetson and rode him like a cowgirl.

“I sure could.” Bo beamed at her.

She searched Tucker’s face as she held her heart together through sheer force of will, trying to understand why he was doing this. Offering her to another man. But he just nodded and smiled at her like she’d be crazy to turn this opportunity down, and she was suddenly so angry she could spit. Did he truly not feel anything for her?

What an idiot she’d been, holding out, hoping and wishing for nothing.

Well, screw you, buddy. She smiled at Bo. “I’d love to go on a date with you.”

Bo’s grin was genuine. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Della nodded, ignoring the intense heat from Tucker’s stare searing like a laser into her profile.

“How about next Saturday afternoon,” he suggested. “I’ll come and visit Grams, and then we can go out to the lake for a swim. Maybe come to Jack’s after and get something to eat?”

“Sure.” Della wouldn’t ordinarily say yes to a date in the middle of nowhere with someone she barely knew, but she knew and trusted Rosemary’s recommendation, and there’d be plenty of people enjoying the warm weather out by the lake on Saturday afternoon.

She smiled at Bo because double screw Tucker. “That sounds lovely.”

“Here.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket, tapped in the password, and handed it over as he, too, got off his stool. “Give me your number.”

Della complied, deliberately not looking up from the screen as she said, “Bye guys,” to both Drew and Tucker and turned away, heading for the Forbes booth with Bo at her side.

She could feel Tucker’s eyes on her skirt like a heat-seeking missile and hoped his X-ray vision could see every inch of her naked ass as she walked away.

…

Tucker felt a thousand years old as he watched Della and Bo depart, her panties burning a hole in his pocket. Even from behind, they looked like an amazing couple.

“Have you lost your fucking mind?” Drew demanded.

He glared at his old friend. “Oh, come on, man. They’re perfect together. You have to see that.”

Tucker had felt ill—physically ill—watching them chat and laugh at his bar. They were young and good-looking and fun. They were like couples from stock images that were used to sell everything from new cars to photo frames.

Bo Forbes was exactly the kind of guy Della had been looking for when they started out on this venture a few months ago. He was funny, kind, and interesting, he had a job with the potential to make a lot of money, respected his family, loved his granny, and had been recommended by someone Della trusted.

If Tucker could have drawn her perfect match, it would have been Bo Forbes.

“All I see is an idiot.”

“We were always temporary, Drew.”

“Dude. You’re in love with her.”

“No.” Tucker shook his head emphatically. “I’m not.”

But he was. He knew it as surely as he knew his life was never going to be the same again. He was lousily, depressingly, heartbreakingly in love with her.

Fuck.

Drew snorted. “If your superpower was the ability to shoot daggers from your eyes, Bo Forbes would have bled out all over this bar about a minute after you handed over his beer.”

Tucker rolled his eyes. “You always were the melodramatic one.” Except he was right. Bo’s flirt had been on from the get-go, and it had taken all Tucker’s power not to throw him out on his ass.

“Oh, for the love of…” Drew muttered under his breath. “So what? You’re just going to stand by and watch some other guy scoop her up? Without even telling her how you feel?”

“Yes. Because this is what she wanted. She wanted me to teach her the sex stuff so she could meet guys like Bo and flirt with them and date them. And guess what? Today is graduation day.”

He’d done his bit, and now it was time to step back and let her fly, because while they both may have lost sight of what they were doing, this was what she’d wanted. What she’d asked from him. What they’d agreed on.

It wasn’t her fault he’d gone and fallen in love, and he refused to be the guy who held her back. She’d already regretted what she’d missed out on when she was with Todd, and he didn’t want her to look back and regret her time with him because he’d put his feelings and needs above hers.

“Now order another damn drink or get the hell out of my bar.”

Drew sighed, clearly unperturbed by Tucker’s exasperation. “Christ, you’ve got it worse than I thought.”

Tucker grimaced. Drew had no idea. He was terminal. And the only antidote had just walked away with another man.

…

Della hadn’t planned on coming back to Jack’s, but she’d been sitting at home stewing all night, and she didn’t have to be a genius to know that Tucker wouldn’t be coming to her place tonight to explain himself or otherwise. That little performance at the bar earlier with Bo had been his swan song. It was over.

She’d known it wasn’t forever, but to hell with that. Things weren’t the same between them now as they had been back then—they’d gotten much closer, whether he wanted to admit to it or not. She sure as hell deserved being told face-to-face that they were done, not by passing her off to some other guy.

She sat in the parking lot, her fingers drumming on Jolene’s steering wheel, waiting for the bar’s lights to extinguish and for Tucker to wander out. It might be one in the morning, but she was far from sleepy.

He finally stepped out, and Della saw in the rearview mirror the exact moment that Tucker clocked the presence of Jolene, the only other car in the lot apart from his pickup. He slowed almost to a halt for a beat or two, then squared his big, broad, stupid shoulders and resolutely headed across the lot, his backpack in hand.

Her temper, which had stewed into quite the rage, propelled her out of her vehicle. She slammed the door shut. The night sky was littered with stars as she rounded Jolene and headed for him.

“Tucker.”

Her voice echoed around the empty lot and down Main Street. He barely looked at her as he walked the half dozen paces to his car. “What are you doing here? It’s one o’clock in the morning.”

“What, you want to impose a curfew on me now, as well as set me up with random guys?”

The pickup’s door opened, and Tucker tossed in his backpack. The door thunked shut, and he turned to face her. He didn’t let his eyes wander appreciatively over her body like he’d done so freely these past couple of months, he looked straight into her eyes. He was tired, she could tell, but also grittily determined. “What do you want, Della?”

“I want my panties back,” she snapped.

She didn’t want her panties back. Hell, even now, with her heart in pieces, she wanted to ask him to make their stupid temporary deal a permanent one and come home with her. How had this happened? Everything had been going so well, and in the space of an afternoon it had all flipped on its head.

With his face impassive as granite—those deep dimples totally ironed out—he reached into his back pocket, pulled out the scrap of red-and-black lace, and thrust it toward her.

Della shook her head slowly, tears pricking the backs of her eyes as her heart thudded heavy as a stone in her chest. “Why are you doing this?”

His hand dropped and he stuffed them back into his pocket. “Della…we’d come to the end of us anyway.” His face might be hard, but his tone was gentle.

“Says who?”

“There’s nothing more I can teach you. You’re an A-plus student. Bo coming along was perfect timing. You were hitting it off. You looked so good together. It made sense.”

If her vision hadn’t clouded over with a red mist, she might have paid more heed to the strained timbre of his voice, but she didn’t. “Damn it, Tucker. I get to decide that.”

“I know. And I’m sorry.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “But sometimes we all need a little push to step outside our comfort zones.”

Della would like to be able to deny his words, but they’d been very true where she was concerned. She’d needed to be pushed to therapy, she’d needed a push to go for her job—and without those things, she’d probably still be in a corner somewhere, clutching a flashlight.

“I wasn’t done yet.” She took a step toward him, but he tensed, and she halted abruptly, stung by his reluctance to be close. “We weren’t done yet.”

Damn it… She loved him. She took a deep breath to tell him, to put the truth out there, but he looked so closed off, so stiff and uncomfortable standing there looking at her with his hands in his pockets, like he didn’t even want to touch her, and she couldn’t bear to hear him say he didn’t love her back.

She was stronger now than she’d ever been, but she wasn’t strong enough to hear that.

“Yes. We were.”

And there he was again. The hard-ass. The guy who had held out against her advances for longer than any saint. Della knew how hard that guy was to reach when he’d made up his mind.

“Why? Because you said?”

“No, because we said it was only temporary.”

“And I need to be playing with boys my own age?” She didn’t even bother to keep the disdain from her voice.

“Yes.”

It might have been dark, but she saw the movement at the angle of his jaw as he clenched his teeth. “Or is it because you’ve never really gotten past me being Arlo’s sister?”

“It hasn’t exactly been easy sneaking around behind my best friend’s back.”

Della stiffened. Right. Of course. Tucker and Arlo had known each other for over thirty years. Clearly their relationship ranked above what she and Tucker had shared.

Of course it did. But she was only human, and that probably stung most of all.

“Well, I guess you don’t need to worry about me being your dirty little secret anymore, do you?” She shook her head at him, not sure if she was more disgusted at him or at herself. “Congratulations, Tucker, you got to fuck your best friend’s sister and get away with it.”

She didn’t give him a chance for a comeback, turning blindly away, the crash of her heartbeat louder than the scrape of her boots against the asphalt as she strode to her car. She opened and shut the door, turned the key in the ignition, threw Jolene into reverse, and hightailed it out of the lot, the dark, lonely shape of Tucker staring after her, getting smaller and smaller in her rearview mirror.