Oookay…as entertaining as it was to watch the back-and-forth between Arlo and Winona, they were attracting onlookers. And while Della may not have shriveled up and died at her brother knowing she’d just bought something—several somethings—at a sex shop, she didn’t want to advertise it to all and sundry, either.

“Anyway,” Della said. “It was nice”—awkward—“bumping into you, but we’ll be off now.”

Arlo nodded quickly, as if he, too, had zero desire to prolong this little interchange. He tipped his hat and stood aside. “You ladies all have a good day now.”

Winona flashed her shopping bag at Arlo, swinging it off her index finger. “Oh…we intend to,” she said with a saucy wink as she brushed past Arlo.

Della squeezed his arm as she passed by. “Stay safe on the roads,” he said gruffly. “There’s a storm front coming in later this afternoon.”

The sky was endlessly blue, the sun even warm, for March. But Della knew the weather in these parts could change rapidly. “I will,” she said reassuringly before scurrying after the others, who were crossing the parking lot.

“I don’t know if you know this, Della,” Rosemary announced as she caught up with her posse. “But your brother is one hella fine piece of ass.”

Della almost choked on her own tongue as Molly, Marley, and Winona all laughed.

“That he is,” Molly agreed.

“Yup.” Marley nodded. “Bone fide hottie.”

“Pfft.” Winona’s pfft was highly disparaging. “The man’s so uptight I bet you couldn’t squeeze a credit card between those ass cheeks.”

Rosemary grinned. “I volunteer to try.”

They were all laughing hard as they climbed into Jolene and headed home.

…

Tucker was trashing Drew’s latest euphemism for his funeral-home business—Ever After—when Arlo threw himself down on a barstool several hours later without greeting any of the customers. “Bourbon. Neat.”

Drew raised an eyebrow at Tucker, who wordlessly reached for a glass with one hand and the booze with the other. He placed the glass in front of Arlo and splashed in a couple of fingers. “Tough day.”

“You could say that.” Arlo threw the tumbler back and brought the empty glass down onto the bar with a solid thunk.

Tucker had a very bad feeling this wasn’t work related. He could read Arlo well. Work stuff got Arlo all antsy and puffed up, cussing up a storm. It was family—Della—that drove him to drink.

Della, who he’d pushed against Wade Carter’s penthouse windows and kissed like a crazy person in Denver. Della, who he’d been trying not to think about all week. Della, who he’d been actively avoiding.

Didn’t look like he was going to be able to avoid talking about her now, though. Resigned, Tucker held up the bottle. “Another?”