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.