Tucker ignored both the comment and the sarcasm in it as he strode to the sink and turned on the faucet, shoving his finger beneath the stream of cool water. Relief was instant. It was only a tiny area, less than a pea, but it hurt like a bitch. Nobody said anything while the water ran, and Tucker was tempted to keep it under the stream all damn night, but eventually he flicked the faucet off and reached for a paper towel.

“At the risk of having my head bit off,” Arlo said after Tucker had finished drying up, “is it possible you might need to get laid?”

Drew made a strangled kind of noise in the back of his throat, and Tucker glared at him. Jesus, the last thing he needed was Arlo asking these kinds of questions.

“It’s been a while, by my calculations,” Arlo added.

The fact Arlo could calculate how long it had been for Tucker was clearly a sad indictment of his sex life. Except Arlo didn’t know he and Della had been taking care of the sex thing more than adequately. Nor was he going to. He and Della were over—they’d gotten away with it, as she’d so crudely pointed out. There was no need for Arlo to know.

“No,” he growled.

“Then what?” Arlo asked, clearly exasperated. “Are you having financial problems with the bar? Are you in some kind of legal trouble? Are you sick? Do you…I don’t know…have cancer?”

“What?” Tucker’s brows drew together. “Jesus, no. I told you I’m fine.”

“Yeah. Except—” Arlo put his beer down on the counter behind him with an ominously quiet tink. There was a hard note in his voice now, indicating the implacable chief of police had taken the con. “You’re not. Obviously. And now all my cop senses are pinging like crazy.”

“Oh, for the love of—” Tucker muttered under his breath.

“Dude, you know you can tell me, right?” Arlo straightened. “If you’re in any kind of trouble…if you’ve made some kind of mistake. We’ve been friends since I was three. Let me help you.”

A heavy sigh escaped Tucker’s mouth. He couldn’t believe where this was going. He opened his mouth to assure Arlo again, but it was Drew who spoke. “Enough now, Tucker,” he said, giving him a hard stare.

Tucker shook his head at the obvious message in Drew’s eyes. “No.”

“Dude, he thinks you’ve robbed a bank or have cancer.”

Arlo frowned, flicking his attention between Drew and Tucker before settling on Drew. “Okay? What’s going on here?”

Tucker held Drew’s gaze. “No.”

“Drew?” Arlo pushed, his frown deepening.

“It’s time,” Drew insisted.