Her pulse leaped at her name, and she turned to find Cody smiling at her. Granted, he was a slightly shorter version of the Cody she was expecting, but it was definitely him, and he held out his hand politely. She stood, and they shook. Yeah…no way was he six foot two. She was five foot nine in her two-inch boot heels, and their heights right now were dead even.

Not that Della gave a flying fig about his height, but…what else had he lied about?

“I’m sorry I’m late,” he apologized as he took the seat opposite. “Traffic was awful.”

“It’s fine,” she assured him with a smile as she took her seat, but he was already looking past her, seeking out a waiter.

“I could murder a beer,” he said as he waved his hand, then snapped his fingers to get the attention of the closest waitstaff.

Della blinked. Oh dear.

“Yes, sir?” The waitress slid a brief glance at Della before fixing a smile to her face and turning her attention to Cody. “Can I help you?”

“Sure can, darlin’.” He gave her an exaggerated wink.

Oh dear, oh dear. The waitress was going to spit in his food.

“I’ll get a Bud, and keep ’em coming. And—” He flashed Della what she could only assume was his best hey-baby smile. “The little lady would like?”

Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear.

The waitress raised an eyebrow at her that had nothing to do with her choice of drink and everything to do with her choice of man. An eyebrow that clearly said, This guy? Oh, honey, please.

Selena had counseled Della to stick to nonalcoholic drinks tonight, but one wouldn’t hurt, surely? “I’ll get a piña colada, please.”

“Alrighty.” Cody slapped the table. “Now you’re talking.”

The waitress glanced at him, then back at Della. “Double shot?”

“Yes please.”

Cody’s gaze stuck like glue to the waitress’s ass as she walked away, and Della wondered if it was too late to order a vat of piña colada.

When he finally returned his attention to Della, he said, “You’re looking pretty tonight.”

Of all the things he could have said right now, Cody hit the jackpot. He may have been utterly unimpressive to this point, but Della’s ego succumbed to the stroking regardless. Take that, Tucker Daniels.

Della touched her hair. “Thank you. You’re looking very handsome.”

And he was. Shorter, for sure, but handsome nonetheless. He’d obviously also made an effort. He was dressed in expensive-looking jeans and a button-down shirt, cleanly shaven, and he smelled nice. They were all plusses. Selena had said to weigh up the plusses and minuses.

“I prefer hot,” he said with another over-the-top wink.

Oh crap. Minus. Big fat minus.