The waitress brought his beer and set it down on the table. “Thank you, darlin’,” he said, and she shot him a painfully polite smile before turning to Della.

“Your piña colada will be here soon.”

Once again, Cody checked out the waitress’s butt as she retreated, finally dragging his eyes away to take a swig of his beer. “So what have you been up to today?” he asked.

Della toyed with the idea of telling him she’d been to see her shrink of three years, where they’d workshopped this date, but ruthlessly quashed the urge. Why would she sabotage things already? Cody thought she was pretty, damn it, and maybe he was just nervous? Maybe he was just acting out thinking she’d be impressed or something?

She opened her mouth to tell him that she’d walked into the DMV today and got herself a booklet so she could get her driver’s license, but it appeared he wasn’t actually interested in her answer as he jumped straight into a ten-minute monologue on his day.

Woken by a phone call from his mom—who really needed to be on Prozac—at nine thirty. His four-hour Fortnite sesh with his gaming buds—who’d all be dead without him. His visit to his grandmother—who was losing her marbles—in the assisted-care facility.

Her piña colada arriving one minute into the conversation was its only saving grace.

“I don’t know how you stand to work with old people.” Cody started on his second beer. “I’d be bored out of my brains.”

Della blinked. Because fixing potholes was such stimulating work?

“I love it,” she said, trying not to sound defensive, although she had no idea why, because screw him and his judgment. “Sometimes they squabble like a bunch of first graders, and it can be a bit like herding cats, but I’ve never laughed more or felt more love in my life than when I’m at work.”

Which probably said more about her life than anything else, but it was true. Spending time with the old folks of Credence had been good therapy.

“Well…better you than me.”

He lifted his bottle to her in salute before drinking half of it down. The waitress approached to take their order, but he waved her away. Della’s stomach growled in protest, not that Cody heard, because he’d moved on to a play-by-play commentary on the Super Bowl and how the Broncos had been robbed in the playoffs, which led to questions about Wade Carter and if she’d ever met Credence’s hometown hero.

Della declined to mention that she’d been at Wade and CC’s wedding. Or that they were expecting their first baby later this year.

“What say,” Cody suggested, placing his empty beer down and laying his smoothest smile on her, “you and I blow this popsicle stand? My apartment’s ten minutes away.”