She quirked an eyebrow at him. “And would you like to be taught by Arlo?”

Tucker grimaced. He would rather shove a stick shift in his eye. Arlo would be thorough and methodical but also strict to the point of terrifying, and God help anyone who didn’t have their hands at ten and two on the wheel at all times.

“There are no driving schools in Credence, and I can ask Winona, but I know she’s behind on a book deadline. Drew would help, but I’m not sure I want to take lessons in a hearse, and, well…Jack’s doesn’t open until ten, right? So I was thinking maybe we could go out in the mornings for a few weeks when it fits in with your schedule?”

She deliberately batted her eyes at him, a smile playing on her mouth, her hands clasped together as if she was praying. “Please? I promise to be very attentive and follow your instructions to the letter.”

Ordinarily, Tucker would have some quick flirty reply to a woman promising him those kinds of things, but Della hadn’t meant it that way. He’d worked hard to keep their friendship a neutral space. He wasn’t going to fuck that up now.

“Yeah, okay.”

Him and her in his pickup. Alone. In cupcake hell. What could possibly go wrong?

Chapter Four

Chapter Four

Della was striding past Rosemary’s villa on Monday morning when “How was your date on Friday night, my dear?” drifted out through the open door.

The twenty-four villas were all self-contained units at the back of the complex, connected by a network of paths. Della backtracked and entered. “Morning.”

Rosemary was sitting at the window seat with a book, soaking up the unseasonably warm weather that had arrived over the weekend and was predicted to stay for the next few days before a cold front came through.

“Are you reading one of Winona’s books?” Della was sure that was the cover of Winona’s latest.

Peering over her glasses, Rosemary quirked an eyebrow. “Date was that bad, huh?”

“It was a bust,” Della admitted as she sat down on the end of the seat and leaned her back against the wall.

“Let me guess. He lied about his height?”

“Well…yes, actually. How did you know?”

Rosemary shrugged. “He looked shorter in his pictures.”

Della blinked. He did? “Why do men do that?”

“It’s a penis thing,” the older woman said nonchalantly.

“A penis thing?”

Della was starting to think Rosemary was a little obsessed with dicks. Or maybe she just liked saying scandalous things? Either way, Della found it endearing.

“Yeah…you know. Anatomical proportionality and all that.” No, Della did not know, but Rosemary wasn’t done with the questions. “What else did he lie about?”

“He said he didn’t want to just hook up, but…”

“He wanted to just hook up.” She tutted. “What a dumbass.”