Rosemary tracked Ray’s progress all the way out the door, and it was Della’s turn for a speculative look. “I think Ray Carmody has a bit of a crush on you.”

“Well, I hope so. I’ve been giving that man so many damn signals I’m beginning to feel like a traffic light.”

Della blinked. “So…you have a crush, too?”

The older woman shot her an impatient look. “Why not? He’s handsome, funny, smart, and still has all his own hair and teeth. Nice soft hands, too. Reckon they’d feel mighty nice on my skin.”

From the way Rosemary’s fingers stroked absently up her inner arm, Della was left in no doubt that she wasn’t just talking about holding hands. “So…what? You want to get married again?”

“Goodness, no.” She laughed as if it was the most absurd thing she’d ever heard. “I’m too old for all that fuss. Now I just want a man to occasionally tell me I have a great tushy and to warm my bed when the feeling takes us.”

Yeah. Della wouldn’t mind a guy complimenting her tushy every now and then, either.

Her brain automatically went to Tucker. Tucker, who’d never checked out her ass. Damn it—why must her heart want someone so completely uninterested?

“You don’t approve?”

Della dragged her mind back to the conversation. “Don’t be silly. I say go for it. If you ever need me to pass a note—” She grinned. “Let me know.” Holding her hands out for the flowers, she asked, “Would you like me to put those in a vase?” Rosemary passed them over, and Della said, “I’ll be right back.”

“Thank you, dear.”

When Della got to the doorway, she paused and turned. “Rosemary?” The older woman glanced up from her book. “You do have a great tushy.”

“Darlin’,” she said, her eyes twinkling all the way across the room. “I have a spectacular tushy.”

“What about Daniel?” Della asked, inspecting the face on the screen as Tucker drove out of Credence.

He grimaced. “Della and Daniel?”

She rolled her eyes. “He has a very cute dog. He’s twenty-four, enjoys a good time and running—” She sighed at the next word. “Ugh…maybe not.”

“Another dude with no car?”

“No…he’s spelled amok as two words. And the mok is spelled with a u instead of an o.”

“If you’re after good spelling, that’s going to rule out about seventy-five percent of the Tinder pool.”

This was true. There was an appalling lack of spell-check going on in the app. She’d ignored it up until Cody, but now she had to get more discerning, and the ability to spell seemed a good a line as any to draw.

“Oh, this guy seems sweet. He likes quiet nights at home and staying up to the wee small hours talking.”

Tucker snorted. “Hard pass.”