“Why? It’s a change from the I like to party till I puke guys.”

“Because what he means is, he’s too poor to go out and he’s a raging insomniac.”

Della sighed—man, this was complicated. She looked out the window as they passed the goodbye from Credence sign. The landscape was looking greener as spring sprang all around them. Trees were growing leaves, and buds were blossoming.

“Where are we going?”

“To the old abandoned industrial estate on the way to the lake. Past the old red barn. Its deserted, and there are roads and a couple of parking lots. It’s a good place to learn the basics before you go on the open road.”

Deserted.

A thrilling kind of frisson slid down Della’s spine. They’d be alone out there. In his pickup, which was already gloriously warm and smelling like the coffee from Deja Brew and the bagels from Annie’s he’d handed her as she’d got in the vehicle. She’d shed her coat—it was on the bench seat between them, along with his well-worn Stetson—and bitten into her bagel before she’d even buckled up.

Glancing at Tucker’s profile, she felt her heart give a little flutter at the strong set of his features and the scruff at his jawline. He was in denim and plaid, his shirt sitting flat against his stomach and rolled up at the elbows to reveal thickly muscled forearms. His thigh nearest her was hugged to perfection by his Levi’s. His hair was damp at his nape, like he might have stepped out of the shower not too long ago, and Della tried really hard not to wonder what Tucker would look like in only a towel.

She wondered instead what it’d be like to unbuckle, slide across the seat, snuggle her head into his shoulder, and slip her hand onto his thigh. Like she’d seen in about a hundred country music videos. Unfortunately, she didn’t need to wonder what his response would be if she did make such a move. He’d go all tense. Probably stop the car and get out and pace for a bit before he said anything to her, because Tucker always chose his words so carefully and he’d be kind and gentle and patient in his rejection.

But the driving lessons would be over before they’d even begun.

Which was why Della wasn’t going to risk it, because riding in Tucker’s pickup felt very grown-up. Very independent. Deliciously…adult. And while he might not be attracted to her, she could at least indulge in spending time alone with him and pretend, even for a little while, that they could be a thing.

If she was looking for a thing. Which she was not.