Sure, on the spectrum of people Della could date, with Tinder dudes on one end and Tucker on the other—he should come out smelling like roses. Hell, he and Arlo had been lifelong friends. Arlo knew Tucker. He knew Tucker was a good guy who treated women with respect.

But he wasn’t exactly rational where Della was concerned.

Tucker and Drew were two of the few men Arlo had trusted implicitly with Della the past three years, and Tucker couldn’t help but think Arlo might see any admission of feelings as a violation of that trust.

“Damn.” Drew whistled. “He’s using his manners and everything. Reckon you could probably get that signed Yankees bat if you wanted to fuck with him a little.”

Arlo flipped Drew the bird. “I don’t have the nerve for it,” he admitted, addressing Tucker. “I’d want to go all cop on her date’s ass, and she’ll be pissed at me. Hell, I’ll be pissed at me. You’re better at that kind of thing.”

“At what?”

“At being hands-off.”

Yeah. Except he was starting to realize he didn’t want to be hands-off, so the less forced proximity, the better.

“Plus, you and her have a good rapport,” Arlo continued. “She likes you.”

Yeah. Della liked him. They had a rapport. She looked at him as a friend. As someone who could teach her to drive and pour her drinks. Not as a man. Not as someone who could be hands-on. Just some gender-neutral sounding board. Which was a good thing.

But depressing as fuck.

“And I’ll know she’s safe.”

Sure, he’d keep Della safe from the dickheads of the dating world. But who would keep him safe from Della?

“C’mon man, I’m trying real hard to step back here, but it ain’t easy.”

Tucker sighed at the desperation in Arlo’s voice. He really was trying hard, and Tucker knew that was difficult. Arlo Pike didn’t do passive very well. But Della deserved to have this time, to enjoy herself a little, to explore everything life had to offer. And if that meant he became some kind of human buffer zone between Arlo’s need to protect and Della’s need to explore, then so be it.

More than anything, he just wanted her to be happy.

“Fine,” he said on an exhalation. “If she’s okay with it.”

Arlo stood with a grin, grabbing him by the shoulders and giving him a shake. “You’re her wingman, dude, why wouldn’t she be okay with it?”

Because Della was smart, and sooner or later she was going to see right through him, see the things he’d tried to keep hidden, and she’d probably run screaming in the other direction.

Chapter Five

Chapter Five