Ten days later, Della was excited to be, once again, heading to Denver. It was a gorgeous Friday morning—March had brought some spectacular weather, and she felt as if she could conquer the world. And not just because of her date tonight, but because she was sitting in the driver’s seat.

She was driving into Denver.

Better still, Tucker had made the suggestion. He’d told her she was doing well and that she was ready for her next challenge—city driving.

“How long do you think I’m going to need before I can go for my full license?” she asked as they passed by Frieda’s. The embarrassment from their conversation last time they’d passed by was surprisingly fresh, and she was desperate to ignore the store’s presence this time around.

As much as a giant rotating condom could be ignored.

“Let’s see how you’re feeling about your skills when we next come to Denver. You’ve got a lesson booked this afternoon and another in the morning, which is great, but I think we should do some night driving at some point. And it’d be good if you could go out in the rain as well at least once. See how different it is to drive in slippery conditions and poor visibility. There’s some forecast for next week.”

Della nodded, noting with relief Frieda’s giant Trojan getting smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror. “You think I could maybe take the practical test in two weeks’ time?”

“Maybe.”

“I thought you’d make me wait longer.” She’d thought Arlo would be in his ear about her taking it slow.

He shrugged. “You’re a good driver. Careful and considerate of other road users. That’s better than about seventy-five percent of drivers out there.”

“Really?” She grinned. “I’m a good driver?”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t let it go to your head.”

Too late. Della beamed at him, and even though he wasn’t looking at her, he said, “Eyes front.”

Della returned her attention to the road, suppressing the urge to bounce in her seat. The sense of freedom she felt behind this wheel was infectious. “Will you help me choose a car?”

“I think maybe Arlo might like to help you with that.”

“Oh. Yeah. Of course.” Della conceded Tucker’s point. “Good idea.” Arlo would be thrilled to be asked, and no one was going to sell a lemon to the sister of a police chief.

They chatted about car types for a while, Della picking Tucker’s brain about every make and model on the market, naturally assuming he’d just know this information. Car talk turned to map talk, which turned to travel talk, and before she knew it she was telling Tucker about the book she was currently reading on London.