What Della wanted was to reach across and run her fingers along the scruff at his jawline and down his throat. Hell, she wanted to press her lips there and feel the spikiness of his whiskers, the thud of his pulse. She folded her hands in her lap.

“So?” His voice rumbled out from his just-parted lips. “Verdict?”

“It was good. Bailey’s…nice.”

“Nice is good.”

Yes. Nice was good. Nice was a far cry from her ex. What wasn’t nice was how much she wanted to kiss Tucker’s barely moving lips. “Like my dress.”

Tucker blinked at her reply, obviously surprised. As was she. She certainly hadn’t planned on letting that slip out.

“Umm…yes?”

She suppressed the urge to laugh at his clearly bewildered response. She could see the cogs in his brain turning, trying to figure out if he’d done something wrong.

“It is nice,” he reiterated.

Great. “Okay.”

More confusion crinkled his brow. “What?”

Della blew out a breath. Did she have to spell it out? “Nice is just about the blandest word in the dictionary, Tucker. It’s not the greatest compliment you can give a woman, you know? You might as well have said whatever.”

“Hang on, no. I didn’t mean that…”

“It’s fine, Tuck,” she dismissed irritably as he trailed off. “I look nice. Whatever.”

“No.” He shifted in his chair, half turning to face her. “You looked…you look…” He ran his eyes over her, and every skin cell sizzled beneath the hot sweep of his gaze. “Awesome.”

Della folded her arms. “Awesome?”

He tried again. “Cute? And…sweet?”

She arched an eyebrow. “Cute and sweet?” For the love of all that was holy… “Like a litter of kittens?”

Tucker rubbed his forehead. “Jesus, Della, what do you want from me?”

“What I need is a confidence boost. Something a bit more effusive than nice. Something that makes me feel like I might actually be attractive instead of just mildly interesting.”

He picked up his bottle of beer, which was half full, and took three long swallows.

Della laughed at his obvious desire to not be part of this conversation. “Wow, really? Am I that terrible to look at?”

He thunked his bottle down. “Goddamn it, Della.” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, blasting her with a glare. “Don’t do that. Don’t put yourself down like that.”

She glared back. “Because you’re doing it so well?”

Now she needed a drink. Grabbing his beer, she tipped her head back and drank it all down.

“Fine,” he huffed. “You want a word, how about sexy?”

Della almost snorted. Sure. “It doesn’t count if I’ve had to drag it out of you.”