“Yup. It was a tragedy none of us ever really got over.” There was a sudden waver in Rosemary’s voice. “She had her heart set on going to Disneyland from the moment it opened. Never got there.”

“I’ve never been there, either.”

“Oh honey, that man is Disneyland, the Kennedy Space Center, and Margaritaville all rolled into one.”

Della’s gaze met Rosemary’s. It was tempting to play dumb, but those shrewd eyes refused to let her hide. “Tucker?”

“Yeah, Tucker.” Rosemary leaned forward and patted her hand. “And you should be riding him any chance you get.”

Chapter Six

Chapter Six

“Here you are, Mr. Carmody, Mrs. Forbes. Another round of Rosemary Fizzes.”

Tucker placed the cocktails down in front of his customers. It was their third round. They were sitting at a booth and hadn’t stopped talking and laughing for nearly two hours.

Rosemary picked hers up and said, “Tucker, you give good cocktail.”

Tucker grinned at her blatantly flirty eyes. He was used to women flirting with him—bartenders were considered harmless flirting practice for a lot of women, and Tucker was happy to be the recipient. “Why thank you, ma’am.”

“I swear I lost the feeling in my legs an hour ago.” She hiccupped, and both she and Ray thought it was hilariously funny.

Tucker laughed at the tipsy octogenarians. “How are you two kids getting home?”

“Bob’s picking us up in half an hour,” Ray confirmed.

The thought of Bob Downey out on the roads at night in that old clunker of his was a scary proposition. Just as well he and Rosemary were feeling a little merry. “I’m surprised Bob didn’t invite himself along.”

“Oh, he tried. But Rosemary told him three was a crowd.” Ray grinned, picked up his glass, and tapped it to hers.

“And that is my cue to leave.”

When neither of them protested, Tucker chuckled and moved away, sliding back behind the bar. It was a slow night with only a few other customers besides the lovebirds in the booth, and his mind drifted as he unloaded glasses from the dishwasher.

To Della.

It was doing that a lot lately. Since this wingman caper. And the driving lessons. Since that dress. Since the conversation about that dress. She’d been pissed at him about the nice comment, and he should have just let her be pissed, but she’d goaded him into admitting the truth because he hadn’t been able to bear her thinking she was terrible to look at.

The dress was sexy. She was sexy.