Her reply was speedy. Did you hit your head? Bug-eyed emoji. I do not want my first drive with my brother to be at *night* with a *wet road*. Hair-on-fire emoji.

He laughed, and, selecting the fire-extinguisher emoji, he tapped out, C u soon.

Ten minutes later, the door swung open to reveal Arlo, who stood aside to let Della enter first. She was in baggy track pants and sneakers and a hoodie that looked big enough to fit two people, her straight hair pushed back behind her ears.

Objectively, there was nothing sexy about this outfit, but there were parts of Tucker that vehemently disagreed.

“It’s still raining,” she announced, practically skipping to the bar, her cheeks flushed from the cool night air, an excited glow to her eyes.

“Yeah, I can see that.”

Her hair was darker on top around the center part, where it was damp, and he was pretty sure there was a raindrop in her eyelashes. He had no idea why that was sexy—it just was. And his body hummed like a fucking nuclear power plant as she rested her arms on the bar.

Tucker shifted his attention to Arlo. “You stayin’?”

“Thought I’d get a beer.” Arlo’s gaze traveled around the bar, in that cop way of his, scoping out any potential trouble spots.

“Evening, Arlo. Evening, Della.” Ray lifted his cocktail in salute.

“Evening, Mr. Carmody.” Arlo nodded his head. “Mrs. Forbes.” He turned back to the bar. “How’s the date going?”

“There’s a lot of giggling going on.”

Della sighed. “They look so sweet together.”

Arlo gave a soft snort. “Ray looks like the cat that got the canary.”

“Why wouldn’t he?” Tucker asked. “He’s eighty-two and got more game than you.”

Arlo picked up the beer that Bryce had opened for him. “And how many dates you been on lately, stud?”

Unfortunately, thanks to Arlo, two more than he’d wanted, even if it had been just observing from across the street like some creeper.

Della tapped the bar. “Okay, okay, mandatory manly smack-talk session over. C’mon, Tucker.” She pierced him with an impatient look. “I don’t want it to stop raining.”

“Don’t think there’s much chance of that.” Arlo pulled out his phone, consulting a weather app.

“Excellent.” Della waggled her fingers at Tucker. “Keys?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Tucker dug in his pocket and handed over the keys.

“You might as well drive straight home after the lesson,” Arlo said to his sister. “I’ll just drink this and head back.”

“Sure.” She smiled. “See you soon.” Without waiting for Tucker, she headed for the door.

There was no sexy little swing to her hips, no interesting sashay, but Tucker couldn’t take his eyes off that little skip in her step, the way she practically levitated out of the bar.

“Rain’s going to get heavy. It’ll be slippery, she needs to be careful.”