Arlo’s quiet statement dragged Tucker’s attention off Della’s ass—not that he could make it out, thanks to the length of the hoodie. He glared at his friend, annoyed by his need to state the fucking obvious. “Do I look like an idiot?”

“Well…” Arlo shrugged. “Now that you mention it.” He smiled around the lip of his beer bottle as he took a swig.

Tucker plastered a screw-you smile on his face as he flipped Arlo the bird.

“I’m just sayin’… You know wet roads give me the fucking heebie-jeebies.”

Yeah. Tucker knew that rain and slippery roads were partly responsible for Arlo’s missing leg. As was his savior complex. “Which is why she needs to know how to handle them.”

“I know that,” Arlo muttered, irritation creeping into his voice.

“Okay then.” Tucker undid his apron and tossed it on the serving area behind the bar. “Well, I’m going to go and do that now.”

Arlo raised an eyebrow. “Are you still here?”

“Hey, you know, you should be a cop,” Tucker said. “You can be a real asshole.”

Arlo grinned. “That’s chief asshole to you.”

They were about halfway to the lake when the rain started to hammer down. The first fifteen minutes, it’d been moderate, but now it was severely restricting visibility. Tucker was pleased he didn’t have to tell Della to reduce her speed. She did that automatically as she flicked the wipers up another notch.

“Yikes, I can barely see a thing.”

Her knuckles blanched white around the steering wheel. “You’re doing great,” he encouraged. “Are you worried?”

“A little.”

A sign marking a scenic area a mile ahead loomed out of the darkness. “Pull over up there,” he instructed.

“It’s okay. I can keep going.” But her knuckles whitened further as the intensity of the rainfall seemed to turn itself up yet another notch.

“Sure,” Tucker conceded. “But part of driving in the rain or any kind of inclement weather is knowing when it’s too dangerous to continue. You’re better to wait the weather out, if it’s safe to do so, than to keep going, especially if your gut is telling you to stop.”

A streak of lightning cracked and thundered around them, temporarily lighting the distant tree line around the lake, and her knuckles practically burst through her skin. “Okay.”

A couple of minutes later, she turned into the deserted scenic outlook, parking and turning the engine off, leaving nothing but the sound of the rain drumming on the roof. Out in front of them was a view of the lake, but Tucker couldn’t see past the hood.

“It’s loud.” She raised her voice a little as she turned her face.

“Yep.” And yet he swore he could hear his breathing above the racket. He swore he could hear hers, too.