Tucker took it reluctantly. He may have chosen Bailey, but that didn’t mean he wanted to see every picture he’d sent her, and, by the time he’d perused them, he really wished he hadn’t.

They were putting a serious itch up his spine.

There was a taco shot. And a shot of a shiny, purple eggplant. Two frosted cupcakes with chocolate buttons in the middle. A close up of a frilly-looking oyster. Lastly, sent yesterday, there was a hot dog taken in the most suggestive way possible, with a close up of one end and the mustard dripping off the wiener.

Either Tucker had a dirty mind—which, to be fair, did err on the side of filthy—and was reading too much into these innocent images, or Bailey was sending pornographic food pics.

Until now, Tucker wouldn’t have thought food was up to that kind of manipulation. Which just went to prove there was no end to the douchebaggery of some men.

He glanced at Della, who didn’t seem to have a problem with the images. But goddamn it, he was annoyed. He’d vetted this guy, and now he was sending Della nefarious dick, boob, and hoo-ha pics. Screw him.

“Um…do you notice anything…kinda weird about these pictures?”

Della frowned as Tucker handed the phone back, and he watched her swipe through the pics again. “No. But that hot dog is making me hungry.”

Tucker grimaced. “Look closer.” This would go much easier if he didn’t have to spell it out for her. He still hadn’t recovered from the mermaid thing.

She swiped through them again. “Nope.” She shook her head. “Sorry, you’re going to have to help me out.”

For a moment, Tucker contemplated letting it slide. But he didn’t trust a guy who was sending food porn. How long before the dick pics arrived? “I think Bailey is using food to send you sexually suggestive messages.”

“What?” She gave a half laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous.” Glancing at the screen again, she toggled between the images, slowly at first, then more quickly.

“Tacos and oysters and cupcakes?” Tucker said. “Eggplants and hot dogs?”

She blinked again before looking up at him. “Eww.” She wrinkled her nose. “If that’s true, that’s kinda gross.”

Tucker laughed at the expression on her face. “Right?”

“Why would he do that?”

“He probably thinks he’s being really cool and sophisticated.” Instead of a grubby little dipshit. “What did you say when he sent the eggplant?”

“I said…” She scrolled to the image on the screen, pausing for a moment before she relayed the message. “I said I loved the taste of eggplant.”

Tucker’s head fell back against the headrest. “Oh Jesus.”

“Well, I do.” She glared at him. “I thought we were talking about eggplant.”

“What about the oyster?”

More scrolling. “I said I wasn’t a fan.”

“And he said?”