“More than ten?”

Tucker reluctantly did the mental arithmetic. “Yes.”

“How many more?”

Jesus. “I don’t keep score, Della.”

Both her eyebrows raised. “That many, huh?”

“A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell,” he obfuscated. Or send dick pics.

“But you haven’t found your princess yet?”

“Not yet.” Tucker drew in a ragged breath. It was stuffy in here. “I had a couple of relationships in my early twenties that didn’t end up going anywhere. And then my dad died ten years ago, and I moved back to Credence to take over Jack’s.”

“And there’s been no one serious since?”

He gave a half smile. “Not a lot of women in these parts, remember?”

Over the past decade, he’d been the recipient of affection from the occasional woman passing through Credence who’d stopped into Jack’s for a drink and decided he was the closest thing to a genuine cowboy she was ever likely to meet.

And then Della had come to town.

Della, who was waiting for his answer. “Nothing serious, no.” Nothing like the things he felt when he looked at her.

“Are you not interested in…meeting a”—she made air quotes—“nice girl? Settling down?”

The question seemed straightforward enough, but the answer was complicated.

“Or a boy.” She shrugged, her mouth tilting in a small smile. “Whatever revs your engine.”

Unfortunately for Tucker, she revved his engine. He grinned. “Thanks. If Keanu Reeves ever comes out, I might switch teams. Until then, I’ll stick to women.”

“But not to settle down?”

“It’s…not something I really think about.” The truth was, he’d always thought he would find someone, get married, have some kids. Settle in Credence. Pass on The Lumberjack to said kids, if they were interested. But life hadn’t worked out that way, and now there was Della, who was strictly off-limits and most adamantly didn’t want a relationship anyway.

“Well…that’s a shame.”

It was? Tucker knew he shouldn’t ask. This conversation was veering into dangerous territory, and he should get it back on neutral ground, but…he wanted to know why, damn it. “It is?”

“Of course. Face it, Tucker, you’re a great prospect. On paper, anyway.”

He snorted. “Gee, thanks.”

“No, seriously. You’re a great guy.” She held up her hand and proceeded to tick points off her fingers. “You’re generous.” Tick. “You’re protective.” Tick. “You’re friendly and loyal.” Two ticks in quick succession.

God, he sounded like a puppy. “I’m housebroken as well,” he said derisively.

She laughed, ignoring his sarcasm as she ticked off her last finger. “And you have a job.”

“Employed and housebroken. Yeah, I sound like such a catch.”

“Well…you’re also a really attractive guy who”—her gaze dropped to his mouth—“looks like he knows how to kiss a woman just right.”

And they were back to the k word again.

Chapter Seven