“No. Yes. No. Because he trusts that I’m taking you for a driving lesson. Not…making-out lessons. And because I just…don’t think about you like that.”

A flash of lightning illuminated the world outside the fogged windows, reminding Tucker that telling a big fat lie in the middle of a biblical-ass storm was probably not the best idea, even if they were on rubber. But the lie hit its mark, if the way she stiffened was any indication.

Tucker felt lower than a rattlesnake’s ass, but it was better that she hated him, anyway.

“And even if there wasn’t the sister stuff,” he continued because he was going in boots and all, “I’m eleven years older than you. Which makes me feel like some kind of dirty old man.”

“You’re thirty-six, Tucker. Not eighty.”

He shook his head. He knew it might seem like a flimsy argument, but he’d cling to any argument, no matter how flimsy, to keep his distance from Della. “I don’t fool around with women who were playing with Barbie dolls when I was backpacking around Europe.”

“I didn’t own any Barbie dolls.”

Tucker sighed, exasperation burning like a trail of lit gunpowder through his veins. “The point is, Della…you really should be playing with boys your own age.”

Even if it did kill him to have to watch from the sidelines. Especially now that he’d heard that little sigh-moan. It was bound to play on repeat in his head. Probably forever.

“Are you serious right now?” She glared at him. “For starters, you don’t get to tell me who I should or shouldn’t be playing with. And secondly, now you think I should be playing with the dick-pic generation?”

Tucker grimaced. When she put it like that, he could see why Della didn’t seem to have a problem with their age difference. “I’m sure we’ll be able to find you someone whose genitals are camera shy.”

“You know Todd was my age, right?”

The thought of Della’s ex burned him up. Thinking that men like Todd and Della’s father—or the man she grew up thinking was her father, anyway—had been her only masculine role models until she’d come to Credence made him want to break things.

“That didn’t work out so well for me,” she added.

“Not everyone’s a Todd, Della.”

“I know that,” she said quietly, her shoulders sagging as she huffed out a breath. “You’re not.”

“No, I’m not.” The thought was abhorrent. “And there are plenty of guys your age who aren’t, either. And I’m going to find you some.”

If it killed him. And it probably would.

“Yeah?” She smiled a little then.

Tucker returned the smile. “Yeah.”

“Pinkie promise.” She held out her crooked pinkie like it was an olive branch.

He glanced at it. “You know I’m a dude, right?”