Selena reached across the desk, sliding her hand over Della’s. “You’re young. There’s plenty of time to add it to your repertoire.”

Della hoped so. As of now, it was going to the top of her bucket list.

Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

Della had decided on a dressy pair of jeans for her date. She’d found a pair of dark blue boot-cut jeans in downtown Denver with prominent white stitching and rhinestones on the back pockets. She’d also picked up a plaid, long-sleeved shirt in pinks and blues with more rhinestone detailing on the pockets and around the snaps. It was the kind of shirt that would be perfectly at home on the streets of Credence, and she hadn’t been able to resist.

She’d rolled it up at the sleeves, teamed it with her ankle boots, and pulled her hair back into a high ponytail to complete the look. She’d also found some cheap chandelier earrings with light pink stones, and she loved how they brushed the sides of her neck when she moved her head.

Tucker had looked her up and down from head to toe and said “Yeehaw” when she’d emerged from the bedroom, and even though there was nothing lingering or sexual about the way he’d inspected her, it was a vast improvement on nice. It boosted her confidence.

The fact he was dressed in denim and plaid himself gave her a little kick. They looked like they could be a couple—the cutesy kind that wore matching clothes—and even though she couldn’t imagine Tucker ever being on board with his-and-her matching clothes, the thought still did funny things to her pulse.

“Did the gentleman know what time the booking was for, ma’am?”

The waiter who’d been hovering in the background for the last twenty minutes smiled sympathetically at her as he filled up Della’s water glass. Again.

Great. He thought she’d been stood up.

“Yes,” she said, smiling pleasantly. “I’m sure he’ll be along shortly.”

Della grabbed her phone and looked at her messages. Nothing from Joel. He’d messaged her only a few hours ago saying he was looking forward to their night. So surely he hadn’t decided to leave her hanging? Maybe he’d had an accident on the way here? Maybe his granny had taken ill suddenly. Maybe there was an important Habitat for Humanity crisis and he’d been whisked back to Africa with no time to let her know?

She typed and deleted several different messages on the screen before settling on a casual tone. Hey. Hope everything is okay? Are we still on for tonight? Della sent it off into the ether.

A glass of white wine appeared near her right hand as she placed the phone on the tablecloth. “Here you go, honey.” The drinks waitress smiled at her. “On the house.”