Della was fairly certain she couldn’t flirt her way into a date with a man who hadn’t seen a woman in decades. Still, muscles deep behind her belly button unfurled at the thought of trying some on Tucker. She’d seen a lot of women vying for his attention at Jack’s. Seen them lean in and smile, laugh and joke and tease, swish their hair sexily, swing their hips just right.

There was no way she could compete with those ninja-level flirting skills.

“So it’s okay to flirt on a first date?”

He shrugged. “Sure, if you want to. If the guy is nice and you’re getting along well and you like him. Men like it when women flirt with them.”

“Because they’re lazy?”

Tucker laughed. “No. Because it’s flattering to our poor fragile egos.”

He put his hand on his chest in faux fragility, but there was no universe in which Tucker Daniels looked fragile. Hell, there was no universe in which he didn’t look like he’d just come in from chopping logs all afternoon. His masculinity oozed across the table.

“The same way it can be flattering for women. And it’s a lot easier to tell if a woman’s really into you.”

“But…what if he gets the wrong idea from my flirting?”

“I’m talking something light here, Della. Nothing hard-core.”

“But what if he does anyway?” One of the hangovers of being in an abusive relationship was how strictly Della had needed to curate her interaction with the opposite sex. Unlearning all that wasn’t easy.

This whole dating, small talk, flirting thing was a giant leap of faith for her.

“If he gets the wrong idea, he’s an asshole and you walk away. You get to call the shots, Della. Any guy who doesn’t understand that isn’t worth your time.” Tucker’s tone was light, but his expression was suddenly serious and his jaw tight.

“Okay.” She nodded. “Check.” No assholes allowed. Getting the conversation back into less-fraught territory, she asked, “What do you consider light flirting?”

He shrugged. “Little things, really. Something as simple as…” His gaze drifted over her face and settled on her left ear. “Playing with your earring.”

The chandelier brushed lazily against her neck as Della laughed. The caress seemed supercharged, and her laughter petered out as Tucker’s gaze lingered. Her breath seized in her throat, but, almost of its own volition, her left hand lifted from the table and her fingers played with the heavy drop of the earring before moving to caress her lobe, the stones swishing back and forth as she toyed with it.

“Like this?”

The flare of heat in Tucker’s gaze glowed bright, and, if she wasn’t very much mistaken, his nostrils flared. He nodded slowly. “Tip your head a little. To the opposite side.”