“He took the money hit,” Aaron said, then swallowed some of his pale ale. “Told me he didn’t want to waste his time looking for contractors. But the cheapest bid came in at around twenty thousand, so it still hurt a good bit.”

That was for sure. Delia guessed that a lot of people might wonder why the repairs would cost so much, but if they’d had to replace all that drywall and repaint throughout the house, then the price of those repairs would add up really fast.

“I never had anyone with carpet on the ceiling,” she said. “Plenty of bathroom carpet, though. You gotta love the eighties.”

Or maybe the seventies. She wasn’t sure when the trend for putting carpet in bathrooms…especially master baths…had first begun, but she was glad it had died out with bell-bottoms and acid wash.

They continued to chat, and when the waiter finally came by and asked if they wanted another round of drinks, neither Delia nor Aaron hesitated in saying yes. In fact, she had to admit to herself that she was having a pretty decent time.

Nothing earth-shattering, of course, but that was all right. She just hadn’t wanted the evening to be an unmitigated disaster, which it certainly was not.

Aaron also talked a little about his family, and since everything he said matched what Prudence had already told her, Delia was rapidly coming to the conclusion that the man had nothing to hide.

And she supposed she should be relieved about that.

The second margarita was even stronger than the first, so she was glad she and Aaron had ordered the plate of nachos, which was huge and served as a decent substitution for an actual meal. Without it, she would have felt downright tipsy rather than being just a little elevated.

Once they were done eating and had finished their drinks, Aaron insisted on walking Delia to her car.

“I know they have security guards, of course,” he told her as they made their way over to the parking garage. “But my mother would have my head if I didn’t make sure that a lady made it to her car safely after a date.”

“Old-fashioned, huh?” Delia asked with a grin, and he nodded.

“She was born in Veracruz and didn’t move to the States until she was around fifteen, when my grandparents on that side of the family emigrated to Nevada. And her grandmother — my great-grandmother — helped raise her, so she’s kind of old-fashioned.”

In a way, Delia liked that idea, of learning from your forebears, of being steeped in tradition and old family customs. Both her parents had moved here from elsewhere, her father from Chicago and her mother from Seattle, and her grandparents still lived out of state. They came to visit when they could…usually in the depths of winter, so they could escape the snow and the rain for a week or maybe two…but it wasn’t anything like being raised with all of them around all the time.

“Well, I appreciate the company,” she said. “I’ve never had a problem in one of these parking garages, but a friend of mine was mugged at Treasure Island a couple of years ago.”

And of course, Caleb had been attacked by a couple of minion demons in the Bellagio’s parking structure back in January, but she supposed that wasn’t quite the same thing as a regular old mugging.

Not that she had any intention of mentioning that particular episode to Aaron Sanchez.

He looked sufficiently sympathetic after learning about her friend’s incident. “I hate hearing stuff like that. Was she okay?”

“Yes, just shaken up,” Delia replied. “The mugger got her purse, but because she had ‘Find My Phone’ enabled on her iPhone, the police caught up with the guy just a couple of hours later. He wasn’t exactly the sharpest tack in the box, or maybe all the meth had just fried his brains.”

That was why he’d attacked Megan. She’d seemed like an easy mark, one who hopefully had enough cash on her that the man could buy himself another hit.

Ever since then, Megan had carried pepper spray with her. Delia didn’t bring up that particular detail, though, or mention that she had the same defensive weapon in her own purse. Of course, she would have no need to use it tonight — Aaron seemed like a perfect gentleman — but at the same time, it never felt smart to reveal all your cards.

“Here we are,” she said as they approached her white Kona SUV. A silver BMW occupied the spot to its right, but the one on the left was empty, giving them an easy angle of approach to the driver’s-side door.

They paused there, Aaron now looking a little awkward. But this was always the fraught part of a first date, wasn’t it? The tense little pause while they tried to decide whether the time was right for a kiss, all the mental calculus that went into determining if this would be a first date with no follow-up or maybe something more.

In this case, though, Delia already knew how she felt about the situation. Yes, Aaron seemed like a nice guy, and they’d certainly had a pleasant conversation over drinks. However, she hadn’t experienced a single spark while she was with him, letting her know the chemistry just wasn’t there.

And that was fine. She’d tell him she’d had a good time…even as she was inwardly grateful that they’d agreed to split the check, so at least there shouldn’t be any entitlement issues to deal with…and then that would be the end of it. True, she’d still have to see him on a professional basis going forward, but they were both adults.

Sometimes things were meant to be, and sometimes they just weren’t.

“Thanks for meeting me here,” Aaron said. His tone had softened a little, and his dark eyes now seemed almost too piercing, almost black, very different from Caleb’s warm brown.

That direct gaze put Delia instantly on alert. She’d seen that same look on other men’s faces before, and it usually meant they were about to lean in for a kiss.

Which was the last thing she wanted. Aaron was physically appealing enough, she supposed, but he wasn’t the guy for her.

And that was why this needed to end here.