Page 100 of Panty Dropper

I looked away, ignoring the pheromones I responded to whenever I was within a one-mile radius of William Comfort. I’d managed to keep my distance from him for seventy-two hours and I’d hoped that in that time I would’ve been able to build up an immunity to him, but the physical reaction I was experiencing assured me I had not.

Every exploding synapse in my brain was totally consumed with thoughts about how soft Billy’s lips were. How strong and protective his hands felt as they rested on my hips. I had to actively not allow myself to walk straight up to him and stake my claim by kissing him silly.

After several deep breaths, I managed to gather my wits about me. This was so out of character for me. I was never impulsive like this, and I really never gave in to temptations just because they felt good. I was a rule-follower. I was pragmatic. I was disciplined.

Not when I was with Billy, though. When he was around, I suddenly found I had a wild side I’d been previously unaware of. It was both intoxicating and addicting…two things I did my best to avoid.

“All right, now, settle down. Let’s get started.”

I turned to see where the voice was coming from. A man had joined the group. He wore a faded cowboy hat, flannel button-down, jeans, and a pair of boots that had clearly seen more than one day in the dirt.

Cheyenne asked Nadia, “Who’s that?”

She leaned in so she could speak low. “That’s Harlan Mitchell. He was a few years ahead of me in school. This is his family’s place.”

Cheyenne’s eyebrows shot up. “He’s not dressed for working out.”

“I mean…it is called Farm Strong. He’s dressed for the farm,” Nadia pragmatically pointed out.

I covertly snuck a glance in Billy’s direction, he wore sweats and a T-shirt and the sleeves molded to his biceps. It was downright drool inducing.

Harlan’s voice rang out in the crisp, spring morning air again. “All right, now. The first thing we’re gonna do is called the Feed Bag Carry. You see that pallet truck with bags of feed piled on it? They need to go in the barn. Stacked in the right-hand corner.” He pulled an ancient-looking stopwatch out of his pocket. “I’m timing y’all. You have ten minutes.”

We all just stood there staring at him until he clapped his hands together, sending a sharp crack through the air. “Come on, now! Time’s a-wastin’!”

I looked at Cheyenne and she just shrugged and walked over to the truck. A few other people followed.

The two women who’d been flirting with Billy followed behind him like ducklings as he made his way toward me. I turned on my heels and pulled one of the bags of feed onto my shoulder and headed toward the barn. By the time I was halfway there, my legs were burning. By the third trip, I thought I just might die. I did have to admit I was going extra fast and sometimes really out of my way, to make sure I didn’t run into Billy during the trips.

At one point, Nadia turned to me and laughed. “You do realize that we’re just doin’ Harlan’s chores, right? He’s figured out how to make citiots do his work and pay for the privilege.”

“Citiots?”

“Oh, you know. City. Idiots. The port practically manteaus itself.”

“The port does what now?” I asked, not having a clue what my friend was talking about.

“It manteaus itself.”

“Still not following.”

“Portmanteaus, it means two words combining to make another word. Like breakfast and lunch, brunch.”

“Oh right. Wasn’t that on our toilet paper?” In college Nadia, the English major, insisted on having Word of the Day toilet paper.

“Maybe.” She squinted before lifting her arm and wiping her forehead with back of her hand.

Seeing her sweating at six thirty in the morning on her vacation doing a workout for “citiots” caused me to come down with a sudden case of friend-guilt. “I’m sorry I dragged you into this.”

She shrugged. “It’s actually a pretty decent workout. Besides, you gotta admire that kind of devious hustle.”

“Hey, you two! Get moving! We’re not here to exercise your yaps! Move it!”

Harlan’s voice rang out over the field and Nadia spun around, her hands propped on her hips. “Harlan Mitchell, you keep that up and I’m gonna tell your Meemaw how you were talkin’ to ladies.”

He dipped his head, looking appropriately chastised. Nadia turned back to me and we got back to work, on our terms.

After moving bags of feed came digging holes for fence posts, then clearing rocks from a field. I could feel Billy’s eyes on me like a physical touch, but I did my best to ignore him. Logically, I knew he hadn’t done anything wrong, but in reality, I’d been looking for a reason to distance myself from him.

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