Page 83 of Panty Dropper

Confusion clouded her gaze. She opened her mouth but then closed it, she shook her head, and turned back to face forward. “Nothing.”

I knew what she’d wanted to ask. Why had I asked for the clause but then not followed through with any sentiment? But I couldn’t tell her the real reason, and the silence hanging in the air between us was awkward as hell, so I decided going full-blown smartass was the best course of action.

“I’m just giving you time to bank some compliments for me.” I hoped she didn’t see through me as I slowly pulled onto the road.

“How generous of you.”

“I thought so.”

As we drove down the road she turned to look out the window and I wondered what was going on in that pretty head of hers.

These rolling country backroads were my home. They were in my blood every bit as much as the bar, or my family itself. I was proud of them. They were me, my identity. The fact that she couldn’t stop watching the beautiful countryside as it passed by the truck window with that gorgeous, awestruck expression on her face tightened the string she had me on around her little finger. Seeing her appreciation of the land I loved had me feeling all types of things that I’d never felt before. It had me dreaming of getting on one knee and promising her forever.

Finally, I brought the truck to a stop next to a rusty iron gate.

She turned to me, a small smile playing on her lips as if she thought I was pulling a practical joke. Her voice was warm as she teased, “Did we run out of gas?”

I just winked at her and hopped out of the truck, then jogged over to the gate. I opened it and then got back in the truck and drove us through, hopping out again to close it behind us after we’d passed it.

When I climbed back up in the cab for the final time, Reagan demanded, “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

She glanced out the back window, and when she spoke, her voice was high and tight. “That sign said private property.”

“It is private property,” I assured her. “Mine.”

She sat up straighter, then looked around at the view out over the front dash. “Really?”

“I bought this acreage a few years ago. One day, I’ll build my dream house on it.”

I wasn’t sure what I was waiting for. I kept putting it off. A week passed, then a month, then years. Something had been holding me back. I hadn’t told anyone that I owned it. Not my dad, when he was alive. Not my brothers. The only people aware of the fact that I held the deed to this slice of heaven was the county recorder’s office.

“It’s gorgeous!” Her voice came out as nearly all air, like the sheer beauty of the land had taken her breath away.

Pride swelled in my heart, even more insistent than it had been before. This was personal, now, in a much more real way. This wasn’t just Reagan enjoying the scenery of the hills that had raised me. This was her specifically saying that she thought my land was gorgeous.

It felt like a prize. Like I’d won a million bucks.

“Just wait,” I told her, pulling the truck forward. “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet. A river runs smack dab down the middle of the property, and there’s a real pretty bend in it. I packed us a picnic.”

“A picnic? Really?!” Her face lit up with childlike excitement. She bit her lip and sat back, then brought her hands together in front of her and rubbed them in anticipation.

My dick sprang to life in my jeans.

I hadn’t popped this many boners since I’d sat in the front row of my seventh grade math class. My teacher Mrs. Lemon was built like a brick house, 36-24-36, and wore button up shirts that barely restrained her generous mounds. When Mad Men came out, I did a double take when I saw the actress who played Joan because at first glance, I thought it was Mrs. Lemon.

I was obsessed with the lady and spent the entire year tucking my erection between my legs so I didn’t bruise the tip from it hitting my desk. It didn’t matter how much I’d tried not to stand at attention, when I saw Mrs. Lemon I was at full salute.

That was how I felt around Reagan. My body had a mind of its own. I had zero control. It didn’t seem to matter what she was wearing, what she was saying, what she was doing. I found one version of her more sexy than the last. She was impossible to resist.

I pulled the truck to a stop at the picnic spot I’d chosen and turned off the ignition. She reached out to grab the handle and I put a hand on her shoulder. “Wait here.”

I jumped out and hurried around to her side. I opened the door and put my hand out to help her, grasping her elbow as she navigated the steps down from the tall cab in her high heels and suit pants. She smiled when her feet were finally on the ground, straightening her shoulders and tugging on her blouse. “Thanks. You’re quite a gentleman.”

I tipped my ball cap and lifted the picnic basket out of the truck bed. She took one step on the uneven ground and her heel got caught in the soft dirt. She laughed. “I’m not exactly dressed for this.”

“Sorry, city girl.” I apologized as I steadied her arm while she worked to get her shoe unstuck. When the heel was freed I moved in front of her and lowered myself down. “Hop on.”

“Hop on?”

I glanced over my shoulder and bent my knees farther. “Yep. Your chariot awaits.”

Her face filled with a wide smile and she threw her arms around my neck, jumped up and wrapped her legs around me. She held on tight as I made my way down to a small, flat expanse a few feet from the water’s edge. When we arrived at our destination, I stopped and Reagan slid down off of me.

I spread a blanket out on the ground, and Reagan settled herself down on it, taking off her shoes and pulling her hair up in a bun atop her head. She turned her face up to the sun and closed her eyes, and damn, did I wish I had a camera at that moment. She made such a pretty picture.

I looked around. This land. This woman. It felt like a significant and critical moment in my life. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was standing on the site of my future home with the woman who would one day share it with me.

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