Page 87 of Panty Dropper

Whatever I had to do, however far I had to go. Didn’t matter.

“Billy, this was amazing bu—”

“What are your plans this afternoon?” I interjected when I heard the but coming.

“Um…” She brushed her hair behind her ear and I could see that her plans depended on what I was going to suggest.

Part of me knew that if I’d asked her to come back to my place and spend the day in bed, she’d pass. As much of a blow to my ego as that was, it wasn’t what I had in mind. “I was wondering if you’d help me with something.”

She perked up, tilted her head to the side. “I’m listening.”

“I don’t remember a whole lot about when my mama was alive, but I remember her writing journals. I can see her, plain as day, her long hair falling over her shoulder as she sat at the kitchen table, the look of concentration on her face as she wrote. The sound of the pen scratching at the pages. I thought if I found them, I might be able to learn more about her. Also, Hank mentioned that Pop said something about a trust, and I figured if there was any documentation it might be up with them.”

Reagan sat up. She was all business now, in lawyer mode. There was a case to solve and she was on it. “Do you know where those journals are now?”

“If they’re still around, they have to be up in the attic at the old homestead. Pop never could bring himself to go through Mama’s things. He just packed them up and moved them up to the attic. I don’t think anyone’s touched them for years.”

She nodded, the wheels in her head visibly spinning. “Okay. Are you going to go look for them?”

I grinned and took her chin in my hand, planting a kiss on her plump and luscious lips. “Darlin’ I think the real question is, are we?”

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