Page 96 of Panty Dropper

CHAPTER 41

Billy

“Last call!” I shouted to the dozen or so patrons still in the bar.

Normally, midweek crowds were scarce, and Wednesdays were one of our slower nights. But during spring break, there were no slow nights. Since I’d unlocked the doors at five, I hadn’t had a minute of downtime. Sadly, that hadn’t stopped my mind from being consumed with other things. If I wasn’t thinking about the journals that were still sitting in the box in my garage untouched, I was thinking about the woman I’d found them with.

When I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket, I pulled it out and, for probably the hundredth time in the past few days, I was disappointed to see the sender of the message was not Reagan.

This time, it was Cheyenne asking if she could borrow my truck to go out to an early morning workout at my friend Harlan Mitchell’s place. He’d stopped by a few days ago and asked if it was okay to put up fliers in the bar, and since I had a soft spot for Meemaw Mitchell, I’d caved.

Since I didn’t trust Harlan as far as I could throw him, I texted her back that I’d take her. It’s not like it’d be interrupting my sleep. The past few days, I’d spent my time in bed tossing and turning, trying not to obsess over the woman that haunted my every waking and sleeping thought.

On Sunday, Reagan had insisted I drop her back off at Mrs. B’s. I’d wanted so badly for her to come home with me or invite me in, but she hadn’t done either. It was so strange not to have any idea what she was thinking or what she wanted.

I’d texted her Monday and didn’t hear back, but I figured she was busy. Then I texted twice yesterday, still no response. I even dropped off flowers at the boarding house during a break last night. She hadn’t answered, but I knew she was there. When I went to text her this afternoon to ask her if she found the flowers I’d left at the door, it looked so pathetic having three unreturned texts that I broke down and called her. It went to voicemail after two rings.

I didn’t need to see a rom-com or ask Greg Behrendt to know that she was making it clear she just wasn’t that into me.

I’d tried not to jump to conclusions, and had even gone as far as to make excuses for her radio silence. She had a demanding job. We weren’t anything official to each other. But when it came down to it, I knew better than most that if someone is interested, they make the time. She wasn’t.

She was supposed to be picking up the keys for the house on Saturday and I was wondering if that was still going to happen. Three days of zero communication didn’t bode well for either our friends-with-clauses or landlord-tenant relationships.

After making sure everyone at the bar was served their last drinks, I walked into the pool table room to clean up.

“Panty dropper,” Skittles squawked.

When I heard the laughter behind me I knew exactly whose benefit it had been for. Jimmy had trained the damn bird to call me that. She only ever did it whenever my dumbass brother was around.

“Good girl, Skitts. You’re such a good girl.” Jimmy cooed.

I grabbed several bottles and motioned to the high tops in the corner that needed clearing. “Make yourself useful.” I barked. I hadn’t meant to, but my patience was running on empty these days.

“Someone’s in a good mood,” he observed sarcastically, staying where he was, not making any effort to clean up.

“What’s up, Jimmy?”

My little brother never stopped by at closing time during tourist season because he had sunrise tours every morning. So seeing him here, now, was very out of character.

“I’ve heard that you’ve been mopey.”

“Mopey? What am I a dwarf?”

The second the question left my mouth I wished I could take it back. At six foot two, Jimmy took great pride that he stood a half an inch taller than me and a full inch taller than Hank.

“Yes. You are. I’ve been saying it forever, and I’m glad you’ve finally come to accept it.”

Yeah, I walked right into that one.

“So, Mopey. What happened with Reagan?”

Damn, I wish I knew.“Nothing.”

“Nothing happened?”

“Nope.” I walked around Jimmy to the outdoor patio and he followed behind me. I removed the trash bag from the bin, tied it off, and replaced it.

“So Hank comes home to find you two sneaking around in the attic on Sunday like two teenagers. He says you couldn’t stop looking at her long enough for him to put the fear of God in you, and convince you of the surefire certainty that he would kick your trespassing ass if you ever pulled a stunt like that again. I think he called it ‘Reagan Blinders.’

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