Page 40 of Panty Dropper

My eyes widened. “Oh shit, you used to do that all the time when you were a kid! I totally forgot about it until just this minute.”

She tilted her head to the side, her eyes drawn together in puzzlement.

I jutted my chin toward her legs, still crossed on the seat of the chair. “That,” I clarified. “Every time you got so excited about the meal in front of you that you just couldn’t contain yourself, you’d pull your legs up and do crisscross applesauce right before you started eating.”

She glanced down, surprise covering her face, as if her legs weren’t a part of her body but rather something completely outside herself. “Oh, God! I’m so sorry. That’s such awful table manners. Grandmother and grandfather would be horrified if they saw me doing that. It’s such a terrible habit—”

I cut off her self-deprecation. “I don’t see either of them around here. This is my house and you do whatever makes you feel comfortable. That’s my definition of good table manners. Besides, I’m kind of enjoying watching you Hoover up the breakfast I cooked and loving every last drop of it. Makes a cook feel appreciated. And it’s nice taking care of my baby sister again.”

She smiled, the warmth of it lighting up her entire face and filling my heart with one fell swoop. Her shoulders relaxed. Damn, I hadn’t even realized how tense they’d been until she relaxed them.

After a few minutes of eating in silence, a sly little mischievous glint appeared in her eyes as she peered at me through thick lashes. “So, I woke up about halfway this morning when I heard some shuffling around in the living room and the front door opening. Was I still dreaming, or did I see Reagan sneaking out of here in the early dawn hours?”

I was silent for a long moment, trying to figure out what the right response would be. It was nobody’s business that Reagan had spent the night, even if Cheyenne had caught her.

When I didn’t answer, Cheyenne shrugged and went back to eating her breakfast. Between bites, she clarified, “Then again, what do I know? I’m pretty hungover. Maybe I dreamed it.”

The smirk I spied after she said that let me know that she didn’t believe those words any more than she’d believe the sky was purple, but it was a sweet way of giving me an out so I wouldn’t have to say anything about it.

Yeah. She’d always been a sweet kid. I was happy to see that all those years hadn’t changed her. Emotion welled up in me as I said, “Hey, Shadow?” She looked up, face open and expectant, and I smiled. “I’m really glad you’re home.”

Tears glittered in her eyes, tugging at my big brother heartstrings, and she said, “Thanks, Billy. So am I.”

My phone vibrated in my pocket cutting our brother-sister Folgers coffee moment short. I pulled it out and was disappointed when I saw that it was a message from Hank. I hadn’t even realized that I’d been hoping it was Reagan until I saw my brother’s name. I’d never felt like this the morning after. I read my brother’s text as questions about Reagan populated my mind.

What time had she snuck out?

What was she thinking about last night?

Did she really want it to be a one night only event or was she willing to consider an encore?

“Everything okay?” Cheyenne asked.

I nodded. “What do you have planned for today?”

“Um, I’m not sure.” She looked down at the clothes that she’d slept in, the same ones that she’d worn the day before. “I’m going to need to go back to my room, shower, and change.”

“Well, Hank called a family meeting so add that to your to-do list.”

Her forehead crinkled. “Are you sure he wants me to come? I mean, I’ve been gone—”

“Shadow, you’re family. Doesn’t matter if twenty years or fifty years pass. You are a Comfort.”

The smile that spread across my little sister’s face took away a little bit of the sting I was feeling from Reagan’s disappearing act this morning. I may not have known what the hell I was doing with lawyer lady, but when it came to family, I knew exactly what to do.

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