My dog eating her underwear fit with the weird circumstances, but not with the ‘normal’ part.
My phone beeped with a new text.
REAGAN: I’m at home. Why?
ME: Can I stop by and talk to you for a minute?
REAGAN: If you’re lucky, you’ll catch Aunt Bethel between bitching fits.
ME: Sounds thrilling. I’ll be there in ten.
REAGAN: I’ll save your ears and wait outside.
I was pretty intrigued by the endless bitching fits from her aunt, but after that one meeting we’d had, I wasn’t too upset to have to miss it.
I turned the key in the ignition and pulled out of the parking lot. It didn’t take me long at all to get across town, and when I parked outside her parents’ house, she was sitting on the top step on her phone. Her hair was piled into a bun on top of her head, and it didn’t look as though she was wearing any makeup.
She looked up and smiled when I got out. “Hey. How was work?”
“Nobody set anything on fire today, so pretty good.” I returned her smile as she stood up and jumped down the last step.
She adjusted the waistband of her yoga pants and stopped right in front of me. “Always a bonus.”
She looked so awkward standing there. Almost like she wasn’t sure if she should touch me or not.
It was an interesting development. The Reagan I’d come to know was strong-willed and outspoken and confident, but this Reagan was shy and hesitant.
And so fucking adorable.
I put her out of her misery and wrapped my arms around her shoulders. She laughed quietly as she circled hers around my waist, returning the hug.
“So what did you want to talk about?” she asked, stepping back and resting her hands on her hips.
“Right.” I held up one finger and took out my wallet.
“Whoa, you’re not giving me money, are you? That’s a little awkward after we’ve slept together.”
Laughing, I pulled out the pink striped gift card. “No, I’m not giving you money. Don’t worry.”
“Thank God. I didn’t want to have to punch you in your pretty face.”
And she was back.
“First, I want to say sorry about Poosh.”
She tapped my arm. “You already apologized. It happened. I’m not mad. Your boxers are extremely comfy, and I should warn you now that you’re not getting those back.”
I laughed into my hand. “Good to know. Between you and the dog, I’ll be the one going commando.”
“Don’t worry. Santa brings underpants for Christmas in our family.” Her eyes sparkled with laughter. “Seriously, it’s fine. Lesson learned not to leave my panties on your floor.”
“Just don’t wear any the next time you come over. Problem solved.” I smirked. “Here. This is yours.”
She took the proffered gift card and stared at it for a moment. Confusion shone bright in her eyes when she met my gaze. “What is this?”
“It’s a gift card. To replace your underwear.” I put my hands in my pockets and rocked on the balls of my feet. “I went by the store after work to actually buy you a pair, but holy fuck, how do you know what to buy there?”
She laughed, resting her forehead against my chest.
“Seriously. She tried showing me all these different types of underwear and I nearly had a stroke.” I rested my hands on her upper arms. “How? How do you decide?”
She pulled back and peered up at me. “It’s an art form, perfected over many years of wearing uncomfortable underwear until you find the one that fits. It’s a bit like dating.”
That made sense. “Well, like I said, I didn’t know which pair you’re currently in a relationship with, so I got you the card instead.”
“That is a weirdly sweet apology.” She held the card up and smiled. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” I brushed some wispy strands of hair away from her eyes. “There’s fifty bucks on there.”
“Fifty dollars? Do you think my panties are stitched with gold?”
“No—no!” I laughed and rubbed my hand down my face. “If Poosh stole your underwear, it means she likes you. She’s probably going to do it again.”
“Ahh.” Understanding flashed across her face and she tapped me on the nose with the card. “So this is like a panty pre-payment system. Stock up before she steals them all.”
“I thought of it as several apologies in advance, but a panty pre-payment system works, too.”
Reagan grinned, and her eyes twinkled with it. “Am I leaving them at your house so I don’t have to keep stealing yours?”
“I hadn’t considered it,” I admitted. “I figured you’d just keep them in your purse.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Did I just freak you out?”
“About keeping your underwear in my apartment? Normally, yes, but given Poosh’s little obsession? Not really.” I shook my head.
“All right. Hold on a second.” She spun and walked back up to the house. She flashed me a quick grin before she disappeared inside, shoving the door shut behind her.
What the hell was she doing?
I put my hands in my pockets and clicked my tongue while I waited for her to come back out.
She skipped out of the door with mischief written all over her face. She came right up to me and pulled my hand from my pocket before she stuffed something in my hand.
“I’m afraid to ask,” I said, meeting her eyes.
Her smile was wide and playful. “A pair of my underwear.”
I ran my tongue over my lips. “Thank you?”
“No!” She grabbed my arm, laughing. “You said you’re not freaked out about the idea of having my underwear at your house, so you can take a pair of my underwear to your house.”
“Not that it isn’t thoughtful or practical,” I said slowly. “But I was thinking that you’d take the pair there yourself.”
“I could,” she mused. “But I’m having dinner with the girls tonight. I don’t have time to go shopping to buy new underwear, and I’m not hauling a pair to a restaurant in my purse.”
“That still doesn’t explain why I need to take these right now.” I held up my fist.
“Oh.” She stepped closer to me, smiling coyly. “I was going to get a cab to your place after we’ve had dinner.”
I paused. I didn’t even need to think about that, to be honest.
I stuffed her underwear in my pocket with a nod. “Shall I leave the door unlocked or do you want to keep that key?”
She grinned. “You’ve got my underwear. I’ll keep your key. Look at that—a booty call you don’t even have to get out of bed for.”
I grabbed her and pulled her into me before kissing her firmly. “You’re no booty call, Reagan.”
Our eyes met, and her smile softened. “Shall I bring anything with me?”
“Yes. A toothbrush.”
“Why a toothbrush?”
“Your panties are in my pocket. A toothbrush seems like a logical step.”
She fell into me, burying her face in my neck as she laughed. “Now that I’ll carry around in my purse.”
***