Panty Dropper

by Shawn, Melanie

  My life with Blaine in New York didn’t fit anymore, not that it ever really did. But life in Firefly didn’t fit either. I liked the town, the people. But I hadn’t worked my entire life to end up in a small town; just like the one I’d spent the first eight years of my life in.

  I wasn’t sure where I belonged.

  In Billy’s bed.

  I shook that traitorous thought out of my head and prepared to enter the bar. I was even more nervous than the first time I’d stepped through this door. And look how that night had ended…which was exactly why I was so nervous.

  I hadn’t spoken to Billy since our sexy-time sleepover and I had zero experience in how to face someone after having carnal knowledge of them outside of a committed relationship.

  In an attempt to research acceptable behavior, I’d googled post one night stand etiquette, but the advice was primarily focused on night of best-practices, not four days later dos and don’ts. Apparently, this wasn’t a scenario that popped up on Emily Post’s radar.

  From what Nadia’d told me and the whispers I’d heard at the funeral, I felt it was safe to assume that Billy “Panty Dropper” Comfort was a pro at casual flings, so I doubted he was counting the days since we’d been together, or worried about post-hookup etiquette.

  If it were up to me, I’d avoid Billy Comfort at all costs for the rest of my time here in Firefly. Or at least for a few months, hopefully enough time for him to forget about our naughty night. But this wasn’t about me. It was about Cheyenne. Who, just like me, was wrestling with the same struggle to belong that I was. I could tell. But unlike me, she did belong here, she was just having a hard time feeling it.

  As I was standing, frozen in place, a man wearing a Canadian tuxedo and sporting a scraggly white beard and weathered skin, walked past me and pulled on the handle of the large oak door. Holding it open, he removed his ball cap, tipped his head and drawled, “After you, little lady.”

  “Thanks.” I pasted a smile on and forced myself to put one foot in front of the other.

  Once inside, I glanced around and saw that the bar was even more crowded than it had been the last time I’d been there. People were packed in like sardines, standing shoulder to shoulder. I scanned the room and when I didn’t immediately see Cheyenne anywhere, a brilliant plan hit me.

  I could leave and text her later and say that I stopped by and didn’t see her. My conscience would be clean since I wasn’t lying, and I could avoid running into…

  “You’re here.”

  Billy appeared in front of me like I’d conjured him up. He still wore his white shirt and maroon tie, but he was more casual than he’d been at the service. His sleeves were rolled up, the top few buttons were undone and the knot of the tie was loosened, exposing the base of his neck. My mouth watered as I remembered covering that area in open-mouthed kisses and the moan that rumbled in his chest when I did.

  His lips, the ones that had been in my most intimate place, lifted in a smile, which in turn had aforementioned intimate place clenching with need. “I wasn’t sure if you were coming.”

  “I wasn’t sure if I was either, but I heard the first round’s on the house. I couldn’t pass that up,” I joked hoping he didn’t hear the shakiness in my voice.

  “You just missed the group picture.”

  Then my timing was perfect. Cheyenne had mentioned that would be happening and I was glad that I’d been absent. There was no need to have any photographic evidence of my pit stop in Firefly.

  I was trying to come up with appropriate banter when Billy’s large palm rested on my lower back and he kissed me on the cheek. As soon as I felt his lips brush my skin, my breath caught in my throat. “Let’s get you that drink.”

  As he guided me through the crowd, a phenomenon similar to when he was carrying out Cheyenne happened: people moved out of his way. My body instinctively relaxed into his touch—that is, until I heard murmurs and saw several people giving us the side-eye.

  I knew that eye. I’d seen hundreds of people give it to my mother. It was the one that said, can you believe she showed up here, or can you believe she’s wearing that, or can you believe who she’s sleeping with.

  It was the last accusation that really hit home for me. I felt myself stiffen as I shifted away from Billy’s touch. I’d spent my entire life doing everything I could to distance myself from those looks, and I’d be damned if the one night that I’d allowed myself to indulge in my wildest fantasies was going to send me right back to that place.

  Out of my peripheral vision, I saw Billy turn to look at me as his hand fell, but I continued making my way through the crowd. A plan formed in my head as I walked. One drink. Find Cheyenne. Go back to the office. Distance myself from Billy Comfort.

  “What can I get you?” Billy asked as he stepped behind the bar.

  I wanted a shot, maybe even a double, to calm my nerves, but I thought I would go with something classier. “Glass of merlot.”

  I watched Billy twist the corkscrew to open the bottle and I did my best not to drool over the vein that ran up his forearm as he did. It was all I could do not to reach out and touch it, or lick it. My eyes shot straight to his ass when he turned and grabbed a glass from a rack behind him. The sight had my heartbeat traveling down to my core. When he lifted the bottle to pour he glanced at me through dark, thick lashes and the brief eye contact had my entire body going up in flames.

  I reminded myself that we were at a funeral reception, but that didn’t stop the tingles from spreading. It seemed my central nervous system flagged everything Billy said and did as foreplay.

  Nadia was right, this was no ordinary man.

  When I took the glass, I gripped the stem to avoid a finger brushing. If we touched—skin to skin—I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to hold myself accountable for my actions. After a sip, I asked, “Have you seen Cheyenne?”

  His expression hardened, and he gestured with his chin.

  I turned my head and saw Cash at the end of the bar where Cheyenne was sitting. They were leaning in toward each other, involved in what was clearly a deep conversation.

  There was an electricity that seemed to pass as they looked into each other’s eyes, that was evident even from across the room. If the lights were turned out, I was sure that there would be visible sparks flying between them. And even more significantly, in my opinion, was the ease and familiarity in their body language with each other.

  A smile spread on my face. She was obviously in good hands, which meant I didn’t have to feel any guilt for the escape that I was planning.

  When I turned back to Billy and saw the daggers he was shooting their way I quickly concluded that he didn’t share my enthusiasm.

  “Can you believe that?” he said under his breath.

  I wasn’t sure what Billy’s issue with it was, but he clearly had one. Since I didn’t think that he was in the right frame of mind to hear my excitement at the unfolding scene, I played dumb. “What?” I asked, head tilted and eyebrows raised. The picture of innocence.

  His brow furrowed even further. “Those two,” he growled. “Cash and my baby sister.”

  Ah. So that was it. I wondered if he had more of a problem with the “baby” part, or the “sister.” Probably it was spread pretty equally between the two.

  Again. I didn’t think he was in the right frame of mind to hear an argument about them both being adults, so I continued my dumb act. “What about them?”

  “There’s obviously something going on between them.”

  I smiled indulgently. I wondered if his fixation on his “baby sister” might be a good distraction from thinking about burying his father today. I remembered at Hal’s memorial service, I argued with the florist about the arrangement placement. “You think so?”

  “Don’t you?” he shot back, still glaring in the oblivious couple’s direction.

  “Maybe, maybe not. It’s an emotional day, and she doesn’t know many people here. Besides, she’s a twenty-five year old woman. I
’m sure you’re not one of those backwards-thinking men who have double standards when it comes to males and females. Right, Panty Dropper?”

  My use of his nickname got his attention. He turned his head back to me and a slow grin lifted on his face, causing the deep dimple in his left cheek to come out to say hi. “I bet you’re a really good lawyer.”

  That was a reply I hadn’t expected. Which was unusual for me. Part of what did make me a good lawyer was that I had a gift for anticipating any and all possible responses. Cross examination 101: Never ask a question you don’t know the answer to.

  “Why do you say that?” I mused.

  “You’re good at getting your point across and leaving little to no room for argument.”

  I’d always prided myself on that very quality and considered it a good trait. Blaine and my mother likened it to me being a smart ass, but Billy spoke of it as an asset, with admiration in his eyes and voice.

  When I’d told Billy I didn’t want pretty words, I wasn’t just saying it. Pretty words, easy compliments, were cheap and meaningless. All my life, I’d heard people tell my mother how beautiful, stunning, and sexy she was, but they’d never respected her. If anything, she was looked down on because of her appearance. But hearing Billy say what he had the way he had meant more to me than “pretty” words ever would.

  “Ms. York?”

  I stiffened at the sound of a voice behind me, one that I immediately recognized as my boss, Mr. Abernathy. It was low and sonorous, like any good old Southern lawyer’s should be. It was meant to evoke emotion in the people on the receiving end of his words, and it had certainly worked on me just now. I felt a spike of fear jolt through me when I saw Billy’s jaw tighten and his nostrils flare in anger.

  A sinking feeling gathered in the pit of my stomach as I turned around to see the man that I’d yet to meet in person, and who also signed my paychecks. When I did, three things struck me. One he wasn’t as tall as I’d thought he’d be from seeing him at the church and on Skype. Two, the mole on his right cheek was much more prominent this close up. And three, the tension in the air was so thick I could taste it.

  I needed to diffuse this situation as quickly as I could.

  “Mr. Abernathy,” I said, my voice low and steady. I was pleased with myself for putting on a calm front. I’d had plenty of practice and was pretty damn good at it from my years of experience as a lawyer.

  Jennings Abernathy looked me up and down as if he were searching for something, or making an evaluation based on what he saw. “Ms. York, I’m surprised to see you here. I wasn’t aware you were acquainted with the Comforts.”

  The way he uttered the phrase “the Comforts” was more like he was talking about bugs that had infiltrated his house, as opposed to the grieving family hosting the funeral reception he was attending.

  “I handled the disposition of the late Mr. Comfort’s will,” I reminded him. As the senior partner at our small firm, he would’ve been well aware of every case that came through our door.

  “Really? I had no idea,” he said, and my bullshit detector was going off like a fire alarm.

  Why the hell would he lie about that? Why even bring it up in the first place? Why approach me here? Why be here at all?

  I didn’t know the answer to any of those questions, I only knew that when it came to lying, he definitely was.

  He aimed a tight smile at Billy, then, and said, “On days like these, I can’t help but be reminded of your mother’s loss, so many years ago. She was a good woman.”

  Why was this man bringing up Billy losing his mom? What sort of a sociopath was I working for?

  I glanced back over my shoulder and saw that Billy’s face was hard, like it had been chiseled from stone, and when he spoke, his voice was the same. “She was.”

  Abernathy pushed on, and it was clear to me that he was not only aware of Billy’s growing hostility, he was encouraging it.

  “I’ll never forget her, you know. Driving along in that little convertible of hers.” Abernathy stared off blankly. “Listening to Otis Redding, her favorite blue scarf tied around her hair.”

  Oddly enough, I got the impression that the man was actually lost in memory. That it wasn’t a put on. That unsettled me more.

  The next thing I knew, I felt Billy lunge behind me at the same time I saw a large arm whoosh by my head. I looked up and saw Hank standing next to me, reaching across the bar top holding his brother at bay with one arm. Out of the corner of my eye I saw that Jimmy had flanked the other side of me.

  “Abernathy.” The youngest Comfort smiled as he slapped his hand on the man’s shoulder. “Thanks for stopping by. I think it’s time you go.”

  I waited, my pulse in my throat as I willed Abernathy to do as he was asked. Thankfully, he did. Without so much as a glance in Billy’s direction, Jennings Abernathy turned and headed toward the door. I let out a breath of relief. I could still feel the palpable rage radiating off of Billy on my back, but hadn’t expected the murderous look in his eyes when I glanced over my shoulder at him.

  “Get him out of here.” Hank commanded with quiet authority.

  My gaze shot to Hank to see who the eldest Comfort brother was instructing to “get him out of here” and was shocked to find that his eyes were focused on me. Me. Why was Hank asking me?

  Before I came up with an answer Billy’s hands flattened on the bar and he hopped over the counter with ninja like speed and grace, his lethal stare focused on Abernathy’s retreating back.

  On instinct I lifted my hand to his chest. “Billy.” My voice was quiet, so quiet I wasn’t sure it was even audible. But it did the trick. His eyes landed on mine but it was like he wasn’t seeing me. His deep brown stare was clouded with pain, anger, and rage.

  “I need air,” I said calmly keeping my hand in place.

  His heartbeat pounded beneath my palm as his chest rose and fell in short pants. With each second that passed, as he continued staring into my eyes, I could see and feel him begin to relax.

  “Take a walk with me?” I suggested hopefully.

  His response came in a clipped dip of his chin.

  As we exited out the back of the bar there was a hush in the crowd. For some reason a scene from the original Beverly Hills 90210 played in my mind, the one where Dylan runs out of a hotel his father is staying at and smashes a potted plant in anger, scaring Brenda who runs away. He chases her and falls apart in her arms in tears, exorcising demons that had plagued him for years.

  I wasn’t sure why this situation reminded me of that, especially since I wasn’t scared at all. The stakes felt the same though. Billy definitely had demons tormenting him. It was clear that he needed a Brenda, and surprisingly, I’d decided to cast myself in that role.

  CHAPTER 27

  Billy

  My blood was still boiling as I stalked out of the back of the bar with Reagan at my side. I blew right past my truck parked in its usual spot and continued forward, storming through a thicket of trees about a hundred yards behind the building as my mind spun out of control.

  What in the hell was Abernathy playin’ at? It was bad enough he’d had the balls to set foot in Southern Comfort, let alone to talk about my mother on the day we put my Pops in the ground.

  I’d seen red when he’d mentioned her driving with her scarf blowing in the wind. If Hank hadn’t inserted himself between us, I’d have knocked Abernathy’s head off his body. And if Reagan hadn’t stepped in front of me, I’d have finished the job before the man had a chance to leave the premises.

  I was still reeling from the encounter, but as soon as we entered the thicket the atmosphere changed. The sunlight was blocked out by overhanging limbs, leaving us in a thick blanket of shade. A heavy silence hung in the air, broken only by the gentle sounds of leaves rustling and the occasional bird singing.

  “Wow. It feels so magical in here.” Reagan said between shallow breaths.

  When I saw that she was having a difficult time keeping up with my brisk
pace on heels, I slowed my strides. With each step we took, walking side by side, the calmer I began to feel. My pulse slowed and my mind, which had been clouded with fury, cleared.

  “Yeah. I come back here sometimes.” My brothers and I discovered this place after my mom died. “It’s a good place to take a walk. Or even just sit and think.”

  “Well, if you want to add talking to that list, I’m here.”

  As much as I appreciated her offer, I was silent as we strolled between the trees. It wasn’t that I was ignoring her, I was just trying to figure out how to communicate the fucked up tangle of emotions I was having.

  Even before Abernathy had shown his face, I’d been on edge, feeling conflicted about my father and who he was. Normally, I’d keep my internal battles to myself, but something about the setting and the person I was sharing it with affected me like I’d been dosed with truth serum.

  “I don’t know what the truth is,” I said finally. “I had such a concrete idea of my father set in my mind. I would’ve sworn I knew him, good, bad, and ugly. I would’ve thought nothing could surprise me. Hell, I’d lived with the man for eighteen years, and then seen him damn near every day since. But did I actually know him? Or did I just know the bad and the ugly?”

  She nodded in understanding.

  “I don’t think I ever saw him as a human being. Not really. I only saw all the ways he was weak when I needed him to be strong. I only saw all the ways he let me down. I never thought about why. Or who he was, apart from the man that was failing my brothers and me. How could I have been so self-centered?”

  “You were a kid,” she protested. “You were allowed.”

  A bark of laughter ripped from my chest. “Reagan, honey, I haven’t been a kid for a good long while. But I still kept seeing him like that. Still kept treating him like that. And now I’ll never get a chance to change it.”