“I am,” I admitted. “He would’ve loved being in the middle of all this before.”
“I think he’ll get there eventually,” Gentry said optimistically, even though we both knew it’d take quite a bit to get him there. Maybe too much to get him there. “This is the clubhouse.”
I looked around, surprised.
Or not.
I mean, I expected Spartan, seeing as this was practically a bachelor’s pad on steroids.
However, this was…
“It’s like a hunting cabin with eight million recliners.”
“Everyone has their own,” he admitted. “I swear they love to see us coming at La-Z-Boy in Bozeman.”
I would imagine so, seeing as there had to be over fifty recliners in the large open space. Some light brown. Some dark. Some old. Some new. Some leather. Some fabric.
“Which one is yours?”
“The one with the sheriff’s blanket on it in the back there,” he pointed to a recliner in the very corner of the room.
“I might have to steal that blanket,” I admitted. “Looks like you went light with leggings and a t-shirt.”
He looked down at his arm that had my clothes hanging off of it.
“I grabbed what was on top of the laundry pile,” he admitted. “Your panties are in my pocket.”
I flushed. “Thanks.”
I was happy that he hadn’t just had them flapping away on his arm. And also there was this sick thrill that went through me that not only had he found me a pair of panties, but he’d also shoved them into his pocket. Almost like a souvenir.
“Let’s head to my room, then you can grab one of my sweatshirts,” he suggested.
I followed him, wondering why my belly was swarming with butterflies all of a sudden.
Eighteen
All oopsies, no daisies.
—Gentry’s secret thoughts
Gentry
Her panties in my pocket felt like they’d been burning a hole there since I’d picked them up.
When I’d gone into her camper, she’d had a fresh pile of laundry—fresh from my washer and dryer—sitting on the counter right inside the door.
I’d spotted the leggings and t-shirt on the top, but I’d dug down to find a pair of underwear.
When I had, I’d hit the motherload at the bottom.
All pink and lacey, the scrap of fabric had looked tiny.
It was barely a bulge in my pocket.
“This is a long hallway.”
“It’s a long building,” I agreed. “It used to be a steel mill. I think it’s something like two hundred and twenty feet long. At some point in the past, it was turned into a ranch so the horses are housed on the other end of the building.”
