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.