“Geez, Larry, watch it!” Bobby Belden yelped, cringing when his reckless friend almost clipped the mailbox at the foot of the Beldens’ driveway. Gravel sprayed as they lurched to a stop at the head of the driveway. Larry put the car in park and exchanged a high five with Terry. Twisting to see into the backseat, Larry rolled his eyes at the non-twin of the three musketeers.

“Aw, come on. You weren’t complaining when we were doing donuts in that field,” he reminded Bobby with the infectious grin that always managed to keep him out of trouble. Almost, Bobby wished that he hadn’t taught it to him.

“That was different,” Bobby protested, patting his jeans pockets to make sure he still had his wallet and keys.

Climbing out of the car, he closed the door as quietly as possible, and then waved goodbye to the Lynch twins. He didn’t have a curfew now that he’d graduated and turned eighteen, but even so, he knew he’d be courting disaster if he had to ring the doorbell for someone to let him in at two in the morning. If he were lucky, his mom or dad would open the door. If he weren’t lucky...

He shuddered. If he weren’t lucky, one of his older siblings would open the door, and then he’d never hear the end of it. He loved his brothers and sister.

He did.

But having all of the Bob-Whites home for the entire week before Honey and Brian’s wedding? Well. It was a good thing that Crabapple Farm had stretchy walls. Unfortunately, it did not have carpeted floors, and Bobby froze in horror when he eased open the back door and heard the tell-tale scratch of claws on the hardwood floors.

“Blanche,” he whispered hoarsely. “No. No!” But Blanche was her father’s daughter and “no” was not a word she chose to acknowledge. Not for the first time, Bobby glared at the sedentary Reddy, fast asleep in his dog bed in front of the fireplace. Reddy, Bobby groused to himself, was lucky enough to be mostly deaf, and therefore incapable of hearing most of his daughter’s antics. Or at least good enough at pretending to be deaf, Bobby thought, narrowing his eyes. Reddy had, after all, proven that he was more than proficient in doing whatever he wanted. And what Bobby wouldn’t give to be able to ignore Blanche’s antics! Chewed slippers, torn bags of flour, mud tracked through the entire house...

“What is it now, Blanche?” he whispered, knowing that the pup had been up to something. There was no better time to cause mischief than the middle of the night, after all. Blanche whined and dropped onto her belly in front of him, and then growled eagerly in an invitation to play.

“No, Blanche,” Bobby protested. “We’ll wake everyone up.”

Blanche wiggled her hindquarters and then tugged on the cuff of his jeans. For a puppy, she had sharp teeth and surprising strength. Rather than fight her, Bobby followed, stumbling as she led him through the dark house to the laundry room.

“What is this?” he muttered, stopping to pick up the small, soft piece of fabric that was out of place in the normally tidy room. “A face cloth?” His shoulders sagged. Sure enough, a trail of what had been freshly folded clean laundry now formed a bread crumb trail, tracking the path of the rambunctious puppy. “It’s a good thing Moms loves you,” he told Blanche, knowing that his mother would re-wash the entire load in the morning. With a sigh, Bobby gathered every piece of laundry he could find while Blanche nipped at his heels.

“You owe me,” Bobby warned, staring into huge puppy dog eyes and failing miserably to sound stern. With a happy yip, she followed him to his room, running ahead to inspect every corner and piece of furniture along the way.

“Quiet,” he warned, but Blanche paid no attention, pawing at an invisible foe at Trixie’s bedroom door.

“None of that, now,” Bobby hissed. He scooped her up before she could awaken the snoring princess. But Blanche had something else in her mouth. “Not more laundry!” he groaned. Attempting to pry the cloth from Blanche’s mouth, he finally forced her to relinquish it. “That’s it,” he said, putting the dog down in his bedroom and shoving the laundry in his pocket.

“It’s a good thing you’re cute,” he told her as he sank into bed and pulled up the covers. Blanche settled on his feet, her weight awkward, but a comfort, too. The cares of the day fell away and Bobby drifted into a heavy sleep.

The sound of thundering of hooves woke him early the next morning. Sunshine flooded his room, the quilt he’d pulled over his head to shield himself from its brightness useless. The pounding hooves returned, this time stopping directly in front of his door.

“Come on, Belden,” a familiar voice called. “Daylight’s burning. Are you coming or not?”

“Not,” Bobby muttered, and added the pillow to his protection system. Unfortunately, it wasn’t any more effective than the quilt at blocking noise and light.

“Pancakes are on the table,” Dan informed him, still outside his door. “And Mrs. Belden said to tell you that you’re welcome to clean the attic if you want to stay home today.”

Bobby’s groan was both heartfelt and resigned. He threw off the covers and staggered to his feet, all the while frowning at Blanche. She was still in the same spot on the bed, completely undisturbed. Staying up half the night playing with the laundry had tuckered her out, and Bobby couldn’t help wishing he had the same freedom to set his own hours. But the aroma of bacon wafting up from the kitchen went a long way toward improving his disposition.

“I’m coming,” he called to Dan.

“Better hurry,” he replied, his voice growing fainter as he headed down the hall. “Mart’s already up, and you know how long food lasts when he’s around.”

Having missed out on his fair share of bacon over the years, Bobby did know. With a muffled curse he hopped on one leg, struggling to pull on the jeans he’d left on the floor the previous night. Tugging a shirt over his head as he opened his door, he called, “There better still be bacon.”

He blinked blearily as he joined the happy confusion of the kitchen. It was strange enough having his siblings home to disturb the relative peace of the past few years, but when Jim and Dan were added to the early morning mix, it was enough for him to consider inviting himself over to Larry and Terry’s for the rest of the week.

“I saved you some,” Dan replied, handing him a plate heaped with pancakes and bacon. The syrup had spread from the pancakes to the bacon, just the way he liked it.

“Thanks,” he said, leaning back against the kitchen counter to eat because the table was too crowded.

“No problem,” Dan said, and then did a slow double take. “Dude. I thought you were out with Larry and Terry last night.”

“I was,” Bobby said, holding the plate with one hand and using a fork to try to cut the pancakes. He looked up in time to see D an quirk an eyebrow.

“What?” he asked, tracking a piece of pancake through the syrup on his plate. He would never tell her so, but Brian’s pancakes were every bit as good as his mother’s. “We saw a movie at the Cameo and then stopped at Wimpy’s for a burger.” No need to mention the detour through the abandoned field west of Sleepyside where they’d spent half an hour doing doughnuts. The Bob-Whites were cool and all, but they weren’t exactly teenagers anymore. He chewed and swallowed an oversized piece of pancake, closing his eyes as the sugar hit his system.

“Oh, that’s good,” he groaned, for the first time feeling as if he could face the day and whatever male bonding activity Jim, as the best man, had come up with. If he was lucky, it would involve horses. If he was unlucky, it would also include mucking out the stalls. Horses were cool and all, but he wasn’t a Bob-White. He and Larry and Terry had grown up riding dirt bikes, not horses. He balanced his fork on the plate and crammed an entire slice of bacon in his mouth.

“Slow down,” Jim advised, exchanging a sidelong glance with Brian before giving Bobby a serious look. “You’ve got plenty of time.”

Bobby tried to swallow, failed, and tried again. What was Jim talking about? Everyone else was finished eating. They were in a hurry, weren’t they? “That’s not what Dan said,” Bobby protested.

Brian gave Dan a dark look. “Maybe Dan isn’t the best person to take advice from,” he said.

Bobby coughed on the bacon he was still trying to swallow, and then checked Dan’s reaction to the barb. Instead of taking offense, Dan shrugged, a very small, slightly smug grin on his face.

“All we’re saying is that there’s no need to rush into things,” Mart interjected, his round blue eyes wide. “When you meet the right person—”

“What? Mart!” Bobby exclaimed, his fork clattering to the floor. “Brian’s the one getting married, not me!”

“Exactly!” Jim agreed, holding Bobby’s plate while he bent to pick up the utensil. “Brian’s getting married. Because he’s ready to make a life-long commitment.”

Bobby stared at the redhead blankly. This was news? The four male Bob-Whites stared back, waiting for him to respond. Bobby, however, had no clue what they were looking for.

“Geez, Bobby,” Mart said, getting up from the table and giving him a smart tap to the back of his head. “All we’re saying is physical relationships are better if you wait until you’re with someone you really care about.” Leaning over, Mart pulled at something in Bobby’s pocket.

“Hey! Watch it!” Bobby protested, shoving at Mart’s hand before he saw what Mart was holding.

“There it is!” Trixie exclaimed, breezing through the kitchen and snagging the tiny lace thong from Mart. “I’ve been looking all over for my underwear! Moms did laundry, but Blanche must have gotten to it last night. I thought I heard you in the laundry room when you got home.” She gave Bobby a hug, pocketed her underwear, and snitched a slice of bacon from Dan’s plate.

Using the crispy bacon to point at Mart, she said, “When you and Di get married, you better ask me to be a groomsman, because I’m never doing the bridesmaid thing again. Do you know what I’m doing today while you’re all out waterskiing? I’m having a fancy brunch in the city with every female relative Honey has. Do you know how many times I have to dress up this week?” She shook her head. “It’s a good thing I love you and Honey so much,” she said, and gave Brian a kiss on the cheek.

“Anyway, I’m late,” she said, and breezed through the kitchen and out the back door. “See you tonight for the cookout at the lake!”

The five men stared after her, the room completely silent in Trixie’s wake.

“So you weren’t out with a girl last night?” Brian asked, clearing his throat.

“Nope,” Bobby answered, grinning at his eldest brother’s discomfort. “No panty-stealing, either,” he assured him.

Brian and Mart both blanched, realizing that they’d just seen way more of their sister’s underwear than they wanted. Bobby tried not to think about the fact that he’d had his sister’s unmentionables in his pocket. Dan and Jim didn’t seem nearly as horrified, though Jim’s face was suspiciously red. And Dan still had that smug smile...

Bobby was happy to be diverted from that train of thought when Blanche bounded through the kitchen, a sock hanging from her mouth. Too slow to rescue the laundry, five men watched the dog bound through the screen door Trixie had left open.

“Well,” Dan said, dusting his hands as he stood, “if we’re back to taking my advice, I say we get this show on the road. We want to have as much time on the lake as possible.”

As everyone began clearing the breakfast mess, Bobby couldn’t help grinning. It was going to be an awesome day of waterskiing. And a cookout at the lake with the girls? Well, that would be the perfect place to hear what he was sure would be an epic tale about someone at the formal brunch noticing the underwear jammed in her pocket that Trixie had no doubt already forgotten about.