Ridin' Solo (Sisters From Hell Book 1), Marika Ray [librera reader txt] 📗

enforcement was in her blood and I intended to find out what she meant by that.

“We have to add sequins to the clipboards.” She grabbed a stack of clipboards and handed one to me since I still had the glue gun. “My mom is a stay-at-home mom who’s doing a bunch of charity stuff around town now that us girls are all out of the house. Dad is the chief of police in Auburn Hill.”

Ah. Now it all made sense. “White handlebar mustache?”

She grinned. “Yep, that’s him.”

“So that’s why you take the job as serious as you do.”

She nodded and dumped a bunch of pink and blue sequins on another clipboard and handed it to me to glue. “Yeah. I looked up to him so much growing up. The way he wore the badge with such honor. He’d do anything for the citizens of Auburn Hill, including lay down his life. It seemed like the noblest profession. How could I become anything else, you know?”

I narrowly missed squirting hot glue on my thumb. I was watching the dreamy expression on Oakley’s face more than I was watching my crafting job.

“How come you’re not police?”

Oakley sighed and put another clipboard together for me. “That was my one form of rebellion. I wanted one small thing just for me. As much as I love my dad, I didn’t want our relationship to be why I got the job or the promotion. I wanted to do it on my own. Move up based on my own merit, not because my last name is Waldo. My job means everything, and now I know any and all success I have is because of me.”

A growing sense of pride filled my chest. It wasn’t every day you ran across people noble enough to turn down daddy’s influence to make their own way in the world. I would know because I did it too. And everyone had said I was crazy for it.

I nodded, careful to keep my gaze on the hot glue. As painful as it would be to burn myself, I was more worried about looking at her right now and finding myself falling head over heels in love with her. The thing was, I cared about Oakley. I cared about her as my partner and as a woman. If I wasn’t careful, I could find myself falling for her.

Which would be the opposite of what she wanted.

She wanted to advance in the department and make her dad proud. Dating her partner, when department fraternizing was strictly prohibited, would be a blemish on her otherwise sterling reputation. I’d be taking away the one thing she cared about most.

And I liked her too much to do that to her.

I put the glue gun down and stretched my hand out. Her eyebrows went together and a small smile stretched across her lips.

“Friends?” I asked, actually meaning it.

The smile grew as she took my hand with a shake forceful enough to crack bones as only Oakley would do.

“Friends.”

10

Oakley

“Pull that side up, Oak,” Esme said with a hefty side of frustration.

I pulled it up and taped it, hustling to get off the chair before she found something else wrong with where I’d hung the streamers. She should have just hung them herself, which I’d suggested, but she’d pointed to her tight pencil skirt. Not my fault she didn’t dress properly for a baby shower. Who the hell wears a tight black skirt and stilettos to a freaking baby shower? Then again, when was the last time I’d seen Esme in something that could be described as comfortable or casual?

“We need confetti on this table, you guys,” Izzy said smoothly, the quickness of her voice the only indication she was stressed. She rushed back into our parents’ kitchen to grab whatever appetizer she intended to add to the overflowing table of food. The girl could cook, and boy did she take her responsibilities seriously. Everybody would leave the shower with a food baby as big as Amelia’s baby bump.

Esme dusted more glitter and confetti on the food table wherever there was even a millimeter of tablecloth showing. Dad was going to have a fit with the glitter floating around here. The thought of glitter had me eyeing the table in the living room with the games. The gender reveal cannon was looking better than anything I could have done on my own. As much as I hated to admit it, Wyatt had helped me make it look amazing.

“What’s got that dreamy look on your face, sis?” Esme was back by my side, clipboard in hand, crossing off items.

I blinked and started straightening the twenty dolls lined up on the table to have something to do with my hands. No way would I be answering that question. “You don’t think the doll game is creepy? I mean, look at these things.”

Esme glanced up at the dolls and shrugged, already back to her damn checklist. “Too late to change the game now. Just be glad they aren’t Chucky dolls. Let’s put the raffle gift in the center of the table for maximum effect. We want people donating all kinds of diapers for that sucker.”

I shifted some things on the table and prayed the time would fly by quickly. Trying to set up a party under Esme’s commands was trying at best. The girl was type A to a fault.

“Ooh.”

I glanced over at her to see her lifting the bottle of champagne out of the basket. “Who donated this pretty thing?”

I willed my cheeks to stay calm. Blushing in front of Esme would be like waving a red flag in front of a bull. And I’d had enough encounters with bulls recently. “Uh, Wyatt, I think.”

Esme raised an eyebrow with a look in her eyes that made me want to revert to being a little girl and pulling her hair. “Your new partner? Interesting. I may have to introduce myself. A man who buys excellent champagne is