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

cool the embers of my anger. I had a flash of Amelia and Titus, staring into each other’s eyes as they tried to feel the baby kick for the first time after we ate dinner last night. My heart clenched, and the anger died away, leaving an ache that was ten times worse.

I’d said honesty was important to me. It was time to walk the talk.

“Look, Wyatt. I want a partner in life. I want a house with a white picket fence and three-point-five children as crazy as my sisters. And I want the career. I want it all. But being honest is the only way to get any of that in a way that works for me. So, tell me what’s stopping you from telling the sheriff about us.” I grabbed his hand, rubbing my thumb across his solid knuckles. “Just tell me, Wyatt.”

The muscle in Wyatt’s jaw clenched over and over again, the silence drawing out. He finally squeezed my hand and let go, his gaze moving out the windshield.

“It’s just not that easy for me, Oakley. If I tell you everything now—well, let’s just say that will lead to bigger problems for us.”

I shook my head, thoroughly confused. “So…what? That’s it? We’re just done because you can’t be honest with me? You don’t even want to try?”

The dispatcher’s voice came through the radio. “We’ve got a situation out by the highway. Apparently Janey’s goats broke through the fence and are roaming around on the road. Already had one accident reported.”

I closed my eyes and inhaled deep. We had work to do. Our argument would simply have to wait.

“We’re on it,” Wyatt radioed back.

I flipped on the lights and headed out to Janey’s goat yoga property.

“This conversation isn’t over,” I said quietly.

Wyatt didn’t even answer me, just stared out the windshield as we whizzed past farmland. See? This was exactly why I shouldn’t make decisions based on emotion and impulse. Passion was a fickle beast, making you do things you’d never do otherwise. And when the passion fizzled, which it always did, what were you left with?

Disappointment.

17

Wyatt

Oakley went so deep into the ice-queen mode with me today, I was afraid my nuts would crack and fall right off. Damn, the woman knew how to put the frost in a conversation. Sure, I’d botched her chat with the sheriff, and basically given her no reason at all to trust that I wanted more than a casual fuck, but did she have to ice me out like that before I had a chance to explain?

Thankfully, we stayed busy all day with calls, ending our shift right on time and without a chance for more awkward conversations about feelings I hadn’t had a chance to even comprehend, let alone articulate. I still hadn’t decided what to do with Oakley and my past and our possible future. No matter which way I twisted things, Oakley and I having a future was feeling less and less like a possibility.

Oakley climbed out of the car and slammed the door shut before I could get to my feet. She went to the trunk to get the fingerprinting machine that had failed to work yet again. One downside to working in a small county was the lack of resources for things like machines that actually worked when out in the field. I met her at the back of the car, feeling like I owed her one hell of an explanation for how I’d been behaving.

“Are we going to talk, or are you just going to—”

“Wyatt?” A female voice squealed from behind me. I turned, dread snaking up my spine. I knew that voice well.

“Emmeline?”

My sister, younger than me by seven years, came sauntering across the parking lot, her towering wedges, low-cut summer dress, and wide-brimmed hat looking all kinds of out-of-place out here in the country. She had a wide smile on her face, her hands clasped below her chin as her huge suede bag—probably worth more than the cruiser we’d driven all day—swung off her shoulder.

“It is you! Oh my God, let me look at you.” She moved around me in a circle, faster than I could gather my thoughts.

Oakley stood off to the side, her head tilted, watching my sister like you would an exotic animal from the zoo. Emmeline stopped in front of me, cutting off Oakley, and peered up with her face all scrunched up.

“You’re so cute in your little uniform, bubby,” she cooed.

Jesus H. Christ. She was using the nickname she’d given me when she was a baby. I heard Oakley snort while my balls shriveled up. Damn, the poor bastards had been frozen and leeched of their manhood all in the span of one day.

“Em. This is my partner, Oakley.” I took my sister’s arm and tried to move her out of the way. She nearly went down in her ridiculous shoes, but I steadied her. “Oakley, this is my sister, Emmeline.”

Oakley’s smile turned more genuine, and she stuck out her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

Emmeline’s shoulders came up to her ears, and she bounced on her toes. “Oh! I’ve always wanted to meet a real live lady cop! You are adorable. And quite badass. I’m so impressed.”

She threw her hands out wide, and I cringed. Emmeline flung her arms around Oakley’s shoulders and squeezed her tight, rocking side to side before Oakley could push her off, which she did lightning quick. Emmeline almost went down again, but I kept her upright. I was used to that being my job. The girl never wore appropriate attire, and it fell to me, as her brother, to watch out for her. I wondered who took care of her lately, now that I wasn’t around.

Oakley eyed us both like we weren’t to be trusted. The woman always had good instincts. “I didn’t know you had a sister.”

Em’s bottom lip rolled out, and I knew the epic pout was coming. “What kind of brother doesn’t talk about his