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

of my uniform shirt and pulled, not budging me from my seat, but getting my attention just the same.

“Get your ass back home, brother. We are a family. It’s about time you remember you have one.”

She let go of my shirt, grabbed her latte, and spun on her high heel. She was out the door and waving to Mrs. Trudowsky on the sidewalk outside before I could formulate a response. Heads had swiveled in my direction at Em’s outburst. They probably thought I’d been handed my ass in a lover’s quarrel. If only they knew it was much worse.

If I didn’t want to break the family ties I still had, I’d have to face the one family member who had me tied in knots. The saddest thing was, he wasn’t even here anymore to argue with. He’d up and died before I’d said my piece.

A legend in his field of work.

The guy whose legacy nipped at my heels and kept me up at night.

Dear old Dad.

18

Oakley

The curtain almost whacked me in the face when my phone rang. You’d think a cop would be better at spying. As it was, I hadn’t even seen movement at Wyatt’s house since he and his sister had come home late last night. I didn’t know why I cared, or why I bothered to spy on him.

Fine. I had a sneaking suspicion why, but I refused to address that currently.

“Hey, Esme,” I said into my phone, walking away from the window and into my bedroom to get dressed. I had a day off and I intended to use it to run some errands.

Not spy on Wyatt.

“So…” she drawled, and it was like nails on a chalkboard. “Any more sexy times with you-know-who?”

I sighed, wishing my face didn’t have a blushing problem, and I had kept things with Wyatt a secret from my busybody sisters.

“No. In fact, we’re in a bit of a fight at the moment.”

“Oh. Well, that sucks. Is he worth fighting for?”

I flopped back on my bed, thinking about that question seriously. Of course, Esme would get right down to the heart of things so quickly. “I think so, but I don’t know. He seems to have a lot of baggage and secrets. Not sure I can live with that.”

“Like, an ex who stalks him for that big cock, or what?”

That got me to smile. “No. Like a sister who showed up yesterday. Didn’t know he had a sibling. And not just any sibling. The girl was a straight-up fashionista city girl with deep pockets. Made me realize I know nothing about where Wyatt came from, his family, his childhood. I mean, I was sitting in the sheriff’s office, ready to transfer so I could date the man, and I don’t even know him!”

“Oh, girl. You got it bad for Wyatt, don’t you?” Esme sounded shocked. “Let’s call Amelia. She’s married and therefore an expert on love.”

That had me sitting up. “I didn’t say anything about love.”

Esme made a tsking noise in my ear. “You were about to ask to transfer to a different department and you don’t think this is about love? Come now, sister of mine. You aren’t that dumb.”

Well, ouch. That stung.

“Maybe we should call Amelia…” I muttered.

“Look. Get dressed and wait for me to text you with details.”

Esme hung up without waiting for me to agree. That was the thing with Esme. You had to pick your fights. She was a steamroller about every damn thing, so sometimes it just wasn’t worth fighting her.

I wish I could say I was a better woman, but underneath the badge, I was as catty as the next. Leaving my house to meet up with my sisters an hour later, I’d showered, blow-dried my hair, put on makeup, and switched outfits at least ten times. All of this was foreign to me, but what I did know was that I’d walk out of my house looking like a million bucks just in case Wyatt should look out his windows and see me. I wanted him to know our little fight yesterday was his fault and look what a gem he was missing. The saunter out the door to my bike would have worked better had I not had to strap on a helmet and take off on a motorcycle the size of a tricycle, but I had to start somewhere with my flirtation skills.

I parked down Main Street, walking a few blocks before I found the shop Esme had texted me about. Apparently, Polly, Lucy Sutter’s mom, had just opened a tea shop that served little snacks and every tea you could imagine. I about swallowed my tongue when I read the painted sign out front for all to see with the official logo being a delicately petaled flower in various shades of pink.

The T-Spot.

Jesus, that woman was a hoot. Polly was a man hater, for good reason. She’d had two kids, both with fathers who’d left the second the pregnancy test turned positive. I’d hate men too. Only made sense the female sex organ would inspire her shop and company logo.

I waved to Polly behind the counter helping a customer, while grabbing a table and making sure we had five chairs. Esme came in next, a bustle of activity in her business suit and leather messenger bag. I didn’t even quite know what Esme did for a living, but I was fairly certain it was business coaching, whatever that was. Vee came in right behind her, yelling across the whole store.

“That is the prettiest vajayjay I’ve ever seen, Polly!” She gave the woman two thumbs up and a broad smile. Vee saw us and came over to the table, sitting down despite her trendy puffy vest not cooperating. “Did you see the logo? I mean, is that clever or what?”

Esme smiled. “Polly knows her audience, that’s for sure. What better way to say ‘No men allowed’ than to put a giant vagina on the