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

I wiggled my shoulders, feeling like my shirt suddenly became scratchy and uncomfortable. “I don’t know. That’s the problem. I think it could be that first one, but maybe I’m just blinded by the second one?”

Vee nodded sagely, taking another swig of tea. “Blinded by the dick.”

Izzy opened her eyes and snorted, still leaning on my shoulder despite the bumpy ride that was turning out to be. “Jeez, Vee. Are you like the dick whisperer or something? All wise in your twenty-one years of experience?”

Amelia leaned over the table, drawing attention back to her. “Hey, I get your point, Izzy, but we don’t shame here. If Vee has more dick experience than any of us already, that doesn’t make it wrong.”

“Dick-sperience,” Esme drawled, giggling into her cup of tea. “We should trademark it.”

I couldn’t help but giggle, which made Izzy snort-laugh. Even Vee sported a smile at that. Amelia sighed, for the first time having to be the sane one of the bunch. Usually she was the drunk skunk we had to manage with kid gloves and a healthy dose of patience. Turnaround’s fair playback, bitch.

Or something like that. In truth, my brain was a little fuzzy at the moment.

“Okay, so this is what you have to do. Stay away from the dick-straction—get it?—and analyze if you really do have feelings for him. If you do, then it’s worth giving him some time to get with the program. You’re a gem of a woman, Oak. If he can’t see that and be willing to address all the skeletons in his closet, then he’s not worthy of you.”

My eyes filled with tears. “Thank you, ’Lia.”

Esme fumbled with her bag, spilling most of the contents before getting her notebook and pen out on the table. “I gotta write these down. You ladies are coming up with words like little genius wordy wordsmiths.” She scribbled something on the page, but I couldn’t make it out because of the tears in my eyes.

Izzy lifted her head finally, swaying a bit in her seat with the motion. “I bet it’s hard to be a tough cop by day and yet keep your lady heart soft for a man at night. I think you’re doing great, sis.”

“More gold…” Esme muttered, scrambling to write down Izzy’s words.

“I know what you mean.” The voice came from just over my left shoulder. I turned, seeing Penelope Fines standing there in her orthopedic shoes, socks pulled up to her knees, hands on her hips. “Female officers of the law have to be stoic. It can take a toll on you after a while. I feel your pain.”

I grinned, thinking Penelope was adorable in her little meter maid uniform. She flicked the plastic badge that sat on her chest. Amelia was either holding back a laugh or going into labor behind me.

Yedda pushed her way next to Penelope, the cat hair stuck to her sweater in clumps. “You make sure that man treats you like a princess, you hear me? I told my granddaughter, Hazel, if he can’t get you off, you get off him. Know what I mean?”

Poppy popped her head over Penelope’s shoulder. “What guy are we talking about?”

I shook my head. “Nobody, Poppy. Nothing to see here. Move along.” I didn’t want to end up in the gossip grapevine by nightfall.

She narrowed her eyes at me, a sly little grin on her face. I knew that she knew what man I was thinking of. She’d delivered similar brown paper packages to both of our doors recently. I’d play it cool, though. The last thing I needed was Poppy Strauss butting her nose into my business. That’s what I had sisters for.

Vee stood suddenly, holding her tea in the air. “To Hell women. May we sip spiked tea under a giant vagina and rule our men with the same honey trap.”

“Hear, hear!” Polly cheered. Yedda cackled and Penelope grimaced. Poppy smacked me on the back repeatedly.

My sisters all giggled but toasted Vee just the same before downing the rest of their tea. I smiled, feeling highly entertained by my family and the rest of this crazy town, but still weighed down by the decision I needed to make.

Did I take a risk on Wyatt and potentially lose my job?

Or play it safe and ride solo forever?

19

Wyatt

Emmeline had stayed the night. After the serious talk about visiting Mom, she’d sauntered off to shop on Main Street. We danced around the subject of me being a shit brother. We eventually got hungry and went to dinner, having so much fun together, the sun had set by the time we were about to say goodbye. I couldn’t have her driving home in the dark, so I asked her to stay. Truth was, I was having more fun with her than I remembered. I’d shoved my family away due to grief two years ago, and it had become a habit.

Emmeline was right. I needed to visit more often.

Once Em left, I watched Oakley’s house all afternoon, wondering where she was and what she was doing. And yeah, who she was doing it with. I had no right to know about her personal life considering I wasn’t about to share mine, but I missed her. Missed her on a level that scared me. We’d only had the one night, but it was enough to lodge her deep in my system.

As the day wore on and Oakley didn’t return home, a gnawing sense of unease gathered in my stomach. I took my frustration out on a lump of pasta dough, rolling it out by hand and letting it dry before cutting into flat noodles. Em had convinced me I’d been wrong not to visit my family more often, and I was starting to wonder if I’d made the wrong decision about Oakley.

Being able to make snap decisions was one thing I prided myself on. In fact, that characteristic was what led me to