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

the same time. “You know, she loves that miniature motorcycle of hers.”

The side of my mouth hitched up. I really liked that guy. I heard Em climb out of the truck and approach behind me. I really didn’t like the idea of her being out here while Amelia held a deadly weapon. I’d have to hurry this thing up.

“No. That was a rhetorical question. I know what she values most. It’s honesty. Which is quite ironic because when I moved here, I was running from my past, refusing to acknowledge it, refusing to acknowledge all of me, past and present. But Oakley had me seeing things differently, even as I kept trying to resist. I thought things in real life weren’t so black and white, but I was wrong. When it comes to love, being honest is the only right answer. I love your sister more than my career and more than the pain that comes with facing my past.”

I put my hands down at my sides. If she wanted to shoot me, so be it. “I was wrong, and I’d like a shot at making things right.”

Amelia lowered the shotgun and lifted her nose in the air, but I could have sworn I saw a twinkle dancing in her eyes. “You want a shot, huh?”

I grinned full out. “No pun intended. Believe me.” The tension in the air dissipated just like that.

Titus hitched a thumb over his shoulder. “I started a new pot of coffee if you’d like to come in and chat properly.”

Em came out from behind me and looped her arm through mine. “I like your boots!” she hollered to Amelia. “Thanks for not shooting my brother. He’s kind of important to me, even though he’s a knucklehead.”

“Hey,” I grumbled, marching forward to share my plan with Amelia and Titus. With a little more luck, they just might agree to help me.

28

Oakley

“Seriously? You have to pee again?”

Amelia insisted on driving today, like she knew if things were left up to me, I would have backed out of this little excursion by now. That and my Grom wouldn’t fit her widening belly, not that I would ever say that to her face. The last two weeks had been rough. If I wasn’t limping about my house in my sweats and boot, I was nagging Sheriff to let me back to work. Neither action had gotten me any further along the road to recovery. My heart still ached for Wyatt, and my calf still throbbed like the devil whenever I tried to walk without the boot.

Amelia had come over early today and forced me into the shower. Apparently bathing daily was a necessary thing, even when heartbroken. I’d awoken to a For Sale sign up in Wyatt’s front yard today. The sight had been a punch to the gut. He hadn’t bothered to come over, text me, call me, or even remotely fight for me the last two weeks. Half the time I didn’t want him to, but the prideful side of me thought that would have been nice. If I believed in the psycho-quackery, maybe what I needed was an explanation for proper closure.

“Hey, I waited patiently while you got dressed. The least you can do is make accommodations for my squished bladder. Blame your niece.” Amelia pulled the car off the highway and zeroed in on a gas station with bathrooms.

Funny how she could twist the truth. She hadn’t been patient at all. And I hadn’t even wanted to get dressed up. We were just shopping for nursery furniture. I could have stayed in my sweats, but Amelia had other ideas for me. She’d forced me to shower, blow-dry my hair, slap some makeup on, and put on a dress. My heart was a stormy gray cloud, but my outer appearance said girls’ shopping trip. Amelia kept repeating that stupid phrase about faking it until you made it in between looking at her watch and tapping her foot.

I glanced around the neighborhood as she hustled to the bathroom. Where the hell were we, anyway? The stores on either side of the gas station looked high end in a way stores around a gas station didn’t normally look. The Peacock B and B might turn a nice profit these days, but I didn’t think this area would have baby furniture in Amelia’s price range. When a convertible Bentley drove by, I knew we had to be in the wrong zip code.

Amelia climbed back into the car. “Whew! I feel so much better.”

“Where are we going?” I asked, suspicious now that I wasn’t busy grumbling about getting dressed up and leaving my house.

Amelia spent a great deal of time fussing with her mirrors. The ones that had been just fine for the hour and a half of driving we’d already done.

“You wouldn’t have heard of it. It’s an exclusive nursery furniture place in San Jose. Like, invite only. We’re only getting a chance because one of my guests is an investor in the place.” Amelia backed out and zoomed down the road in the opposite direction of the highway.

“Can you even afford anything there?”

“Rude, Oak. Jeez,” Amelia whined a little too loudly.

Something was up. I could just feel it. Cops don’t survive without that sixth sense, and mine was blaring like a foghorn. Amelia turned down another road, this one lined by tall trees and gated properties.

“Is this boutique at someone’s home?” I leaned so far over to get a glimpse at the mansion we were zooming by, I bumped my forehead on the window.

“Um, not sure,” Amelia murmured absentmindedly, pulling a piece of paper out of her pocket and examining it.

She hit the brakes and made a sharp left, coming to an abrupt stop next to a stone column set off to the side before a huge wrought-iron gate. She rolled down her window and pressed the button.

“Amelia Waldo here for her appointment.” Amelia shot me a smile and a wink.

I refrained