Ridin' Solo (Sisters From Hell Book 1) Read online

  Actually, that was a lie. I knew where to start. It started with Oakley.

  But she was my partner. At work. Not in my personal life, no matter how much I wanted that.

  I finished eating the leftover lasagna I’d made over the weekend and headed to the living room to watch some television before I went to bed and dreamt of Oakley in that freaking dress she’d had on at the baby shower. Headlights flashed through my front window, and I jumped up to look through the blinds. I had a feeling I knew what was about to happen. Feeling like a kid on Christmas morning, I peeked outside to see Poppy trudging up the walkway, whistling a jaunty tune. Of course, she’d hand deliver this package, the little shit stirrer.

  Oakley answered the door in the same outfit she’d worn when she came over and kissed me. Minus the hideous Crocs. Oddly, I missed those weird things. That is, until my gaze hit the clear outline of her nipples in the flimsy tank top and I forgot to breathe. Damn. Maybe I should gift her a pair of pajamas. Thick, flannel, long-sleeved pajamas that covered every inch of that gorgeous body.

  Poppy handed over the plain brown package and Oakley rolled her eyes, recognizing where it was from. Poppy winked and two-stepped back down the walkway, full of energy with a new bit of gossip to spread. Oakley stepped back inside, but before she closed her door, she glanced over at my house. I jumped away from the window, my heart in my throat, pretty sure she hadn’t seen me. When I dared peek back outside, Oakley had shut her door and Poppy was driving away.

  You see, I’d started buying things for Oakley. Little gifts when I was thinking about her. Which was pretty much all the time, so she got a lot of gifts. The other night I’d had a few too many beers with my dinner and tiptoed over the line of friendship we’d established. I’d found myself on the Hardware Store website and found a little something for her I thought she’d like. It wasn’t actually little, truth be told. The more-than-life-size dildo was extra large for her pleasure. Figured it was the closest thing to being in Oakley’s bed.

  The note I’d asked them to attach to her latest gift?

  Even at this ungodly size, the real thing is still better.

  Of course, she’d know it was from me. That was the whole point. I wanted her to use it and think of me. I wanted her as tortured as I was every time I laid my head down at night and couldn’t get her out of my brain.

  Speaking of, I had my own business to take care of after seeing Oakley in her teeny tiny pajamas. I was sporting steel under these shorts and now I had a new visual to get off to. I turned the television off and sauntered into my bedroom, which had a view of Oakley’s bedroom window.

  As was usual, her light was on, curtains closed. I could see her dark silhouette as she moved about the room. I imagined her naked in there, admiring her new dildo and thanking me profusely for it. She’d toss it over her shoulder and drop to her knees, looking up at me to say she finally wanted the real thing. My hand went to my covered cock, giving it a hard tug as I got into the daydream.

  Oakley’s curtain fluttered and then whipped open in the blink of an eye. My hand froze, caught in the act. Oakley stood there in her pajamas with her arms above her head, her nipples hard enough to cut glass, and a wide expanse of bare stomach keeping me mesmerized.

  She looked right at me, her left eyebrow rising.

  Shit. My hand was on my dick. It was pretty obvious what I’d been doing before she’d opened her curtains. Whatever. Wyatt Smith didn’t back down in the face of danger; I doubled down. I finally moved my hand, but only to give my cock a long stroke from base to tip. She licked her lips but didn’t look away.

  Reaching behind her, Oakley produced the dildo, dragging it down her chest and between her perfect breasts. I watched, utterly transfixed. The dildo stopped just above her ridiculous excuse for shorts. She bit her lip and my dick jumped. The tip of the dildo breached the waistband—and she whipped the curtains closed again, blocking her from my view.

  “No!” I yelled out loud. “What a damn tease!”

  I flopped back on my bed when it became clear she wasn’t coming out again. The ceiling fan twirled lazily above me, undisturbed by my outburst. It wasn’t lost on me she’d merely been giving back what she got. I’d been teasing her since the day we’d met. And fuck if she didn’t raise the score just now.

  And that excited me more than seeing her beautiful body. I pushed my shorts down and took my problem in hand, picturing Oakley framed in that doorway, only my hands and dick replaced the damn dildo. It wasn’t long before I was groaning her name, knowing even then I wouldn’t be able to get her out of my head.

  I had to face the facts.

  I was head over ass in love with Oakley Waldo.

  The next morning, I’d had enough. Yeah, I loved my job and didn’t want to jeopardize it, but I also couldn’t see myself pretending about my feelings for Oakley any longer. I had to tease her like a second-grade schoolboy or I’d explode.

  The sun was barely peeking through the pine trees when I walked outside and got Oakley’s newspaper. The air held a chill in the mornings, but I didn’t bother putting on a shirt. I knew how much Oakley liked my muscles. I’d barely hit her doorstep when her door cracked open. Oakley opened her mouth on a yawn, her eyes screwed shut. Even half asleep, her hair remained constrained in a messy ponytail. What did a guy have to do to see that hair down around her shoulders again? I’d had to keep my hands in my pockets the entire time I’d been at that damn baby shower just to keep from reaching out and feeling the loose strands.

  Oakley bumped right into my chest, pinging off and hitting the doorframe.

  “Wyatt!” Her eyes shot open, and she lifted her cup of coffee in the air to keep it from spilling on her. “Wh—what?”

  “Good morning, sunshine.” I made sure to flex the pecs and the abs. Give her as good a show as she’d given me last night. I tossed the paper at her and she fumbled to catch it one-handed. “Figured you’d be worn out from using my gift last night.”

  Then I spun on my heel and sauntered back to my place. I could practically feel her gaze on my ass while she sputtered. The only response I got was a growl and the sound of the door slamming behind me.

  She was in fine ice-queen form when we both got to work, her little nose in the air and her gaze never quite meeting mine. I smirked, deriving great pleasure from keeping her on her toes. God knew her little peep show in the window last night had left a lasting impression. One I’d be reliving for years to come. She deserved all the teasing I had planned for today and more.

  “Waldo, Smith,” Sheriff Locke barked from inside his office.

  We both changed course and headed in to see him. My gut churned for a second before I realized I couldn’t be in trouble for fraternizing with a coworker when it had only happened in my dreams.

  “I’ve got a big case I need you two helping me with.”

  “Anything, Sheriff,” Oakley responded before I could.

  He kept going, the gravity in his voice making my ears perk up. “The Emerald Triangle has essentially shifted south with legalization of marijuana in the state. Only trouble is, some growers are using weed as a front to distribute illegal drugs. One county over, they’ve had some busts with kids looking to score some weed and end up walking away with the hard stuff. I need you to keep your eye out for anyone growing or storing marijuana who doesn’t have a grower’s license, and even those who do have a license. Anything suspicious, I want to know about it.” He raised a bushy eyebrow. “I won’t tolerate drugs being sold to kids in my county.”

  “Yes, sir,” Oakley answered, looking more serious than I’d ever seen her, which was saying a lot.

  I nodded as well, following her out the door and to our cruiser. I turned over that new information in my head. Maybe that encounter with Ben a few weeks ago had been more than a simple weed deal. Wouldn’t surprise me if he was looking to score something a little more designer. Hell, if Oakley knew what kind of shit I’d been into in my past life, she’d push me out of the cruiser and
never talk to me again. I didn’t condone selling drugs to kids either, but I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t tried every drug out there at least once in my partying days.

  But that was in the past. Lieutenant Wyatt Smith was all about keeping his nose clean, and if that meant I had to arrest people from my former life, so be it. Just as long as Oakley never found out about my past.

  12

  Wyatt

  * * *

  “No pressure, but we’re already behind. We could really use some points right now, Oakley.” I nudged her with my elbow as she stared out at the baseball field with a death grip on the bat. It was a good thing we weren’t alone. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to keep my hands off her otherwise. Short, cut-off jean shorts showing off her curvy legs and a long-sleeve baseball shirt were killing me.

  “You’re up, Lee!” Sheriff bellowed from the dugout.

  Oakley lurched forward and made her way to the batter’s box on wooden legs. She’d only made it to one practice, and she’d been awful, but I never would have taken her for the stage fright type of person. I couldn’t help but chuckle at her lackluster practice swing. She basically telegraphed to the whole opposing team that she was the weak link. Shit, I’d only meant to tease her about scoring points, not demoralize her.

  “You got this, Waldo!” I shouted before the pitcher wound up his arm.

  The ball flew toward her on half speed. The pitcher on the San Jose County’s sheriff’s department must have felt sorry for her. Oakley swung and her bat miraculously connected with the ball. The ball dribbled to the right of the pitcher. Oakley dropped the bat and turned to run to first base. Unfortunately, she tripped on the bat and had to catch herself with both hands in the dirt. The crowd gasped in unison. Oakley sprang back up and ran like the devil was on her heels, actually making it safe to first base before the pitcher threw the ball over.

  “What the hell?” I stared at the pitcher, suddenly suspicious. Pretty sure his name was Nathan, a thirty-something asshat with an obnoxious grin on his face when he stared at Oakley. Which was often. “Oh, hell no.”

  Suddenly the friendly game turned not so friendly to me. How dare he look at my partner like that? If he was here to flirt with the opposing team, I’d show him real quick we weren’t on board with that. I stepped into the batter’s box, narrowed my eyes, and crouched low. The first pitch out, I knew it would be a good one. I swung and hit a line drive to the left field.

  “Run, Oakley!” I yelled, seeing her foot still on the first base bag and watching my ball bounce in the outfield. I’d almost made it to first by the time she took off for second base.

  She somehow made it there safe yet again. She did a little jig on top of the base which made my lips twitch. She also caught the eye of Nathan-the-pitcher-with-a-death-wish. I ran a hand over my face and adjusted my ball cap. Stay focused on the game, Wyatt. You can’t murder the pitcher.

  “Get ready to run again, Oakley!” I shouted over to her.

  She quit dancing and gave me a dirty look. “Quit telling me what to do, Wyatt.”

  Nathan snorted. One look from me and he shut his fucking mouth real quick and got busy serving up the next pitch. Up at bat was a new deputy of ours, looking far too young to be law enforcement. Were we giving badges to teenagers now? Dude could hit though, swinging on the first pitch again and sending it high into the outfield.

  “Run!” I shouted as I ran to second.

  Oakley was faster off the base this time, but she still was pretty fucking slow. The ball looked like it could be a home run, and Sheriff Locke was jumping along the sideline waving us all the way in. By the time I hit second, I could see that if she didn’t kick it up a notch, we wouldn’t all make it home in time if the young deputy hadn’t hit it out of the park.

  I was so close to Oakley on our way to third base, I gave her back a shove. To which she yelled over her shoulder in that husky voice that was now out of breath, “Fall in line, Lieutenant!”

  “I’ll fall in line when you run faster, Captain.”

  She growled, but picked up the pace to a full-out sprint. I sprinted after her, hearing the crowd cheering and knowing we’d have to beat the ball back to home base. The rest of our team was out of the dugout and screaming at us. I didn’t want to waste a second swiveling my head to see where the ball was at.

  Right after Oakley stepped on home base, I stepped on it too, hot on her heels. I heard the ball thwack into the catcher’s mitt, then felt the sting as he slapped it against my leg.

  “Safe!” the umpire shouted. “Both of them!”

  I didn’t get a chance to celebrate as Oakley came to a direct stop on the other side of the bag, a move I wasn’t expecting. Because who the fuck does that? My chest hit her back at full speed and we both went down in a tangle of limbs. I tried to grab her and twist, my intent being to take the brunt of the fall, but we only made half the turn, both of our sides hitting the dirt hard.

  My brain didn’t register the fall. I only cared about one thing. I scrambled upright to hold Oakley’s face in my hands, leaning over her and not feeling a damn thing except panic.

  “You okay?” I asked three times while she blinked up at me. Teammates came over one by one to peer down at us. The asshat pitcher came over too, clearly not caring for the longevity of his pitching career if he laid a single finger on Oakley.

  Her hand came up from her side in slow motion and hovered in the air. Oh shit, she must have hit her head hard. She wasn’t talking, just lying there with her arm in the air. Then her palm landed on my forehead and she gave me a hefty shove, my hands sliding off her face as I fell back on my ass.

  “Get off me, Smith,” she said on a wheeze.

  Our team cheered and helped her up. She brushed dirt off her butt and, for the life of me, I couldn’t look away.

  “You okay there, Wyatt?” Sheriff Locke asked me, his bushy eyebrows drawn together.

  I blinked and focused back on the game, not on how adorable Oakley looked with a streak of dirt across her cheek. “Yeah, I’m fine, Sheriff. Just giving myself a minute. Think the fall knocked the wind out of me.”

  “Mhm.” Another deputy named Johnson didn’t look convinced. He had a twinkle in his eye and he kept looking from me to Oakley. “Is that how you flirt with women, Smith? You tackle ’em?”

  I got to my feet and laughed good-naturedly with the team. “Don’t knock it till you try it. Works like a charm. Watch.”

  I hollered over to Oakley who was on her way back to the dugout with Betty mothering her. “Hey, Waldo! Want to get a drink later?”

  Her face scrunched up like she smelled a skunk. “Go fuck yourself, Smith,” she hollered back, making the rest of the team hoot and holler.

  “Crash and burn, dude,” Johnson said, slapping me on the back.

  I let them have their fun, thinking Oakley would never give me the time of day. Little did they know I already knew what she tasted like and how she made little moans in the back of her throat when I kissed her. But Sheriff Locke was standing right there. I couldn’t have the team insinuating she and I had a thing going on. Oakley would kill me, so I’d be the butt of their joke to protect her.

  We ended up winning the first game of the season because of the runs Oakley and I scored. The plan had always been to head to Hell’s Tavern after the game to celebrate Sheriff Locke’s birthday, the win being just another reason to party. The team was feeling festive, but I just couldn’t get into the spirit.

  “You riding that Grom to the bar?” I asked Oakley as we all headed to our cars.

  She gave me a look. “Of course, Dad. What else would I drive?”

  I unlocked the doors to my truck and paused. “Just be careful, okay?”

  Oakley smiled at me, her head tilting to the side. “You all right?”

  I nodded and winked at her to allay her fears. I wasn’t all right in the head, and certainly not in my heart, but I wouldn’t burden her with my crap. “I’m more than all right, sweetheart.”


  She didn’t take the bait. She just stood there a moment longer, looking at me like she was trying to figure me out. “All right. I’ll see you at Hell’s Tavern.” She turned and walked over to the Grom, climbing on and heading out of the lot.

  I threw my mitt and bat into the cab of my truck and tried to sort through the mess in my head. What the hell was I going to do with myself? Why did fate have to hand me such shit luck? The moment I decided to be done with women and needed to get a real job, fate gave me Oakley. Problem was, I couldn’t have her. Now or in any of the futures I envisioned for myself. If I crossed that line, it would mess with my career and hers, which I’d never do to her. If I didn’t cross that line, I felt like I might slowly go insane.

  “Let’s go, Smith!” Johnson hollered at me, climbing into his own car with a sloppy grin and his baseball cap on backward.

  I got in the truck and started it up, pulling out of the lot and following the line of cars. Got all the way to the parking lot of Hell’s Tavern before I realized I just couldn’t go in there. My heart twisted in my chest, the heartache pulling out front and center. Drinking and trying to act happy were the last things I needed.

  Oakley was already pulling her helmet off and walking into the bar with the rest of our department. I put my truck in park and shut it off. Loud rock music came from the bar every time the door opened. Sitting back in my seat, I stared out at the starry night, wondering when I’d become the guy on the outside looking in on a party. I had some decisions to make while I waited to make sure Oakley got home safe.

  This no-man’s-land I’d been in, where I flirted with Oakley but never really crossed the line, just would not work for me long term. The woman was as stubborn as they come, so I knew she’d never let us date for real. The only thing I could do was ask for a transfer to yet another county and keep her in my rearview mirror. Which meant we wouldn’t work together and probably wouldn’t even see each other. Both options sounded as fun as that Brazilian wax I’d been dared to do while vacationing in Bora Bora a few summers back. Nothing like hot wax ripping off your balls to make you reconsider all the choices you’d made up to that point. Not that Oakley was comparable to hot wax on my balls, but the feelings of regret were just as intense.