Page 24 of Ridin' Solo
Lucy smacked him in the arm before blowing her nose and taking a picture of us in a messy huddle, flash and all.
“Okay, now crowd around the crib and I’ll get your picture with it,” Lucy directed us.
We all complied, laughing now at all the red-rimmed eyes and ruined mascara. Lucy took pictures, then dragged Dad into them, then just Amelia and Titus. All the while, I flicked glances at Wyatt, wondering if he’d be bored by all of this. Instead of looking for the door, he was eerily silent, watching our every move with a look on his face that made me want to cry for different reasons. Wyatt looked more alone than a woman nursing a scotch at the bar by herself.
“Now you and Amelia,” I suggested, taking the phone from Lucy and motioning for her, Finnie, and Lenora to get together with Amelia. “Say Hell Raisers!”
They shouted it, as I knew they would, right as I clicked the shutter.
“Time for cake!” shouted Esme, and we all ran to the kitchen, elbowing each other out of the way like we were kids again.
Fuck, I loved my sisters.
11
Wyatt
“You say you like it black, but I wonder if you’ve tried a hint of cream and a dash of sugar. It’s like dessert in liquid form.”
I handed the steaming Styrofoam cup to Oakley as she marched out the door of the station. She glanced over at it, lifting her nose in the air at the fussiness of it, but grabbed the cup out of my hands. She didn’t even break stride when she took a sip. I slid into the passenger side of the cruiser and wouldn’t have known if she liked the coffee I brought her if I hadn’t been studying her so intently these past few weeks. When she sipped the straight black coffee I’d brought her after asking about her preferred order, she’d take a tiny sip and set it down. She’d continue like that until she’d consumed half the cup. The rest would grow cold and she’d throw it out at our lunch break. With today’s liquid dessert coffee, she didn’t stop until she’d drained the whole cup.
Mental note: Oakley liked her coffee sweet, despite what she said. I wondered what else she liked despite what she said. Namely, the purple vibrator came to mind. She’d said she liked to ride solo, and yet I thought she might protest a bit too much to be truthful. These were things I’d have to ponder late at night when I had the luxury of letting my brain go there.
The rest of our shift went smoothly, she and I working together like a well-oiled machine. Ever since our friendship truce the weekend of the baby shower, I’d dialed back the teasing, and she’d thawed a bit of the icy exterior. We’d become true work partners. Everything at work was going exactly as I’d hoped when I’d set out on this path a few years back.
“Good night, Lieutenant,” Oakley called out, heading for her Grom.
I got in my truck and started it up, running a hand over my unshaved jaw while I waited for her to put her helmet on and head home. This had become my habit. I’d bring her little things like coffee and croissants to see that flash of a smile on her face. Then I’d strictly be her partner all day long and follow her home at night. If I couldn’t flirt with her, then I’d be the best damn friend she’d ever had.
She bent down low over the handlebars and hit the curves a bit too fast, if you asked me. I stayed far enough behind not to piss her off, but close enough to make sure no one missed her tiny bike on the road. By the time I pulled into my driveway, she was off the bike and heading into her house. She paused at the door and raised a hand to wave goodbye without looking back.
Well, shit. Guess she knew I was following her home every day. I shrugged and got out of the truck, heading into my dark house. Too bad. If she was going to ride that ridiculously unsafe motorcycle, somebody had to watch out for her safety.
Something strange and debilitating had hit me at the baby shower, turning me into a man I didn’t recognize. I’d watched her family interact like I was observing some unknown species at the zoo. They talked, they teased, they laughed, they cried, and they loved fiercely. The love was practically palpable. And so was the ache that had hit my chest and hadn’t let up since.
The way they interacted was so foreign to me I finally realized several days later that I was mourning a life I never had. A family dynamic I never experienced. My father had been so busy building his empire, he’d been as elusive as Santa Claus. Mom wasn’t much better with her charity functions and women’s luncheons. My sister and I got along fine, but she’d stayed a part of the social life I’d had before, existing on a superficial level that just wasn’t enough for me anymore. When Dad died suddenly two years back, we’d all just fallen apart in our grief, no closer than we’d been when he was alive. I had a feeling that Oakley’s family would have banded together over their shared pain.
Even worse than the pang of sadness was the fierce knowledge that I ached right down to my bones for what Oakley had. I was jealous, plain and simple. I wanted that for myself. I wanted to build a family like that, but had no idea where to start.
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.
