Page 43 of Ridin' Solo
“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 law enforcement in the first place. To think I’d been so wrong about my personal life was making me doubt myself in general, and I didn’t fucking like it.
A car door slamming had me grabbing my towel to wipe the dough and flour from my hands. I pulled apart the blinds to see Chief Waldo escorting Oakley into her house, his hand on her elbow. She tossed her hair back and laughed, the joy on her face hitting me harder than her frowns and biting remarks. Then she tripped over a sprinkler head by the walkway to her front door. Chief just rolled his eyes and hustled her into the house.
Was Oakley Waldo, Miss Perfect, drunk? The thought had my lips pulling into a smile. A few minutes later, Chief came back out and got Oakley’s Grom out of the back of his truck, wheeling it under her car porch before heading out.
Pretty sure it wasn’t fair to approach Oakley when I knew she was inebriated, but I also figured this might be my only chance to get a genuine conversation out of her. Sober, she’d just yell at me or freeze me out.
I glanced at my pasta, seeing that it needed a bit longer to dry before I could finish cutting it. Perfect. Just enough time to go over and check on my neighbor. I didn’t give it much more thought than that. The door was closed behind me and I was walking across our yards before I could talk some sense into myself.
It took at least a full minute after I knocked for Oakley to pull the front door open. She swayed on her feet, drowning in an old sweatshirt over leggings. Her high ponytail sent a bolt of lust right to my dick. I wanted to tug on that hair and see her eyes drift shut as I slid into her tight body.
“Wyatt?” Oakley’s face scrunched up, bringing me back to the present moment.
“Hey. Mind if I come in?”
Like a bastard, I didn’t give her time to say no. I just stepped inside and she tilted her head back to look me in the eye. Hers were hazy, but not so gone she wouldn’t remember this conversation tomorrow.
“No,” she said defiantly, jamming her hands on her hips.
I looked down at my feet, which currently stood at least a yard inside her house. “I’m inside already.”
“Listen, Loot—leiutent—Wyatt. I don’t want you here.”
I bit my lip to keep from smiling at her stumbling words. “I know, sweetheart, and I want to fix that.”
Her nose went in the air, and even drunk, she could morph back into Captain Waldo in a split second. “So you’re ready to tell me everything and be honest with Sheriff Locke about us?”
“That’s the thing, Oakley. Is there an us? Seems to me we should date for a bit before telling the sheriff. One of us transferring out seems a bit extreme when we don’t even know if we’re compatible. I want to tell you about my background, but that happens after dating for a while, not the first date. Plus, I can’t imagine riding out without you.”
I knew it as soon as I said it that I was feeding her a line of bullshit. I already knew we were compatible. It was why I was scared shitless to tell her about my past. Her judgement held weight, and I didn’t want it to crush me. Not when I was just making the life I’d worked so hard for.
Oakley looked down at her feet. She let go of the doorknob and swayed a bit before righting herself. I thought I heard her mutter, “What the hell was in that Boochcraft?”
She raised her head, and the sadness in her eyes made my gut clench. “It’s the right thing to do. Period. And the fact that you won’t do it is a deal breaker for me.”
I reached out a hand, wanting to touch her. She flinched back, and I froze. My arm slowly fell back down to my side.
“There’s just so much in my past I’m still trying to figure out myself. I need the time to do that.”
