Page 44 of Ridin' Solo
“So, why don’t you tell me? I can help you sort through it, Wyatt.”
She was throwing me a lifeline. A way to let her in. A way to still be together. I should take it. I knew I should take it and run with the offer because I wouldn’t get a better one.
“I come from a wealthy family. I grew up doing things I’m ashamed of now.” I shifted on my feet, feeling uncomfortable even admitting that.
Oakley frowned. “That’s it? You shoplifted some craft beer and now you feel bad?”
I tilted my head. “No, that’s not it. There’s a whole bunch of shit that you don’t know about, Oakley. And I don’t want to go into all of it right now, okay?” I plowed my hands through my hair.
Oakley’s face went rigid and I could practically feel the icy armor going back into position. When she opened her mouth, her volume had increased substantially. “I don’t know about it because you won’t tell me. That’s your fault for not trusting me, which is pretty pathetic because we’re partners. You’re supposed to trust me with your life, and yet you don’t. So where does that leaveus, Wyatt? Don’t you see? There is no us. There can’t be because you won’t be honest.”
I threw my arms out to the side. “I’m trying to be honest, but you can’t ask a guy to flay himself open on the first date, Oakley! Give me some goddamn time, would you?”
Oakley stepped closer, jabbing me in the chest with her finger. “No! I won’t give you time because I know you won’t use it. I already gave you a week to get your shit together and absolutely nothing’s changed.”
Nobody poked me in the chest, not even Oakley. I grabbed her hand and tugged until her body fell into me. She smelled like mint and beer, but sizzled like a firecracker. Her chest heaved against mine, her eyes dilating and lips parting. She felt the same pull I did. The one that said we belonged together. That we were perfect for each other.
I reached behind her head and tugged that ponytail, pulling her head back so her lips were served on a platter, just waiting for me to take them. And I did. I claimed her lips and plunged into her mouth without permission, tasting whatever had made her tipsy this afternoon. Her hands gripped my shirt, her body pliant under my hands. She made those same little noises in the back of her throat, like she couldn’t get enough of me. My dick was a steel pipe between us, wanting back inside her before we started arguing again.
My hand slipped under her sweatshirt and found her braless. I groaned, hips thrusting into her stomach blindly when I cupped her. Oakley lurched and gasped, shoving me back and catching me off guard.
I stepped back, in shock that my mouth was no longer on hers. My hand no longer held perfection. Oakley stared at me with red lips and wide eyes.
She held her finger out in warning. “Don’t you dare! You’re a dick-straction!”
I screwed my eyes shut and ground my molars to keep from grabbing her again like I wanted to. I didn’t know what the hell a dick-straction was, but I knew one thing: Oakley and I were not done. Not now. Maybe not ever.
“Oakley.” I stepped forward, and she reared back. “Oakley, please.” It was now or never. I grabbed her hand and stroked my thumb across her knuckles. “I’m falling for you.”
The simple confession felt like the most vulnerable thing I’d ever done. How could she not see that I was trying? That I was having to confront things I’d thought long buried?
Oakley pulled her hand out of my grasp and stepped back to the open front door. She wouldn’t look me in the eye. I both felt and heard the thud of my heart hitting the ground.
“I think you should go.”
“Oakley—”
“No.” She looked at me then, the usual fire in her eyes dampened by resignation. “You don’t get to say that while keeping secrets from me and asking me to compromise my job and my integrity. You want me to give up everything dear to me, but you won’t do the same.” She gestured out the door. “Goodbye, Wyatt.”
I paused, desperately needing to salvage this somehow and knowing I couldn’t. She was right. I asked for everything while giving nothing. The very best thing I could do for her would be to walk away. I didn’t want her to compromise her morals or her job. Not yet. Not when I didn’t have my shit together.
I stepped through the doorway, turning on the plain brown welcome mat to see her eyes filled with tears.
“I’ll go, but we’re not done, Oakley. I promise you that.”
I spun on my heel and left, feeling like the world’s biggest ass for making her cry, but I also walked with a sense of purpose. I’d clean up the shit in my past and make things right. Onmytimetable. Oakley had no idea how much baggage was in my rearview mirror and how it would take some time to make things right. In the meantime, I’d still be able to work with Oakley, which gave me some relief. This wasn’t a breakup or a goodbye. This was a momentary pause. That’s it.
20
Oakley
I pulled on my shorts, finally feeling like a human after two naps, a dose of ibuprofen, and a gallon of water. I hadn’t been lying when I called in sick this morning. I’d woken to what felt like a sledgehammer keeping time on my skull. I’d have to have a chat with Prescott about the alcohol level in his weird beer. He’d been known to botch that up occasionally. Namely, the Jingle Ball this last Christmas when he’d provided refreshments that got the entire town drunk. That had been a fun night for law enforcement.
After Wyatt left last night, I’d dug out some rocky road ice cream and watched a movie as I let the tears flow. I told myself I’d take one night to feel sorry for myself, and then I’d get over it and move on. I had an exceptional career, great family, and had been just fine riding solo before Wyatt moved to town. Sure, having him as my partner at work would not be easy, but I’d keep an iron fist on my heart and keep everything super professional. Starting with the Shoots & Ladders softball game tonight.
I grabbed the glove I’d ordered, so I didn’t have to borrow a used one that had seen way too many questionable sweaty palms over the years. Mine was brown leather with pink laces. Normally I wouldn’t have ordered something with a feminine flair, but Wyatt had awakened that slumbering side of me. Before he went and broke my heart, of course. Now the glove and I were stuck.
I headed out on the Grom, refusing to look at Wyatt’s house and getting to the field in plenty of time to warm up. Tonight’s game was against the Auburn Hill police squad and firefighters. Dad was coaching, having retired from play last year when he took a line drive to his shin. He’d missed the ball because he couldn’t see over his expanding belly, a sure sign he was better suited for the coaching position.
