by Marika Ray
Wyatt was exactly where I’d left him. He ran a hand over his beard scruff. “I’m sure it’s fine, you know.”
I shrugged and put the supplies on the counter. “I’ll feel better when it’s been disinfected.”
I balled the tissues up below his cut and dumped a stream of peroxide on the wound. Wyatt hissed, but didn’t flinch away. I waited until the bubbling went away and then dabbed at the cut again, just now remembering why I was over here.
“I’m concerned, Wyatt.”
“I told you it’s a minor cut.”
“No.” I cut him off. “Not about this. About the fact that you won’t tell me who you are or where you come from. I can’t be partners with someone who keeps secrets. I play by the rules. Being a good cop, keeping my nose clean, is everything to me. Law enforcement is in my blood and I won’t have you fucking that up for me because you won’t share a few details.”
Wyatt stilled my hand as I put a bandage over the cut. “It’s not important where I come from. What’s important is who I am now.”
I shook my head and snatched my hand back. “No. You may think that, but what if another situation comes up with someone from your past and you freak out about it or look the other way to protect them or leave our asses exposed while you play catch-up? I can’t have that happening.”
“Would it help you to know that Sheriff Locke knows my history and trusts that I’ve got your six? If he didn’t trust me, he would have made me a house mouse, stuck me on a desk until I aged out. Am I right?” Wyatt leaned forward, our noses almost touching, his gaze burning into mine. Daring me to disagree with him.
And fucking hell if he wasn’t right. I trusted Sheriff Locke’s judgement implicitly, and Wyatt knew that. I backed up a step.
“Fine. But let it be known that I still think you need to be honest with me for us to work well together.” I met his gaze again and implored him, showing vulnerability for just a moment. “Don’t fuck this up for me, Wyatt.”
He stood, crowding me, looking down with a gaze that held something I couldn’t quite put my finger on. “That’s the first thing that attracted me to you. As your partner,” he clarified. “Your honesty and integrity.”
My heart fluttered a mile a minute, a fact I was sure he could hear in the quiet of his house. If a teasing Wyatt was hard to deal with, intense shirtless Wyatt was even harder to resist.
“Sure it wasn’t the getting off to porn?” I sputtered out as a joke. A really stupid one, as it turned out. Bringing up that moment when Wyatt saw me completely naked in my most vulnerable state was not something to bring up when we were alone again. Everyone in my family knew my lack of ability to tell jokes. This was a prime example.
Wyatt came impossibly closer and my head tipped back further. His eyes looked positively on fire as his gaze flickered down to my mouth. A single finger came up to flick the tiny strap of my top. That finger stayed on my skin, trailing along the hemline of my shirt, across my chest and up my throat, leaving a line of goose bumps in its wake. My thighs clenched together, trying to stave off the zings of pleasure that had me thinking of doing something very, very stupid.
His heat radiated off from his bare chest and my hands couldn’t stay away. I laid my palms flat across his abs, just below the bandage, absorbing his warmth and yet wanting more. His nostrils flared at my touch and one or both of us must have moved since suddenly his lips were on mine, pressing insistently. I didn’t think, just reacted to the want coursing through every previously slumbering cell in my body.
His tongue flicked against my bottom lip and I opened, needing him to consume me and put out this inferno that had burned away all my previous caution. His hands slid around my waist and pressed me against the full length of his body. Nothing existed outside of his scent surrounding me, the hard muscles beneath my fingertips, and his lips tasting me like he was a starving man. I groaned into his mouth and shifted my hips, trying desperately to assuage whatever I was seeking. He moved too, the proof of his desire digging into my stomach.
“Still think the bunny vibrator is better than the real thing?” he whispered against my neck as he plucked at my skin.
The squawk of the radio had me jumping back from him, my hand covering my mouth as some sort of flimsy barrier against further kisses. My eyes went wide as I realized what we had just done. What he’d just said. Wyatt’s hair lay rumpled from my own hands, his chest heaving like he’d gotten in a round or two with another pissed-off suspect. His lips were wet and his eyes still held the heat I had a feeling I’d crave for all eternity now that I’d had a taste.
“Another cat escape in Auburn Hill. All units available asked to help round them up,” came the voice of the dispatcher.
I looked over to see his radio tossed on the little kitchen table. It lay next to his utility belt. The one that looked identical to mine. Clearing my throat, I stepped closer to the front door. Twice I’d found myself in a compromising position with my partner. The first had been an accident on both our parts. This time? I’d been an active participant.
I had to get out of there. Now.
I backed up all the way until I bumped into the door, keeping my eye on him with a hand held out between us, as if to keep him back. Wyatt hadn’t moved a muscle though, except for the one by his jaw that kept clenching over and over. The doorknob was in my hand and escape was near.
“That didn’t just happen,” I croaked and then ran out the door like the flames of hell were licking at my Crocs.
It wasn’t until I got back to my house, slammed and locked the door behind me, that I allowed myself to go over what just happened. Had that whole kiss just been about him teasing me? Was it all just a big joke to him? Or did he feel the same pull I felt?
I had a feeling I wouldn’t get much sleep that night trying to answer those questions. And to figure out what to do with what he’d said as I ran out the door.
“Fuck yes, it did.”
9
Wyatt
* * *
I glanced through the window first, seeing movement and wanting to make sure I wasn’t walking into another porn session. Actually, who was I kidding? If Oakley was naked and playing the tickle game with that damn purple vibrator again, I was absolutely knocking down her door and coming right in like I owned the place.
Instead, what I saw was a—sadly—fully dressed Oakley, sitting on the floor of her living room, wrangling with a pink ribbon like it was a real live snake. I rolled in my lips to keep from laughing. The woman was…well, I didn’t quite know what she was. I’d never felt this way for a woman, ever, which was why I’d stayed away all week after we kissed. Yeah, we’d had to work together, but both of us had pulled back. She was back to being the ice queen and rarely making eye contact. I dialed back the teasing and tried to stay focused on the job.
What I felt toward Oakley scared the shit out of me.
There. I said it.
I was a grown man, scared of a five-foot-three woman who couldn’t tie a damn ribbon.
I’d spent the entire week vacillating between wanting to grab her to kiss the hell out of her, and wanting to run far, far away. I was attracted to her, maybe more than any woman in my life, but I also knew starting something with her could be the end of the first thing I’d done in my life that actually mattered. I was finally a well-respected law enforcement officer with a career I could be proud of. I couldn’t mess that up by sleeping with my partner. My superior, for fuck’s sake.
But seven whole days without having a proper conversation with her had worn on me. I couldn’t keep walking on eggshells around her. We needed to clear the air.
I knocked on her door and stepped back. When it finally swung open several minutes later, I had to shove my fist against my mouth to keep from laughing out loud. Oakley stood there in leggings, a sweatshirt, and the contents of a five-pound bag of glitter scattered from the top of her head—hair still in a bun—to her red-painted toenails.
She lifted an eyebrow and put a han
d on her hip, just daring me to say anything. I also noticed she didn’t ask me to come in.
“Lost the battle, huh?”
Oakley rolled her eyes. “What do you want? I’m busy.”
I settled right back into teasing mode. “Wow, Oakley, that’s real friendly. Is that any way to talk to your partner?”
She huffed and shifted to the other foot. “It is when I’m ass deep in a craft project from hell.”
I stepped forward, crowding her so she’d step back and let me in. Worked like a charm. I shut her front door and spread my arms wide.
“I’m at your service. I happen to be excellent with a glue gun.”
She shook her head, but walked to the living room, giving me a view of her ass in yoga pants. And holy shit. The uniform had been hiding a juicy backside that should always be on display. The woman was short, but she made up for it with all the right curves. Maybe coming over to talk had been a bad idea after all. She sat on the floor and I tried to follow suit, but it took a lot of shifting to find a comfortable spot. Jeans, crisscross applesauce, and erections were not a good combo.
“What are we making here?” I distracted myself by taking inventory of all her supplies. A long mail tube, scissors, ribbon, a giant bag of glitter, a glue gun, and confetti. Everything was in a shade of pink that reminded me of the medicine my nanny used to give me when I was a kid every time I complained of a stomachache.
Oakley scrubbed two hands over her face and a puff of glitter fell off and into the carpet where it would remain for decades. “I have to make some sort of gender reveal glitter bomb.” Her lips flattened.
“You know those can be dangerous, right?”
She tipped her head to the side and deadpanned, “We shoot guns every day.”
I couldn’t help a smile. This was turning out to be fun. “True. But the implications of a glitter bomb are vast. That shit goes everywhere, and it never comes clean. Take yourself, for example.” I waved a hand down her person. “You’ll still sport glitter on Monday when you show up for work.”
Oakley’s jaw dropped. “No.”
I nodded sagely. “Sadly, yes. I can’t wait to hear the speculation as to how you got all glittered up.”
Oakley blew out a huge breath and put her hands to her head. “Listen. Let’s just get this done and then I’ll shower all weekend. It’ll be fine.”
I raised my eyebrows, knowing all the pep talks in the world wouldn’t make it come true, but really liking the idea of Oakley all naked in the shower. I’d been to plenty of drunken raves before with glitter shot in the air, and that shit doesn’t come off for days.
Oakley pulled up directions on her phone, which we followed. I got to man the glue gun, which made me very happy. We managed to get all the glitter, confetti, chalk, and the spring-loaded cap into the tube. Then we wrapped the ribbon around the outside, a mix of both blue and pink to keep the guests guessing. We had leftover sequins, which I brilliantly suggested we add to the outside of the tube to make our glitter bomb extra.
“Who’s this for again?” I asked as we waited for the glue to dry on the sequins.
Oakley got a smile on her face I’d never seen before. I listened closely, knowing whoever she was going to talk about was very important to her.
“My little sister, Amelia. She and her husband are expecting a baby, and I’m the one who got the call from the ob-gyn with the gender results. Amelia’s already come over with my favorite chocolates to bribe me into telling her.” She kept smiling but rolled her eyes. “I don’t know what the big deal is with these gender reveal parties. I mean, just find out the old-fashioned way if you want suspense. Why’s it gotta be a production?”
I chuckled, hoping none of my old friends started having babies and expected me to attend these kinds of parties. Babies were pooping, crying machines who made their parents so sleep deprived they couldn’t function. So why all the parties beforehand? Baby showers should be more of a somber social gathering. A funeral of sorts for losing their lives as they once knew them. Once the baby came, they could kiss goodbye all their hobbies, downtime, and sleep. Being festive seemed a little naïve, if you asked me.
“I’m with you on that. If I ever had a child, I don’t think I’d even have a baby shower. Instead of all the crap presents and food and decor, my friends could just buy me diapers, or vouchers for babysitting.”
Oakley tilted her head and turned that soft smile on me. “That’s exactly what I think too. Why host these ridiculous parties when what you’ll need is something far more practical?”
We shared a smile and, for once, the silence between us wasn’t uncomfortable or charged with something we both didn’t want to address. I put the glue gun down and looked at the checklist on her piece of paper. Seemed we had more to make than just a glitter bomb. She already had a long list of donations for a raffle prize, so that was one less thing we had to do.
“I have a small family. You?” I wrote my name down on the donations list for a bottle of Dom Perignon. Chicks liked that shit.
Oakley leaned back on her hands and stretched a leg out. “I have four sisters, all younger.”
I blinked. “There’s five of you? And you’re the oldest?”
She grinned even wider. “Yep. My parents kept trying for a boy. Eventually Dad said enough was enough and got my mom a male puppy for Christmas.” She laughed, and I memorized the sound of it. She didn’t do it often. “We’ve put more than a few gray hairs on their heads, that’s for sure. Amelia especially.”
“What do your parents do for a living?” I remembered Oakley saying law enforcement was in her blood and I intended to find out what she meant by that.
“We have to add sequins to the clipboards.” She grabbed a stack of clipboards and handed one to me since I still had the glue gun. “My mom is a stay-at-home mom who’s doing a bunch of charity stuff around town now that us girls are all out of the house. Dad is the chief of police in Auburn Hill.”
Ah. Now it all made sense. “White handlebar mustache?”
She grinned. “Yep, that’s him.”
“So that’s why you take the job as serious as you do.”
She nodded and dumped a bunch of pink and blue sequins on another clipboard and handed it to me to glue. “Yeah. I looked up to him so much growing up. The way he wore the badge with such honor. He’d do anything for the citizens of Auburn Hill, including lay down his life. It seemed like the noblest profession. How could I become anything else, you know?”
I narrowly missed squirting hot glue on my thumb. I was watching the dreamy expression on Oakley’s face more than I was watching my crafting job.
“How come you’re not police?”
Oakley sighed and put another clipboard together for me. “That was my one form of rebellion. I wanted one small thing just for me. As much as I love my dad, I didn’t want our relationship to be why I got the job or the promotion. I wanted to do it on my own. Move up based on my own merit, not because my last name is Waldo. My job means everything, and now I know any and all success I have is because of me.”
A growing sense of pride filled my chest. It wasn’t every day you ran across people noble enough to turn down daddy’s influence to make their own way in the world. I would know because I did it too. And everyone had said I was crazy for it.
I nodded, careful to keep my gaze on the hot glue. As painful as it would be to burn myself, I was more worried about looking at her right now and finding myself falling head over heels in love with her. The thing was, I cared about Oakley. I cared about her as my partner and as a woman. If I wasn’t careful, I could find myself falling for her.
Which would be the opposite of what she wanted.
She wanted to advance in the department and make her dad proud. Dating her partner, when department fraternizing was strictly prohibited, would be a blemish on her otherwise sterling reputation. I’d be taking away the one thing she cared about most.
And I liked her too much to do that to her.
I put the glue gun down and stretched my hand out. Her eyebrows went together and a small smile stretched across her lips.
“Friends?” I asked, actually meaning it.
The smile grew as she took my hand with a shake forceful enough to crack bones as only Oakley would do.
“Friends.”
10
Oakley
* * *
“Pull that side up, Oak,” Esme said with a hefty side of frustration.
I pulled it up and taped it, hustling to get off the chair before she found something else wrong with where I’d hung the streamers. She should have just hung them herself, which I’d suggested, but she’d pointed to her tight pencil skirt. Not my fault she didn’t dress properly for a baby shower. Who the hell wears a tight black skirt and stilettos to a freaking baby shower? Then again, when was the last time I’d seen Esme in something that could be described as comfortable or casual?
“We need confetti on this table, you guys,” Izzy said smoothly, the quickness of her voice the only indication she was stressed. She rushed back into our parents’ kitchen to grab whatever appetizer she intended to add to the overflowing table of food. The girl could cook, and boy did she take her responsibilities seriously. Everybody would leave the shower with a food baby as big as Amelia’s baby bump.
Esme dusted more glitter and confetti on the food table wherever there was even a millimeter of tablecloth showing. Dad was going to have a fit with the glitter floating around here. The thought of glitter had me eyeing the table in the living room with the games. The gender reveal cannon was looking better than anything I could have done on my own. As much as I hated to admit it, Wyatt had helped me make it look amazing.