Page 16 of Ronen
“Thank you, Sheriff,” the older lady’s cane clip-clopped as she moved past me. Why the woman insisted on parking on the street in front of the library, and climbing the steps, instead of using the stairless entry in the back, I would never understand.
She gave me a mild heart attack anytime I happened to encounter her here, or if I happened to see her when I was driving by. The thought of her cane slipping, especially in winter, and what a fall down the concrete could do to her frail body gave me nightmares.
“I’ve told you to call me Mason,” I smiled, the scent of her perfume–gardenias–reminding me of my own grandma.
Her cheeks pinked with color, pleased. “Mason. Such good manners. Someone raised you right.”
Now it was my turn to blush at her praise. “I’ll tell my papa you said so. I’m pretty sure most days he has a different opinion and will be pleased to know.”
She laughed, making her way slowly to the return desk. “Most parents feel that way at onetime or another.”
She dropped her books on the counter, rapping the surface briskly with her hand. “Ronen, I’m here for my books that are on hold.”
Ronen stopped staring at his computer long enough to frown at her. “No need to pound on the counter, I’m standing right here.”
Mrs. Everett snapped her fingers sharply, and I had a vision of what the retired teacher must have been like in a classroom full of unruly children. Even my back straightened at her quick snaps.
“Hop to it, young man. I have places to be today. Can’t wait for you to wake up from your nap.”
Shoving my books into the return slot, I did the same with Mrs. Everett’s books, then waited patiently behind her while Ronen fetched her holds.
By the straightness of his spine, and his clenched jaw, I was sure he had a tart response for the older lady, but he wisely kept it to himself. Guess I wasn’t the only one raised with good manners.
My brows rose when I saw Ronen put a pile of true crime books on the counter for Mrs. Everett. Ronen scanned her card, then the books, placing them one by one in a neat stack.
“That’s a lot of ah…serial killers,” I commented, wondering if I should be amused or concerned.
I wasn’t one to yuck someone’s yum, or their reading choices. I read all kinds of things, but seriously how many books did one need to read on a killer clown, and when should you be worried?
She laughed heartily, “I like what I like. Don’t think I didn’t notice those romance books you had tucked under your arm.”
Touché.
“Fair enough.”
Ronen slid her books into a plastic bag and handed them to Mrs. Everett with…was that a smile?
Did Ronen Sinclair actually know how to smile?
Was I so sleep deprived I was hallucinating?
What was happening right now? Was that the earth I felt shifting beneath my feet, or were we having an earthquake?
Because that smile…holy fuck, it was doing all kinds of things to my insides.
That smile should not be legal. It should be classified as a deadly weapon, used on unsuspecting alphas.
Yep, it was official. I was losing it.
“Why are you staring at me like that?” Ronen demanded, losing his smile, his face morphing into the frowning one I was used to seeing.
Mrs. Everett took her bag of murder books, turning slowly from the counter with her cane.
“Your smile made him speechless, dear. It’s the Sinclair curse. Happens to most people when any one of you unleashes it on the public. See you in a few days. Sheriff,” she tilted her gray head at me and pointed her cane, and I stood up ramrod straight. “Keep on keeping us safe.”
Tipping my hat at her, I mumbled, “Ma’am,” because what else could I say?
Ronen crossed his arms over his chest, looking down his nose at me, which considering I was several inches taller than him was quite the feat.
