Page 38 of Ronen
Throwing a hand up in a friendly wave, he trotted over to me. “Hey Mr. Sinclair, you here to see Mason?”
“Hi Micah,” I greeted him, “yes, I am. I didn’t expect to find you here.”
He gave a bashful shrug. “I help out with the animals when Mason is working sometimes. His nanny goat just had her kids, twin boys, so I’m helping out this week while he’s laid up.”
“Nanny goat?” My mind could see puzzles and numbers in patterns that many could not, and I could do a word search in less than five minutes. My eyes and brain sort of just lifted the words off the page for me. But I had never had any reason to gather facts about farm animals, so my knowledge was limited.
He grinned, “A female goat that just gave birth.”
“Ah, I see.” Mason had been telling the truth this morning when he said his goat ate the book, then. “Is he here?”
“Mason’s inside,” he pointed to a screened in back door. “Just go on in. He was camped out on the couch a few minutes ago.”
“Okay, thanks.”
“Have a good night, Mr. Sinclair!” Micah called over his shoulder, already headed back to the barn.
Mason had goats. I didn’t know why I found that notion so odd, but I did. He had land out here, several acres from the look of it, and a pasture, a barn and other outbuildings Icouldn’t readily identify what they were for. I wondered what other animals he had.
Micah had said just go on in, but that seemed rude and intrusive. Instead, I briskly knocked on the back door, only opening it after I heard Mason’s deep voice yell something.
“Micah, I told you to just come in!” There was rustling, followed by a few choice curse words, and some heavy breathing. “Just come in so I don’t have to get up!”
I had no idea where I thought Mason lived, but this farmhouse wasn’t at all what I had imagined.
To the right of me was a nook that appeared to be a mud room. Coats of various lengths and styles hung on a row of hooks, as well as Mason’s cowboy hat. There was also a new looking washer and dryer tucked in a corner.
Stepping past the laundry/mud/catch all nook, I found myself standing in a large white kitchen, looking around curiously. A large, round, slightly scarred table took up the middle of the room, a few pieces of mail scattered across it. Two library books sat on the center of the table, neatly stacked.
A few dirty glasses were in the sink, but other than that it was clean and tidy. It wasn’t a new kitchen–or house–by any stretch of the imagination. The cabinets looked like they might be original, but somehow, I couldn’t imagine ripping them out for something more modern. Some sanding, a coat of new stain or paint, updated hardware, and they would be like new.
Moving to the arched entry that separated the kitchen from the living room, I found myself staring at the back of Mason’s coppery head.
He was sitting on a deep brown couch, one leg propped up on the wood coffee table in front of him, a black medical bootcovering his foot and ankle. The television was playing in front of him, but the sound had been muted.
“The kids doing okay, Micah?” Mason asked, turning his head to look at me over his shoulder. The moment he recognized me standing in his house, his amber eyes grew wide, and he sat up a bit straighter.
Warmth rushed through my body at the sight of him, leaving me feeling overheated in my leather jacket.
“It’s not Micah,” I told him quietly, though he could see that for himself.
Mason licked his lips, and my eyes locked onto the movement of his tongue. “Ronen, I didn’t…this is a surprise.”
“Is it okay that I'm here?”
Why I was suddenly feeling unsure of myself, I had no idea. Maybe because this man was my fated mate? Maybe because as much as he infuriated me, he turned me on and I didn’t like that fact one little bit.
Mason stared at me for what felt like a long time, before he slowly nodded. “Yes, yeah, of course it is.”
“I came to find out if you were okay, or what the damage was. I want you to know the library will cover all your medical expenses.” Well, not the library per se, but he didn’t need to know that. “No cast? That’s good.”
I moved closer to the couch, and Mason, so that he was looking up at me, but didn’t need to turn as much to see me.
He ran a hand through his messy hair. “Ah, my ankle is broken, but it will be healed by the end of the week, so a cast would just be a hindrance. Bruises and scrapes, but nothing major.”
My eyes narrowed at his explanation, and for the four hundred and fifteenth time, I wondered just what kind of shifter hewas. No shifter species I had ever heard of healed that quickly. Shifters healed faster than a fully human would, but we still took more time than what Mason said he needed. When I got to the library tomorrow, I was going to do some research. Maybe pick my brother’s extra-large brain.
“What kind of shifter are you?” The words popped out of my mouth on their own accord. I really hadn’t meant to just bluntly ask him like that, but eh, I didn’t regret it.
