Page 5 of Ronen
All. The. Time.
At least one per week.
It was a problem.
I couldn’t abide that kind of behavior, no matter how sexy the man was. It was absolute lunacy and there was no good reason for it.
The man was the sheriff for fuck’s sake. He was reasonably intelligent, I had to assume. By the position he held solving crimes–not that Sweet Alps was a hotbed of criminal activity–and by the speed with which he devoured the written word,he had to possess a smattering of brain cells. He didn’t seem at all absent minded. Far from it, in fact.
But the books.
It was an issue I would never be able to look past.
No matter how well he looked in his too tight jeans, or that damn denim jacket he always wore with the super soft looking white collar. Sherpa or wool or something. I deduced that jacket had to be lined with something to keep him warm, fleece or flannel. Regardless, he looked like a rancher when he wore it, and that alone had all my nerve endings zinging.
Add the long, long legs with those thick thighs, the shaggy auburn hair and those weird colored eyes of his…yeah, he was hot, okay? Smoking fucking hot, but nope…my too tired brain was not going down that road.
Someone called Mason’s name from down on the sidewalk, and he jogged back down the steps to greet them. The clip clop his shoes made on the way back to the door had my ears perking up.
“Ohhhh, he’s wearing those boots, Ro!”Emily slapped my arm, then because that apparently wasn’t enough to get my attention, she added some wild clapping.“The ones you like!”
Fuck me.
Without even having to see just what boots she was referring to, I knew Mason was wearing his well-worn cowboy boots this morning, and not his usual hiking boots.
Whhhyyy even?
Who needed honest to Goddess authentic cowboy boots in Sweet Alps anyway? Okay, we were pretty far north in the state, and there were farmers and ranchers outside the city limits. But really, those boots couldn’t be practical for police work.
If he ever shows up in a full-length duster coat, we are climbing him like a tree, my badger informed me.
I chose to ignore him, even though I knew he was one hundred percent correct. Some people had suit porn; I had duster coat porn. And cowboy boot porn. And cowboy hat porn.
Who was I kidding? I had a cowboy kink, there I said it.
Don’t judge me, I liked what I liked. And I liked cowboys.
Seriously, if the man ever showed up in a long duster coat, I would probably forget all about his extremely bad habit of losing my books and beg him to take me against the checkout counter. Or on it. Both? He looked like he could go at least two rounds before he would be spent.
“Ohhh, you’re having naughty thoughts about our good sheriff again, aren’t you?”Emily cackled.“Was it the boots that did it? I bet it was the boots. You do love your cowboys.”
White hot heat flooded my face, even as I staunchly denied her accusation.
“I most certainly am not! And I do not have athingfor cowboys. Don’t you have someone else to bother?”
Mmmm, cowboys, gimme!My badger sing-songed.
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I was determined to ignore them both. I just needed to get through this day, go home and hopefully get some sleep.
Chapter Three
Ronen
At one minute until nine, I slowly made my way to the front door, then waited with my hand on the lock. Mason’s lips quirked into a thin smile showing no teeth, his amber eyes narrowed as we stared at each other through the glass. Because I was shorter than him, I had to look up. My alpha dad, Jamie, was six foot five, while my omega dad, Bash, was about five foot seven. At five foot ten, I was considered tall for an omega. Mason was at least the same height as my alpha dad, possibly even an inch taller.
When the hands on my watch were perfectly aligned at nine a.m., I flipped the lock while simultaneously flipping the closed sign to open.
Turning on the heel of my sensible loafers, I headed back to my sanctuary behind my counter. Tugging the cuffs of my crisp button down at my wrist, I made sure none of my ink was showing.
